Chapter 27

Chapter

Twenty-Seven

W hen I see him, the three worlds cease in their rotation and the eclipse holds no domain here compared to the tension shrouding this chamber.

99 slowly steps forward, breaching the threshold, a vision of measured control.

Dark char marks streak across his armor like he fought his way here from the birthlands, killing anyone in his path to get to me.

The energy in the room changes with each commanding step he takes, his movements deliberate and agonizingly precise. Even the flames from the candles sway in a careful dance, desperate to feed themselves on the thick air.

I did not notice Lord Hollis moving out of his chair to avoid 99's path until he stands at my backrest, using me as a shield.

"Kindly place that on the floor, Viathan," Lord Hollis says about the weapon in 99's hand.

99 ignores him, raising the massive gun and aiming it right above me instead.

My throat constricts, an invisible fist wrapping completely around my airway. I can feel my eyes watering as I gasp, choking and sputtering all at once like my airway could crack.

"I said put it down!" Lord Hollis's voice is muffled, like he is ducking down behind me.

I can see the internal battle written all over 99's body, but he ultimately obeys the order, swayed by another choking gasp spilling out of me. He gingerly places his weapons on the credenza, then raises his palms in surrender.

"Sit!" Lord Hollis demands

The moment 99 takes a seat in the chair across from me, the band around my throat loosens its hold.

99's hands squeeze unnaturally against the armrests, his whole body stiffening now under the same restraining influence. Only then does Lord Hollis come out from behind my chair, leisurely walking to the door, testing the hinges, and then shutting it with a dramatic lock.

99's visor is on me, piercing through me, trying to link our tether so desperately, that my head begins pounding.

"Are you alright?" he whispers, ignoring everything else.

I nod while fighting a sob that threatens to overtake me, finally able to move my neck freely. Hearing him sends a wave of emotions. The tenderness in his voice is almost overshadowed by the rage that vibrates with such intensity that it looks like he is on the verge of snapping his own arms off to launch toward Lord Hollis.

"We were not expecting you, 99th Commander. High Priestess Ferren and I were just finishing a meal. Are we to assume you and your Viathan soldiers are to blame for all this?" He sits at the head of the table.

"You have been hiding in your room for far too long, my lord. There was a coup. I stopped it." 99 does not take his eyes off me while he speaks.

Lord Hollis absorbs the almost hidden insult. "A coup?" I see his stubby eyelashes flick with rapid blinks. "How unusual, unlikely even."

"They were organized and prepared. Half of the Estate does not suddenly switch sides. It was a planned insurrection."

"And you just, what? Showed up in one of your floating goblets to stop it?" Lord Hollis laughs into his wine glass.

"I am authorized to be here by three worlds' law."

"From what we heard, it sounds like you made quite a mess of our Estate."

"We saw smoke," I speak up, and 99's inhale comes in so quick, I can hear it across the table, like my voice reset him. "In the direction of the temple," I continue.

"The fires were a distraction. The Estate temple is secure." He pauses, tilting his head forward like he does when he wants me to really listen. "As is the Temple of Divine Mothers."

Leema is safe. He knew I needed to hear that.

"Curse First Son's followers and their insistent need to destroy the stones. As if they do not live on the very world it would affect."

"It would affect every world," I snap.

Lord Hollis turns his attention to me, like he always does when I speak out against him. When his idiocy is too great to not say something.

"Oh, and the blessed priestess worked so hard to bring them together. You must be distraught," he says with so much sarcasm, it makes me sick.

His cowardice and small stints of bravery swing rapidly, his control hanging on by a single thread that can't hold us here forever.

99 is suspiciously calm.

He has not demanded to be let out of Lord Hollis's grasp or even attempted to use his strength to test the hold itself. The only part of him that is not utterly still is his left hand.

I watch as he moves his thumb back and forth, then his fist clenches, shifting slightly.

"Yes, well, if you do not mind waiting until my personal guard returns to be unbound. You may be authorized to stop a coup," Lord Hollis starts, looking around the room dramatically. "But I do not see a coup in here. I cannot imagine three worlds' law allows you to partake in more . . . personal matters in the line of duty. There was a question of your involvement with Ferren. The highest priestess will find your special visit very interesting, I'm sure. In many ways." Lord Hollis looks at me with a cunning smile, the suspicion written all over his face.

