Chapter 49 worshiped and Fucked
Nyxara
The kids were gone—safely bundled into blankets and stretchers, carried away by the Northern wolves toward the waiting choppers. Their small cries had faded into the wind, replaced by the low thump of rotors and the sharp commands of medics. The warehouse behind us was a silent graveyard of blood, broken bodies, and spent casings. The fight was over. For now.
We three stood alone near the edge of the loading dock, snow swirling lazy around our boots. The floodlights had dimmed to half-power, casting long, jagged shadows that danced over us like they knew exactly what was coming next.
Azrael leaned against a rusted crate, shirt still torn open, fake blood crusted dark across his pale skin. The cold didn’t touch him—he looked too alive, too hungry. His black eyes tracked me like always: slow, deliberate, like he was already undressing me in his mind, peeling away layers until I was bare and begging. Old habits. Dangerous ones that made my pulse throb low in my core.
Eryx stood a few feet away, arms crossed, muscles coiled tight under his jacket like a predator about to snap. His gold eyes flicked between us—possessive, pissed, barely leashed. The air between the three of us crackled, thick with everything we hadn’t said since the mission started. Jealousy simmered there, raw and unspoken, making every glance feel like a challenge.
I felt it first in my chest: that heavy, aching pull. Adrenaline still burned in my veins, mixing with the leftover lust I’d drained from those guards earlier. It left me restless. Hot. Needy in a way that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with the two males staring at me like they wanted to tear me apart and put me back together. My skin prickled, nipples hardening under my shirt from the cold—or maybe from the way their gazes dragged over me, heavy as hands.
I took one step toward Azrael. Just one. Enough to close the gap halfway.
His lips curved—slow, wicked, fangs glinting in the dim light. “Careful, love. You come any closer and I might not let you leave. Might pin you right here and make you scream until the wolves come running back.”
The words sent a shiver straight between my legs. I didn’t answer with words. My hand slid up his bare chest instead, fingers tracing the dried blood, feeling the rapid thud of his heart underneath. His skin was fever-hot despite the snow, muscles twitching under my touch. He inhaled sharp when my nails grazed his nipple, digging in just enough to leave faint red lines.
Behind me, Eryx shifted—boots scraping gravel. A low sound rumbled in his throat. Not quite a growl. Yet. But I could feel his eyes on my back, burning holes through my jacket, imagining what he’d do if he got his hands on me first.
Azrael’s hand caught my wrist. Not hard at first. Then tighter, like a vise, pulling me flush against him so I could feel the hard length of his cock pressing into my stomach through his leathers. “You feel that?” he murmured, voice a velvet rasp against my ear. “That’s what you do to me. Every fucking time. And you’re dripping for it already, aren’t you? I can smell you—wet, aching, ready to be filled.”
My breath hitched. My tail curled up his thigh on instinct—slow, teasing, brushing higher until it grazed the bulge straining against his pants. He hissed, hips rocking forward just once, grinding into me with a deliberate thrust that made my knees weaken.
Eryx stepped in then. Close enough that his heat slammed against my back like a wall. His breath ghosted my neck, hot and ragged. “You two think I’m gonna stand here and watch this shit?” His voice was gravel dragged over broken glass, laced with fury and want. One big hand settled on my hip—fingers digging in bruisingly hard, possessive, yanking me back against the thick ridge of him. He was rock-solid, throbbing, and the way he rutted against my ass once—slow, insistent—made me whimper.
I arched just enough to feel him fully—hard, massive, straining like he was seconds from ripping through his pants. A small, involuntary sound slipped out of me, needy and desperate.
Azrael laughed—dark, pleased, but edged with something sharper. “Jealous, wolf? Or just impatient? She’s mine to tease first. Watch how she melts for me.”
Eryx’s other hand came up, wrapped around the front of my throat—not choking, just holding. Claiming. His thumb stroked the pulse point under my jaw, feeling it hammer wildly. “Both,” he growled low, voice vibrating through my bones. Then his mouth was on the side of my neck—hot, open, sucking hard enough to leave a deep, purple bruise. Teeth grazed, then bit down just shy of breaking skin. Pain and pleasure twisted together, making me gasp and grind back against him instinctively.
Azrael didn’t wait. He stepped forward, caging me tighter between them until there was no space, no escape. His hand slid under my jacket, palm flat and burning against my stomach. Higher. Cupping my breast through the fabric, squeezing roughly, thumb circling the nipple until it ached and peaked under his touch. He pinched—hard—drawing a sharp cry from my lips.
