8. “When’s the last time you all had a family dinner?”

Chapter 8

"When's the last time you all had a family dinner?"

NYXION

"Distraction" by Sleep Token

I leave Morpheus standing alone in the clearing.

But we're not done yet. The residual energy of our battle still buzzes through us. More tension ready to find an outlet. One part of my power is depleting. Over the past few days, I've discovered the more I spend between a pair of pretty tattooed legs, the more I can spend in my god form and not my skeletal one.

My thoughts linger on Zenya, knowing this is only the beginning of a much larger conflict. Morpheus wants her, but he knows I'm not about to give up my vessel—not even if it leads to her doom.

Surging my power, coursing it through my blood, I call upon the ancient magic of all nightmares. My bones crack and reform, elongating and twisting into a grotesque beast made of skeletal remains. My wings break through the canopy, and I take bits and pieces of bone and hide, fusing it with the membrane.

Alerted to the change, Morpheus turns as I shake my head, eye gleaming upon him. With his eye gone, the core of his power, my little brother falls back on his shadows. He can't manifest. He can't create. But we are still gods. We can't be killed.

With a roar, I lunge at Morpheus, slicing my bone claws through the air. He dodges swiftly, but my sheer strength catches him off guard, knocking him to the ground.

Not one to be easily bested, Morpheus retaliates. Shadows erupt from his body, lashing out and wrapping around my bone form. He hates to fucking lose. We both do.

The shadows constrict and pull, dismantling my bone creature piece by piece until I form another and another, commanding the whole of my organic forest.

I don't know how long the battle goes on, but with every blow I strike, Morpheus refuses to leave. I may have spent my life in his damn shadow, but I'm a dog with a bone this time. He has no right to take what I have justifiably stolen.

Eventually, we end up flat on our backs, both huffing and puffing from the exertion. Too long without my cock inside Zenya.

"What do you think?" Phantasos chuckles, and I swing my eyes up to find my younger brother lounging high above the canopy clearing on a floating velvet brocade chaise. "Solid eight?"

More additions have been made to the gown, including an impressive cape with gold spikes all around the sides and back. I roll my eyes as she sucks the juice from a cherry before tossing the pit at me.

But it's Zenya who irks me most.

Chucking a femur bone at Morpheus, smirking at his ‘ow!', I charge into the air.

Zenya smiles as I advance toward them since she sits at the end of the chaise—with my goddamned brother's head in her lap. Relaxed, he's not performing—at least not as a Queen. Fuck, he's already got her eating out of the palm of his hand. Or perhaps both with how enthralled he is with her.

She doesn't so much as flinch, though the tattoos on the right side of her body pulse and shift more upon my approach. The skulls bounce, the fractured black wings flutter, and the spiders skitter along her arms—bare thanks to the sleeveless corset she wears, royal purple to match her hair bound in a thick braid. Her tulle skirts are a contrast between pink on the right side and black on her devil side. I'll say the lace choker woven with teeth is a nice touch.

I stare her down, daring her to toy with me. Without faltering, she glances down at my brother while sifting her fingers into Phantasos's hair, stroking the long, dark curls.

"I'd give Nyxion a ten for his ingenuity because the golems and rib cage rattlers were pretty amazing. But Morpheus also gets a ten…for style."

"Tsk, tsk, darling," Phantasos scolds her and twists his chin to kiss her palm. "We all know I have the most style."

I growl at my brother. "I'll change this to ‘execution-style' if you don't get the fuck out, Phantasos."

Zenya's fingers pause. Then, she stabs her chin at me. When Phantasos begins to make a show of crying, outright blubbering, I set my jaw and seethe through gritted teeth. Because Zenya's eating it up. She leans down, cooing to him with ‘shh' statements while kissing his brow.

Good gods, I'm going to be sick.

By now, Morpheus has arrived, hovering nearby, surrounded by his shadows. Our wings border on brushing one another. Other than that, he gives me a wide berth. But he rolls his eyes and shakes his head with an airy laugh at our familiar trickster brother.

"He's always so mean to me," Phantasos pouts.

"Honestly, Nyxion," Zenya scolds. "Glitz n Goddess was so nice to come to your little show. And you haven't even asked her if you can watch her do hers."

"Oh, excuse me, Glitz n. Goddess…" I drawl, baring my teeth. "Which iconic legend are we honoring today? Fairy Godmother or Lady Glitter Sparkles?"

Phantasos gasps and covers his mouth, tearing up for added effect. By fucking Zeus!

"Seems someone needs to work on his people skills." She soothes him again, wiping away his tears as he blubbers to her.

My plight is worse when Morpheus turns to Zenya, and she blushes, the right side of her body igniting for him—stars glimmer, hearts beat, and rainbows swell their arcs more.