"That's enough," 99 warns him, urging him to stop the strange intimidation that has become Lord Hollis's favorite game with me.

"Is it?"

They stare at each other for too long, like the strange silence right before we heard the battle break out in the corridor.

My gut twists at the tension building in the room, bottlenecking upward with no endpoint in sight.

"I would ask you to join our meal, but I am afraid I cannot release you. I am a very rude host." Lord Hollis mockingly pouts.

"Or a very smart one," 99 says flatly.

Lord Hollis's jaw twitches at another pointed insult he is not brave enough to correct. He picks up the perfectly stacked platter of sugar bread and presents it to me, an easier target to relieve his frustrations. "But that does not mean the priestess and I must suffer."

"No, thank you," I say.

"Go on," he urges.

The small tug against my throat reminds me how easily he can squeeze it again. My arm closest to the platter loosens, my hand free to serve myself.

"My pet loves sweets, only eats sweets." He smiles and continues his game now with a more dangerous audience.

The static in the room feels charged by 99's anger, his armor almost vibrating, not pressing against Lord Hollis's gifts but fighting to stay perfectly still.

I lift my hand and press a bouncy roll between my fingers, the sugary grit no longer bringing me joy, only reminding me how sore my teeth and empty my stomach will feel no matter how many I eat.

99 can see the disgusted look on my face, his head tilted like he knows what is happening. Like this type of torture is well known and Lord Hollis is performing it to show him just how in control of me he has been.

"Every day, she eats them until she is full and bursting. I send the kitchen requests to make triple." Lord Hollis huffs to himself. "Go on, eat up."

I place it on my plate, needing a minute to breathe before eating, the bile in my stomach already threatening to come up. I bring the pastry to my lips and take a small bite, some of the sugar grains sticking to my teeth immediately.

As I place it down again, 99's helmet slants like he is following my hand.

His black visor stays fixed there for a long moment. At first, I can not figure out the sudden fascination until I realize he is examining the wounds on the top of my knuckles and wrist where Lord Hollis struck me.

His helmet rises to meet my eyes as if asking how they got there. And if he hasn't assumed their origin, my almost involuntary flicking glance to see if Lord Hollis noticed the sudden switch in the room reveals who is to blame.

With that confirmation, 99 slowly turns his head towards our dinner host.

My eyes fall to my hand still holding onto the piece of sugar bread. I cannot pinpoint the exact emotion that comes up as Lord Hollis begins speaking again, spinning something, more exhausting gibberish.

It's not shame, maybe embarrassment that I let him do this to me. That in some way he did break me, at least splintered me a little, affected me in some way, reminding me that I am still weak and vulnerable when the right environment is set.

My hand feels a little warm, like something has spilled on it.

When I refocus from my daze, there are deep red droplets all over the bitten piece of sugar bread, as if the raspberry tarts have contaminated it.

A few more droplets hit my hand, turning into more of an odd, misty spray, and I pull back.

An unnerving gargling draws my attention upward, the sound of someone choking.

Lord Hollis stares straight ahead, a long blade driven right above his collarbone. The blood comes out in a rhythmic spit, leaking from the wound, then pouring out down his front.

The blade is Viathan in shape, but 99 has not moved, only watches the slow struggle.

I notice a piece of his forearm cuff missing and realize from the moment he was restrained on the chair with me and his gun placed out of reach, he was working on moving his thumb enough to discharge whatever is in Lord Hollis's neck.

I am frozen in place, not able to move a single muscle as I watch him choke on his own blood, as if I was not forced to sit here. Even now, his grip on me is loosening, fading like my limbs are being set free one thread at a time.

His skin pales as he attempts to stand, his instinct to flee from 99 in his last moments.

99 breaks free of Lord Hollis's control and pushes him back down in his seat to continue to bleed onto his plate.

He finally slumps forward, face falling right into the discarded bones he feasted on. And with his passing, my lungs feel like they can finally take in a full breath, free of the tightness holding them prisoner.

Lord Hollis could neutralize the most gifted priestesses; he had the power to take First Mother's gifts from anyone with divinity.

But the 99th Commander is not divine.

It does not matter if Lord Hollis could take all the divine gifts in all the three worlds. He was no match for 99 and his brutal rage.

