Chapter 54 All Fucking Night
Nyxara:
One week later
The Shadow Court had stripped me bare.
My house, my vault, my last glittering coin—gone.
All that remained was this threadbare patrol uniform, rough and ugly, clinging to my curves like a jealous ex who refused to let go. It itched against my scales, chafed my sensitive skin, and did nothing to hide how my body still remembered what luxury felt like. My horns felt dull, my tail hung heavy and listless from days of power-suppression wards, and every muscle screamed from patrol punishment.
I was homeless.
Broke.
And so fucking tired of being good.
Then I saw them.
Two ridiculous, gorgeous males waving at me like hormonal teenagers trying to flag down the last taxi on earth. Eryx with his wild, over-the-top arm flailing, all cocky grin and storm-wind scent. Azrael beside him, taller, broader, shadows licking at his shoulders like living tattoos—trying to look dignified while still waving just as frantically.
My heart gave a traitorous little thud.
I walked toward them slowly, hips swaying on instinct even when I felt like a kicked cat.
“Hey, guys…”
Eryx didn’t even let me finish.
He lunged, wrapped those strong forearms around my waist and dragged me flush against his hard chest. His lips found my cheek, lingered, then slid to the corner of my mouth—hot, possessive, promising things he had no right to promise yet.
“Hey, queen,” he murmured against my skin, voice low and filthy. “Fuck, I missed this body.”
Before I could melt or snap back, Azrael growled—deep, dangerous, the kind of sound that vibrates straight to your clit—and ripped me out of Eryx’s arms with surprising care for someone built like a goddamn siege weapon.
He crushed me against his massive frame, one hand splayed wide across my lower back, the other cradling the nape of my neck. His chin rested on top of my head like I belonged there.
“You’re too fucking thin, love,” he rumbled, voice cracking just a little. “Look what those motherfuckers did to you…”
His hands roamed—slow, thorough, checking for injuries, but also… mapping. Possessing. I felt the thick ridge of him twitch against my stomach through his pants and my breath hitched.
I tilted my head back, smirking up at the usually silent shadow demon who was suddenly calling me love like he’d been practicing it in the mirror.
“Since when does the North’s coldest bastard get so goddamn sentimental?” I purred, letting my tail curl lazily around his thick thigh, the tip brushing dangerously close to the bulge I could feel growing.
Azrael’s shadows flared darker across his cheekbones—he actually fucking blushed—and shot Eryx a look that could’ve started a war.
Eryx just grinned wider, arms crossed, biceps flexing. “She’s not wrong, big guy. You’re practically writing her love letters with those puppy eyes.”
The bickering started almost immediately.
They argued about Lira and Mr. Jenkins (both fine, both taken care of, both apologized to on my behalf—apparently Eryx had groveled beautifully). They argued about who got to hug me longer. They argued about who had suffered more this week without me.
Then the real war started.
Eryx, casual as if discussing the weather: “She’s staying with me. Obviously.”
Azrael’s voice dropped into something lethal, velvet wrapped around a blade. “Like fuck she is. She's a succubus. I’m incubus. We belong together, wolf-boy. You’re just a side dish with an extra knot.”
Eryx barked a laugh, eyes flashing molten gold. “Side dish? Motherfucker I’ll bend her over every surface in my house till she forgets your name, your face, and the fact that you even exist.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose so hard I nearly drew blood. “Guys—”
Azrael stepped closer, chest brushing my aching nipples through the hated uniform. “You really think you can satisfy her alone? She needs dark. She needs deep. You’re all sunshine, tail-wagging, knotting bullshit.”
Eryx’s canines lengthened. “I’ll knot her so fucking good she’ll be crying my name for days, shadow prick. She’ll be dripping for a week.”
“ENOUGH!” I snapped. The word cracked like a whip across both their faces.
They froze. Mid-snarl. Mid-threat. Mid-fantasy.
I looked between them—two beautiful, dangerous, violently horny males practically shaking with the need to claim me, fight over me, fuck me into the pavement right here in front of the enforcement district’s security cameras.
