Chapter 14 Slut’s Rules
– Nyxara
“Make me.”
The words barely left my lips before his control snapped.
Azrael’s hand tightened on my throat — perfect pressure, stars blooming behind my eyes — as he crushed his mouth to mine. Fangs clashed, tongues tangled, tasting smoke and fury and the desperate edge we both craved. His free hand ripped the sheet away, baring me completely, cool air kissing slick skin.
He broke the kiss only to flip me onto my stomach, one iron arm banding under my hips, lifting my ass high. His tail — thick, ridged, demonic — lashed once, then cracked across my cheeks like a whip of living fire.
The sting bloomed hot and sharp.
I moaned, pushing back for more, already drenched.
He gave it.
Again.
And again.
Each strike precise — not breaking skin, just lighting nerves on fire, turning pain into liquid heat that pooled between my thighs. Slick dripped down my legs, obscene and inviting, the wet sounds echoing as I ground against nothing.
“You want to be a brat?” he growled, voice gravel and sin. His tail coiled around my thigh, spreading me wider, the tip teasing my entrance without entering. “Then take what brats get.”
Another lash — harder — across the sensitive curve where ass met thigh.
I cried out, body arching, cunt clenching greedily.
He dropped over me, weight pinning me to the furs, cock — thick, ridged, burning hot — dragging through my soaked folds once, twice, coating himself in me.
Then he thrust.
One merciless stroke that buried every inch deep.
The stretch was blinding — ridges dragging over every nerve, filling me so full I forgot how to breathe. Slick squelched around him, easing the way, making the slide filthy and perfect.
He didn’t pause.
He fucked me like he hated me — like he loved me — hips snapping with demonic force, balls slapping wet against my clit with every drive. The room filled with it: the lewd, soaking sounds of my cunt taking him, my moans turning to broken sobs, his growls rumbling through my back.
His tail released my thigh only to lash again — this time across my breasts as he reached around, the sting making my nipples peak harder.
I came undone instantly — walls spasming in wet, violent pulses, gushing around his cock, soaking us both.
He snarled, pace faltering for a heartbeat as my release milked him.
“Did I say you could come?” he rasped, pulling out slow — agonizing — until only the flared head remained, letting my slick drip down his length.
I whined, pushing back desperately.
He lashed my ass once more — sharp, perfect — then slammed home.
Again.
And again.
Each thrust punched deeper, ridges lighting me up, knot swelling thick and insistent, catching at my rim on every withdrawal. Slick poured freely now — hot, messy, inviting — coating his balls, dripping to the sheets in obscene rivulets.
His hand returned to my throat from behind, pulling me up until my back bowed against his chest. Fangs scraped my shoulder.
“You’re so fucking wet for this,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “Dripping down my cock like you can’t get enough. Like you need me to ruin this pretty cunt.”
I laughed — breathless, filthy — and clenched around him.
“Need?” I gasped. “I take what I want, Az. Right now, I want you to stop talking and make me scream.”
His growl vibrated through me.
He spun me — knot not yet locked, slick making the slide easy — and pinned me face-up, thighs spread wide over his forearms. His tail coiled around my waist, holding me open as he drove back in.
The new angle was devastating.
Every thrust ground against my clit, ridges dragging inside, knot battering my entrance until it finally breached.
The stretch burned sweet.
I screamed — long, shattered — as it locked us, his cock pulsing hot inside me.
He came with a roar, hips jerking, flooding me in thick, endless ropes. The heat of it, the fullness, the wet pulse — it dragged another orgasm from me, harder, gushing around the knot until we were both soaked, sheets ruined beneath us.
He kept grinding — slow, deep circles — drawing it out until I was trembling, oversensitive, tears of pleasure streaking my temples.
Only then did he still, forehead dropping to mine, breath ragged.
His tail loosened its hold, stroking gently up my side now — almost tender.
“You’re going to kill me one day,” he muttered, voice raw.
I smiled, clenching around his knot just to watch him shudder.
“Only if you’re lucky.”
We stayed locked — wet, wrecked, perfect — his jealousy simmering into something warmer, mine into satisfaction.
Toxic.
Addictive.
Us.
Then he kissed me — slow, deep, the kind of kiss that tasted like surrender wrapped in fire. His lips moved against mine with a gentleness that didn’t match the bruises blooming on my skin, tongue tracing lazy patterns that made me melt despite myself.
When he pulled back, his golden eyes were soft, vulnerable in a way that twisted something in my chest.
“Please don’t do this,” he whispered, voice cracking just a fraction. “Don’t fuck around just to make me burn like this.”
Gods, he was adorable — this massive, rune-covered incubus turning into a jealous puppy with those pleading eyes. It was almost enough to make me laugh outright, but there was something raw there, something that hit too close to real.
I did laugh, though — soft, affectionate — and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug that surprised even me. My tail curled around his waist, holding him close.
“It’s our nature, Az,” I murmured against his throat, breathing him in. “We’re natural sluts. Don’t read meaning into any of it.”
He growled low, but his arms tightened around me, burying his face in my hair. Frustrated, possessive, but not pushing. For now.
“What did Cassian offer you?” he pressed after a beat, fingers tracing idle circles on my back. “The real price. The one that made you even consider it.”