99 stands next to the chair where his kill lies slumped and lifeless, watching me, waiting for me to recover from the sudden shock.

An unstoppable wave crashes against me, screaming to get to him, to touch and feel him to know he is real, but I can't move fast enough, every ligament in my body is stiff from being locked down for so long.

My chest heaves, expanding so rapidly my sternum threatens to pop out of place to make room for the air I require.

I lift myself up out of my chair, ignoring the sore feeling in my muscles.

His name comes out in a sob, a quivering plea on my lips. I have not said it aloud in so long and hearing it is too much.

He rounds the table quicker than I can even take a step and crashes into me, pulling me into his strong arms, surrounding me in the warmth of his body.

"Tell me you are alright, Ferren." His voice sounds broken, overcome, and exhausted.

He trembles like his body is finally able to relax now that we are together. He found me and is quickly getting rid of the rest of his rage.

"Tell me, please." He shakes me a little, wiping the tears from my cheeks, his hands moving and touching every inch of me in a frantic search for more injuries.

"99—" I can only nod, not able to finish the sentence without risking another painful sob in my throat.

"It's alright." He hums.

"You are here. You are real." I squeeze him tightly.

"Tether to me, Priestess. I cannot be without you any longer." He runs his palm down the back of my hair.

I try to press into his mind, but my gift is still too weak, not fully returned yet. It burns behind my eyes that I cannot feel him this way immediately.

"I can't." I clutch onto his torso as he touches me, his hands still moving over my body like he isn't sure I am truly here. "It's not strong enough yet, still out of reach."

I gasp when he growls into my neck in frustration.

And suddenly I need him closer. I need to rid myself of all the rage I feel inside too.

There is no embrace in the three worlds that can satisfy the desperate tension building the more we touch and cling to each other.

I pull him closer by the brutal muscles of his neck, the cold metal of his visor brushing against my face.

I know he feels the same overwhelming desire when his still trembling arms pick me up, squeezing me by the hips and placing me on the table.

"You belong to me, Priestess," he says, low and sultry as he nestles into my neck.

I spread my legs and press my breasts against his armor, but it's not enough.

It won't be until my gifts crawl back to me, until they are whole again and I can tether to him and our minds and bodies can be connected in all ways.

"Need you," I say on a breathless gasp and begin pulling up the layers of my gown.

99 responds without question, hiking up the rest and forcing my legs open wider, pressing himself against me even as he frantically works the buckles of his pants to free his length.

I whimper as he guides the head up and down my folds like he normally does to slick himself and ease the entry.

I am not surprised that I am not wet; my body has not had enough time to transition from being in shock to wanting him inside me.

But I do want him, and the kiss of his hot pre-cum against my skin only makes me want him more.

I impatiently lick my hand and stroke him with a long, wet twist of my wrist. I can feel him tense and look up at me in surprise, not expecting it. It's lewd and nothing we have ever had to do before, but I cannot wait for my body to catch up, and with the way he is trembling against me, I know it is difficult for him to wait too.

We both need this.

I stroke him again, quickly spreading the moisture across his thick length. "Please, 99."

He pushes forward, pressing the scorching heat to my entrance, and then shuttles himself in all at once.

I gasp at the slight pinch, holding onto him until my muscles relax and remember the feel of him inside my channel.

He groans deeply at his first withdrawal. "Ferren, I've missed . . ." He drives in again. "You . . . missed you so much."

His forehead rests on mine like he fought his way from the birthlands for only this, for the feel of himself sheathed by my body.

But then he whispers, "Tether us," and starts a steady stroking rhythm, letting me know he needs more too.

His mind faintly reaches out, the desperation of it almost prickly behind my eyes. It's still too far, still out of reach, my gifts so completely drained for weeks they trickle back at a frustrating pace.

He pushes himself inside me to the hilt, but it's still not enough. I pull the skirts of my dress up farther, leaning to one side and then the other until my bare ass feels the cold wood table under it.

99 lifts me by the hips, his massive hands digging into the soft flesh, his gloved fingertips then curving into my ass on either side. I plant my palms behind me on the table, allowing him to raise me off it. My core clenches around him, then floods with slick finally.

He can feel the new sensation and plunges into me without any resistance, my body inviting his, remembering how good he feels.