"Least I'm not a drama queen," I mutter.

Phantasos snorts. "Says the walking bone daddy. And the shadow showman," he adds, gesturing to Morpheus.

"When's the last time you all had a family dinner?" wonders Zenya with a lift of her brows.

The three of us all turn to her with equal parts chagrin and awe. Of course, Phantasos is the first to pipe up. "Does it count if we spent the whole meal throwing food at one another?"

"You're the one who decided to turn the dining table into your personal stage," I spit out, flicking my eyes down to the damn chaise he sits upon like he's fucking Dionysus.

Touching his fingertips to his chest, Phantasos guffaws, "You're lucky I saw fit to grace you with my presence."

Morpheus snickers. "Was that the night Nyxion declared war over the last piece of pie?"

"I like pie."

Zenya dumbfounds us again with her too-innocent comment, an obvious neutral statement during our showdown. She may as well have said ‘Stop fighting, you're all pretty'.

As soon as she nudges Phantasos's head off her lap and rises from the chaise lounge, I register she's not going to think twice about standing—in the open air. Far too trusting.

But I flex my wings and command a throne of bones and teeth to form for her. She drops in a three-second free fall that ends when Morpheus's shadows catch her, followed by my throne. I glare daggers at him, and the bastard shrugs. A throne of bones and teeth has far more style than his goddamn shadows.

While rubbing her arms along the femur bone armrests and swinging her braid onto her chest, Zenya appraises us all. "I think it's time we all sit down and have a nice dinner together, don't you, Nyxion?"

Oh, my little killer is testing me. She knows this is my realm, and my brothers are merely trespassers. In submitting the proposal to me, she's acknowledging my ruling comes first but also asking me to play host. My cock throbs from her shy smirk and her heady eyes baiting me with her delicate lashes at half-mast.

An idea forms in my mind, and my wings nearly vibrate at the fantasy coming together. Especially when Morpheus will be watching the whole time.

With a knowing grin, I approach my mad, little dreamer, cup her chin, and slowly tilt her head toward me. "Very well, sweet Z. But this time, you will be joining our fun, little show."

"Is this really necessary?" she protests as I fix the fang clamps to her pretty nipples, already hard as pink stones for me.

Bone skull back in place, I smirk down at her and give each bud an approving tweak before showing her exactly what the fangs will do. As soon as they clamp down with a subtle vibration, Zenya hisses sharply through her teeth.

"They need a reminder of who commands your desire."

"Show off." She wrinkles her nose, her oceanic eyes deepening.

"Hardly," I snort. "They will understand who you belong to. I'm merely asserting my rightful claim."

"And I'm the pretty prize of a pawn."

Smiling wryly, I grip her hips with the sheer fabric of the night dress falling down the sides of her body. "If I merely saw you as a pawn, Zenya Alice Myre, I would not have given you a throne of bones." I fasten the clasp at her waist, a clasp of teeth holding the transparent dress in place while ensuring her ripe breasts are on display.

"Your competition doesn't require a spectacle," she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and blowing a dark purple strand of hair out of her face.

Sweeping a hand along the lacy thong, I twist my lips into a grin as she shrieks, then moans from the clamp of hand bones I've placed over her sex. Like a small chastity cage of phalanges curving over her folds. Lowering myself, I breathe in the dark opium aroma between her legs.

"Keep sniping, little killer, and I'll add a butt plug."

"You wouldn't da—oh, you fucker!" She reaches for my shoulders, throwing her head back from the sudden plug buried inside her.

"What a sight you are…dripping all over your cage," I chuckle, running my finger between the bones to capture her arousal like heated dew glistening on her folds. "The plug is formed of star bones—yes, they have skeletons in my realm. And anytime I desire, the plug will heat your pretty ass, but you will not come until I say. Is that understood?"

When she doesn't respond, I give her ass a swat. "Understood, understood!" she cries.

"Master," I correct her as we've had this conversation the past week.

"Master."

Good girl.

At some point, I will address how she has no reservations about any of this. How she seems to have no desire to return to the waking world. But that will come later.

"Are you ever going to take me out of the castle and show me other places? Not just the forest," she adds, tone hopeful as she circles her finger.

"You will go where I say. And you will always come when I say." I finalize with a growl and send a surge of heat into her ass while commanding the fangs to bite her nipples.

"Oh, god! In your dreams."

"You're in my nightmare, Zenya." I blow cold breath along her wet pubic lips. "Remember that."

Digging her fingers into my shoulders, she mumbles, "Guess I'll have to find my own adventure. And my way out of here."

"Try and run from me, little girl, I'll put a bone collar on you with a leash so tight, your very skin will grow into mine until we become one flesh ."

"You say the sweetest, morbid things, Master."

I'll be doing the sweetest, morbid things to her soon enough.