I pulled back just enough to arch a brow, smile sharpening.
“You know my rules, love. I don’t mix pleasure and business.” I tapped his nose with one claw, playful but firm. “And right now, this is pleasure. So I’m not telling you a damn thing.”
His eyes narrowed, a flicker of that demonic rage returning, but before he could argue, I untangled myself and rolled off the bed — slick still dripping down my thighs, body humming with the afterglow.
I dressed slowly, deliberately — black silk slipping over skin like a second shadow, tail flicking as I fastened the straps. He watched from the bed, propped on one elbow, looking every bit the ruined god he was.
When I headed for the door, he hissed — low, possessive, like a cat denied its prey.
“Don’t make me chase you again, Nyx.”
I glanced over my shoulder, blowing him a kiss with a wicked grin.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
The corridors were quiet as I prowled toward the elder’s wing — obsidian walls gleaming under LED strips laced with hellfire glow, a perfect blend of modern edge and ancient curse. My body still thrummed from Azrael, but business called, and in this fortress, business was always laced with blood and ambition.
Elder Darius’s private chambers were tucked in the elite tower — warded with tech and spells that parted for me like eager lovers. The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a room straight out of a greedy wolf’s wet dream: plush leather couches piled with silk cushions, crystal decanters of infernal whiskey glowing on marble tables, and a massive window overlooking the snow-swept city skyline.
Darius lounged in the center like a king on his throne — silver beard trimmed sharp, tailored suit hugging a body gone soft from too many years of power without the fight. Around him, a harem of pretty things: half a dozen girls in sheer silks, feeding him grapes from silver platters, pouring wine into his glass, massaging his shoulders with oiled hands. One knelt at his feet, her head bobbing lazily in his lap while he ignored her, eyes fixed on a holographic display of dominion maps.
The air stank of lust, money, and overripe fruit.
“Nyxara,” he drawled, waving a hand without looking up. One of the girls scurried over with a glass of deep red wine, offering it to me with downcast eyes. “Join me. This vintage is older than half the pups in this fortress.”
I took the glass, swirling it once before sipping — rich, tart, with a hellfire kick that burned pleasantly down my throat. I didn’t sit. I prowled closer, tail swaying like a metronome of ruin.
“You summoned,” I said, voice velvet and bored. “What’s the play this time, Darius? Another rival’s dirty laundry? Or are we spying on your own council again?”
He laughed — a low, greasy rumble that shook his belly — and finally looked up, dismissing the girl at his feet with a flick of his fingers. She scurried away, wiping her mouth, while another took her place with a bowl of chilled fruits.
“Ah, always straight to business. I like that about you, succubus. No fluff.” He popped a grape into his mouth, chewing slowly, eyes gleaming with that familiar greed. “But this one’s delicate. Politics, you see. The kind that could shift the whole dominion if we play it right.”
I arched a brow, leaning against the marble bar. “I’m listening.”
He leaned back, letting one girl refill his glass while another massaged his temples. “The Devil Alpha’s new toy — that silver-haired slip of lunar nothing he dragged in from the auction block. The council’s buzzing. Half think he’s just knotting her for sport, the other half whisper she’s got him wrapped around her pretty little finger. But Luna? Ha!” He barked a laugh, spilling wine on his cuff. “That brute making some southern stray his queen? Not a chance. He’s too feral, too obsessed with his hunts and his hellfire rages. She’d break under the weight of it all.”
I sipped my wine, keeping my expression neutral, but something twisted in my gut — amusement, maybe, or that flicker of intrigue I felt whenever I thought of the little moon.
“So what do you want?” I asked, voice smooth. “Her head on a platter? Or just her secrets?”
Darius grinned, teeth yellowed from too many indulgences. “Keep an eye on her. Get close if you can — seduce her secrets, play the friend, whatever it takes. Find out if she’s manipulable. If she’s just a toy we can play off against him, or if she’s got real teeth. The Devil’s been consolidating power too fast; if we can use her to drive a wedge… well.” He chuckled again, raising his glass in a mock toast. “The council could use a little regime change. And you’d be richly rewarded for your… discretion.”
He snapped his fingers, and a girl brought over a sleek black tablet. With a few taps, he transferred the money — a fat sum that lit up my account instantly. Big money. The kind that bought silence and results.
I pocketed my own device after confirming the deposit, smile curving sharp.
“Done,” I said. “But remember, Darius — I don’t do refunds. And if she turns out to be more than a toy… well, that’s on you.”
He laughed again, waving me off as another girl straddled his lap, whispering filth in his ear.
“Go on, then. And bring wine next time — this vintage is shit compared to what the Devil hoards.”
I turned and left without another word, the door hissing shut behind me.
In the hallway, shadows clung like old lovers, but I wasn’t alone long.
Cassian Voss rounded the corner — bandages fresh, eyes burning with that same crimson rage from earlier.
Our gazes locked as we passed.
He smirked — slow, knowing, tongueless mouth twisting in silent promise: a challenge, a threat, a reminder that the game was far from over.
I held his stare for a heartbeat, violet eyes flaring bright.
Then I brushed past him, tail flicking once in lazy dismissal.