A steady but relentless pounding shakes the table, toppling candles and food trays around us.

His wild thrusts roll into me while his forearms pull me closer to his pelvis, meeting in an impossibly deep sensation. Each of my gasps are met with a deep, guttural sound in his throat.

I get lost in the intoxicating view of his movements, the dozens of lit candle wicks reflected in his visor, his unwavering grip on my hips, and the sight of the brief flash of skin on his pelvis right before he thrusts vigorously into me again.

It's almost ritualistic, the energy in the room radiating from a single source where our bodies join. His helmet tilts down so he can watch periodically but always comes back up and affixes itself on me again, his eyes watching my expression when he plunges inside my core each time.

I can't hold myself up any longer, my arms weak and almost prickly from holding the position. As I adjust, my palm skims a warm liquid and know immediately what it is.

Shocked, I bring it forward, looking at the red blood on my hand, then to 99.

He does not stop, even slightly picks up speed, slapping into the soft layer on the inside of my thighs.

"Anyone who touches you," he growls. "That is . . . what happens . . . to anyone . . . who touches you."

It shouldn't have the effect that it does on me, but now my body responds to his declaration. His feral possessiveness reminding me I am safe because nothing else matters to him.

I lock my eyes on his visor and wipe the blood across the fabric gathered on my stomach, unintentionally marking myself with the aftermath of 99's rage.

The walls of my channel clench around his cock as warm, languid tension spreads across my abdomen.

I lower onto my elbows, glancing over my shoulder briefly to make sure the way is clear.

99 stutters his thrusting and leans forward, pausing with himself still deeply sheathed.

I wince as he reaches behind me and scatters dishes and cutlery to the ground without a word. Then, with a press so forceful I can feel it down to my core, he pushes over Lord Hollis's chair.

The body falls to the ground in a thump. It should make me want to stop, but he looks so powerful, so deadly, I clench around his cock, my eyes fluttering shut.

"Lie back."

I obey, spreading on the now empty table.

99 scoots us down, likely away from whatever mess is still left over. He hooks my legs around his waist, the grip of his armor against my sweaty skin ensuring I stay where he wants.

His large form comes down over me, a single hand bracing himself above my head, the other stroking across my cheek, down my jaw, brushing against my lips and moving down the valley of my chest and ripping the neckline of my dress.

He kneads my exposed breast, watching the other bounce from his ministrations, then switching to favor the other and back again.

"I want your lips, 99. I miss your tongue, the way you suck and bite at me." I say it aloud even though I know he won't remove his helmet in the Estate. The visual of what he has done before and will do again with his helmet removed is enough for us right now, even if he growls and pinches my nipple like he is considering it.

I brace myself by gripping the armor of his forearms as he rolls his hips into me, a new, deeper pleasure spreading across my skin, tightening and warming with each stroke.

I don't have to say I am close for him to know. He can feel the resistance of my restricting walls, hear my almost screaming moans.

He wants to speed up, ram into me, but he keeps a steady rolling thrust, making sure the root of his cock brushes against my clit each time he leans forward.

I move my hands from his arms to either side of his visor, knowing he is watching me for any tiny indication to alter his movements to bring me more pleasure.

The new position of my arms changes how deep he can go, the brace holding me in place becoming looser with his movements. So he locks down on my shoulders, his thumbs so close to my throat, pulling me down to meet him.

The rough fabric of his glove strokes up and down the column of my neck as I close my eyes and bear down, the building pressure almost suffocating me.

It rises and rises and just won't break.

I clench so hard on him that his groans sound different, like it's difficult to keep going, waiting for my release to come.

"Let go, Ferren. Let go, I have you now," he chants, encouraging me to sink into the abyss with him, to feel something other than relentless torture, mind games, and hypervigilance.

"I have you, let go. I am here," he says between the hedonistic sounds our bodies make together.

With a shallow gasp, the tension in my body finally snaps, a conjunction-like tremor, contained and all-consuming, crashing through us both at once.

99's powerful thrusting stutters slightly as he comes, filling me and groaning through the muffled metal of his mask.

I squeeze around him so tightly, milking every last drop as I gasp and cry out, holding onto him as wave after wave crashes through us.

I gladly lose myself to the hazy euphoria of 99 taking me, eliciting such emotion only to devour me whole.