“Look at her,” Eryx rumbled against my skin, his free hand sliding around to grip my other breast, kneading possessively. “Already shaking. You feel how wet she is just from this? Bet she’s clenching around nothing, begging to be fucked.”
Azrael’s fingers dipped lower—teasing the waistband of my pants, slipping just under the edge to brush the damp lace beneath. Not going in. Yet. “I can smell her from here. Sweet. Desperate. Soaked through her panties like a good little slut.”
I moaned—soft, broken, my body trembling between their hard forms. My hands moved on their own: one tangling in Azrael’s hair, yanking him down roughly; the other reaching back to grip Eryx’s thigh, nails digging in deep enough to draw blood. “Touch me,” I demanded, voice hoarse. “Now.”
They both laughed—low, dangerous sounds that made my core clench.
“Not yet,” Azrael purred, his tail snaking around my thigh, spreading my legs wider. “We decide when you get it. Beg for it, love. Tell us how bad you need our cocks stretching you.”
Eryx’s claws extended just enough to prick through my shirt, scraping over my skin. “Yeah. Beg. Or we’ll keep you like this—edged, aching, until you’re crying for mercy.”
I twisted between them, friction building but not enough. Their bodies pinned me, hands roaming—teasing nipples, brushing my clit through fabric, grinding against me in slow, torturous rolls. Minutes stretched, sweat mixing with snow on my skin, my breaths coming in pants. They traded me back and forth like that—kisses turning brutal, bites leaving marks, hands everywhere but where I needed them most. Azrael’s mouth claimed mine first: deep, filthy, tongue fucking my mouth like a preview. Then Eryx wrenched my head back by my hair, taking my lips in a punishing kiss—teeth clashing, tasting like raw power and restrained rage.
Every touch was a promise. Every pulled-back hand a denial that made me whimper louder, hips bucking uselessly.
I broke first. Shattered under the tension.
“Please,” I gasped against Azrael’s mouth, voice wrecked. “Fuck me. Hard. Rough. Make it hurt so good.”
Azrael smiled against my lips—slow, cruel, fangs nipping. “That’s our girl.”
Eryx’s hand finally slid down the front of my pants—bold, shameless. Fingers found me drenched, slipping through slick folds, plunging two deep inside without warning. I cried out, walls clenching around him as he curled them viciously.
Azrael dropped to one knee in the snow—didn’t hesitate. He yanked my pants down roughly, fabric tearing at the seams, spread me with his thumbs like he owned me, and buried his face between my thighs.
The first stroke of his tongue was devastating—long, wicked, lapping slow like he was savoring every drop. Then faster. Deeper. Fucking me with it while his nose ground against my clit, fangs scraping sensitive skin.
Eryx held me up, one arm banded across my chest like iron, fingers twisting my nipple hard. His other hand joined Azrael’s mouth—three fingers now, stretching me wide, thrusting brutally while Azrael sucked my clit between his teeth.
I rode them shamelessly—hips rolling, chasing the edge, nails raking Azrael’s scalp. Their growls vibrated through me. Their hands bruised.
When I came, it was violent—screaming into the night, thighs clamping around Azrael’s head, slick gushing over their hands and his chin. My body shook, vision blurring.
They didn’t stop. Didn’t let me breathe.
Eryx lifted me like I weighed nothing, slamming my back against the crate for leverage, legs wrapping around his waist. Azrael pressed in behind, chest to my back, cock grinding against my ass.
Eryx kissed me then—deep, possessive, tasting my release on his own lips. “Mine,” he snarled, claws shredding the rest of my shirt.
Azrael’s hand guided Eryx’s cock to my entrance—thick, leaking, veined and throbbing. “Both of us,” he whispered, biting my earlobe hard. “You were made to be fucked like this—hard, raw, no mercy.”
Eryx thrust in with one brutal snap—stretching, filling, bottoming out until I felt him in my throat. I screamed, nails gouging his shoulders.
Azrael waited until Eryx was buried deep, pounding a few rough strokes that had me keening. Then he slicked himself with my wetness and pressed forward—careful at first, then shoving in with a growl, claiming my ass inch by merciless inch.
The fullness was overwhelming. Agonizing. Perfect. They moved—first opposite, dragging against each other through me, then in sync. Deep. Hard. Relentless. Eryx’s hips slapped against mine, bruising. Azrael’s hands gripped my throat from behind, controlling my breaths.
I was lost between them—filled, wrecked, worshipped in the roughest way. Their growls mixed with my cries as the world narrowed to just this: us, the snow, the heat, the savage claim.