My cunt clenched so hard I nearly moaned.
Then Azrael, ever the dramatic bastard, reached into his pocket and pulled out an ancient silver coin etched with an old infernal script.
“Call it,” he said. “Winner houses her. For now.”
Eryx smirked. “Tails. Always tails.”
Azrael flicked it high.
First toss: tails. Eryx whooped like a teenager.
Second: heads. Azrael’s turn to smirk, smug and quiet.
Third: tails again.
Eryx threw both fists in the air. “FUCK YEAH! That’s right, motherfucker! Rules are rules!”
Azrael looked like someone had just curb-stomped his favorite hellhound. His voice dropped to something broken and raw.
“No. No. Nyxara, please—my love, stay with me… I’ll do anything.”
Eryx slung a possessive arm around my shoulders, grinning like sin itself. “Rules are rules, big guy. Better luck next century.”
Azrael snarled, shadows snapping like whips. “Fine. Then I stay too. You’re housing all three of us.”
Eryx’s grin vanished instantly. “What?! I’m not letting a jealous shadow man-whore sleep under my roof!”
“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU CALLING MAN-WHORE?!”
I turned on my heel, marched straight to Azrael’s sleek black muscle car, slid behind the wheel, started the engine and revved it until the whole street vibrated.
“Five seconds or I leave both your horny, posturing asses on the curb. Move.”
They scrambled inside like teenagers caught jerking off.
The drive to Eryx’s sprawling riverfront house was forty-three minutes of tense, filthy silence punctuated by muttered insults, low growls, and the occasional brush of a possessive hand against my thigh.
When we pulled up, I stepped out first. Their eyes followed me like starving wolves tracking fresh blood. The uniform clung to every damp curve from the humid night air.
I turned in the wide doorway, silhouetted against the warm lights inside.
“Boys.” My voice dropped into that dark, velvet register that makes knees buckle and cocks leak. “Go cook something edible. And Azrael—go get my bags from the old house. Now.”
They stared. Swallowed hard. Nodded.
I climbed the floating staircase to the master suite, peeled out of the hated uniform like shedding diseased skin, and soaked in the deepest, hottest tub until every trace of prison stink and suppression wards melted away. My scales gleamed again—deep indigo shot with molten silver. My tail curled lazily through the water in slow, sensual figure-eights.
When I stepped out, I didn’t bother with underwear.
I stole one of Eryx’s black cashmere polos—soft, stupidly expensive, still carrying his cedar-storm scent. It barely skimmed the bottom curve of my ass. Every step made the hem shift, teasing the slick, swollen lips between my thighs.
I padded downstairs barefoot, hair dripping, skin flushed, smelling like sex and victory.
Eryx was at the stove, sleeves rolled to his elbows, forearms flexing as he stirred a pan of something that actually smelled like heaven. He froze when he saw me. Eyes dropped to my bare legs, dragged slowly upward, caught on the way the shirt clung to hard nipples, then locked on the shadowed promise between my thighs.
His throat worked. Loudly.
Azrael chose that exact moment to stride in carrying two of my Louis Vuitton suitcases, shadows swirling restlessly around his shoulders like jealous lovers.
His gaze devoured the way the fabric molded to my breasts, the faint outline of my cunt visible when I shifted my weight.
“Which room is hers?” he asked, voice pure gravel.
Eryx didn’t look away from me. “Mine.”
Azrael laughed—dark, dangerous, promising violence. “If she’s sleeping in your bed, motherfucker, then so am I.”
They started snarling again, circling each other like predators over the last scrap of meat.
I sighed, walked between them, deliberately dragging my ass against Eryx’s hip and brushing my breasts across Azrael’s chest as I passed.
“Drop the bags upstairs, Az.” Soft order. Velvet threat. “Eryx—food. Now.”
They obeyed.
Instantly.
But the air between us crackled—thick, desperate, drenched in hunger.
They both wanted to bend me over the marble island.They both wanted to fuck me until my voice gave out.They both wanted to win.
And gods help me…
…I was going to let them fight for it.
All.
Fucking.
Night.