Chapter 270: Tossed Coin 🌶️
The sheer absurdity of his comment hit my chest. I let out a surprised laugh. The crushing tension cracked. The fear vanished, replaced by the chaotic fire of my court.
Orson offered a wicked grin. He stood up. He crossed the room and pulled me against his hot skin.
"You forget who we are," Orson murmured against my lips. "We ruled the nightmares of this continent. A few dusty clerics do not scare me."
He crashed his mouth against mine.
The kiss was a chaotic, fiery assault. He bit my lower lip. He tasted of smoke and raw desire. He backed me up until my knees hit the edge of the mattress. He pushed me down onto the tangled red silk sheets.
He stripped my velvet robe away. He unfastened his trousers.
He settled his heavy weight over my body. He grabbed my wrists and pinned them to the mattress above my head. His gray eyes burned with a dark, primal heat.
"I am your monster," Orson declared. "Tamed by the Queen."
He drove his hips forward.
He buried his length deep inside me in one relentless strike. A sharp scream tore from my throat.
He set a frantic, wild pace. He pulled back and thrust forward, hitting the exact same spot with terrifying precision. He moved with a wild, desperate need. He wanted to consume the fear. He wanted to burn the anxiety from my blood.
I arched my back, taking him deeper. I wrapped my legs around his narrow waist.
The demon spark in my chest flared. The magic answered his chaotic energy. The red coals in the hearth erupted into towering violet flames. The heat in the room spiked.
He trailed his mouth down my neck. He bit the soft skin over my collarbone. He sucked a hard, bruising mark into my flesh, branding me.
"You belong to the fire," Orson rasped.
"Yours," I gasped. I dug my heels into the mattress.
He accelerated the speed. The heavy impacts shook the massive wooden bed frame. He drove me toward the edge with a raw, undeniable hunger.
"Take it!" he shouted.
The climax ripped through my core.
I threw my head back. A ragged cry left my lips. My inner muscles clamped down tight. The violet fire in the hearth flashed bright, matching the blinding wave of pleasure crashing through my brain.
Orson hit his peak. He let out a deafening roar. He arched his back. He drove forward with a final, crushing surge. He released his hot seed deep inside my body.
His chest heaved. He collapsed against me, burying his face in my dark hair. His mortal heart hammered a frantic beat against my ribs.
We rested in the tangled silk. The violet flames in the hearth died down, returning to a normal, glowing red.
Orson lifted his head. He brushed a damp strand of hair from my cheek.
"Let the priests bring their cage," the Master of Coin whispered. "We will melt the iron."
A deep, resonant bell tolled in the courtyard. The sound shook the stone floor.
The dawn arrived.
I stood up. I walked to the heavy oak wardrobe. I pulled open the doors.
My coronation gown waited inside. It was a masterpiece of dark velvet and spun silver thread. The bodice was armored with overlapping plates of dark steel. A long cape of black silk dragged behind the hem.
I dressed in silence. Orson pulled on a fresh tunic of fine dark silk.
I walked to the mahogany side table. I picked up the Black Crown. I placed the jagged iron ring on my dark hair. The four sparks roared to life in my veins. The golden stamina, the holy light, the dark shadow, and the chaotic fire fused into a single, terrifying force.
I left the bedroom. Orson walked at my side.
We reached the main corridor. Vasilis, Ignatius, and Isidore waited for us. They wore their finest dark tunics and leathers. They stood tall. They looked like a Vanguard ready for war.
"It is time," I stated.
We marched down the grand staircase. We crossed the lower keep. We reached the heavy timber doors of the great hall.
Two werewolf guards pulled the massive doors open.
The hall was packed. Thousands of nobles, warlords, and soldiers lined the walls. They stood in dead silence. They formed a wide aisle leading to the white marble dais.
I walked down the aisle. My four mortal kings flanked me.
Six High Priests stood at the base of the dais. They wore heavy gray robes. Their faces were hidden beneath deep cowls.
Behind the priests sat the cage.
It was ten feet tall, forged from rusted, blood-red iron. The bars hummed with a sick, erratic crimson light. The thick black tarp lay discarded on the marble floor.
I stopped ten feet from the clerics. My kings stopped beside me.
I looked inside the cage.
A twisted creature paced the iron floor. It possessed four massive arms and a face made of jagged, exposed bone. Thick black fluid dripped from its jaws. The stench of rotting meat and old graves rolled out of the iron box. It was a nightmare pulled from the deepest, darkest trench of Aetherion.
The Lead Priest stepped forward. He pointed a withered, trembling finger at my four consorts.
"The old law demands a trial of blood," the old man hissed. His voice carried a vile, scraping edge. "Survive the beast, mortals. Or the Queen rules alone."