Chapter 70

In the end, I couldn't join them.

Hours later, in the dark, I still wasn't sure why.

I'd been there, at the glen, watching.

Gods, had I been watching.

Anaria, a beautiful, perfect goddess, laid out on a bed of moss like a carnal offering, her pale skin glowing in the shifting sunlight, her breasts perfect, her pussy…I threw my head back and breathed through my nose, reaching down to arrange myself in my trousers.

Watching them pleasure her, watching every kiss and vicious thrust feed Anaria's needy whimpers went straight to my cock, straight to my heart, cracking the worthless thing into pieces.

Maybe that was what held me back.

Getting my heart broken.

Or sharing her.

Then again, I'd jacked myself off three times already and still didn't feel settled enough to go back to the city and face them. The things they did, the way she'd taken Zor's cock in her pretty pink mouth, the way Raz had taken her from behind while she was riding Tavion…I blew out a shuddering breath.

After six hundred years, I was no blushing virgin, but I'd never even imagined sex could be so…complicated. So fucking erotic. I could still smell her sweet jasmine scent drenching every leaf and tree, saturating the flowers and the water and the rocks.

Anaria had forged this place from magic and willpower.

This forest was her temple.

And I wanted to worship at her feet.

I banged my head against the trunk behind me. Something kept me away today, something overrode the desire straining my body, turning me to a sweaty, hungry mess, my cock aching with want. I'd watched every second of their sweaty, grinding passion, from Anaria's first wonderous scan of the glade, to them re-dressing her tenderly, Raz lifting her in his arms, Tavion smoothing her hair away from her face, Zor kissing her until she smiled sleepily.

I wanted that to be me.

So much, I wanted that to be me, but loneliness was branded into my soul like a permanent stain.

Long ago, I'd lost everything—everyone—I'd ever loved. Because the world was cruel, and love was fragile. And fragile things did not thrive in the darkness.

So I fisted my cock in that very same darkness and began to stroke, Anaria's scent in my nose, desire burning in my blood, cursing the now-dead king who'd ruined me in every way.