It didn’t stop.
For a while, I wasn’t sure that it ever would.
If Apex had made me count my orgasms, I wouldn’t have been able to. It wasn’t just one, then another, then another. It was like he’d struck a single chord within me, low and deep. It resonated through my entire body until my every cell was singing along in a holy chorus.
It was like I was an ocean, and Apex was a meteor crashing into my center. There was a wave, a tsunami, that only grew and grew and refused to break until finally, I felt Apex tense inside me as well. His cum rushed up from his balls which were pressed tight against my ass, and pumped into me as deep as his cock would go.
“Blood!” he roared against my neck as he came. He panted. He moaned. He growled, thrusting deeper and deeper still.
He wasn’t just coming inside me, I knew. He was coming right up against my cervix, pushing his cum straight from the tip of his cock into the entrance of my womb.
Just like I had asked him to.
Just like he’d promised.
In retrospect, it seemed a little pathetic. But when his body relaxed on top of mine and my orgasm finally subsided, I felt a different kind of heat well up in my chest. It pushed its way upward, until it was in my throat, my sinuses, my eyes. This heat burned like saltwater in my eyes, so hot that it took a second to realize I was crying.
Oh, fuck. I was, apparently, the kind of woman who cried after sex.
“Shh.” Apex held me tight and rolled us, so I was lying on top of him. His cock stayed inside me, still hard. I could feel his cum inside me too, white hot and slick. A promise. A solemn vow. “I have you. I am yours.”
“You’re mine,” I repeated. As the tears came, I didn’t hold back. I let them fall. I could hardly believe that those words were coming out of my mouth. It was even harder to believe that they were true—but they were.
They really were.
“Rest now, my love. I will stay inside you all night. I will keep you safe.”
“Even in the morning?”
“Even come morning.”
“Do you think it will take?”
“Even if it does not, we have two weeks.” He kissed me gently. His lips, usually so warm, were pleasantly cool against mine. Compared to his mouth, it felt like mine were on fire. “We can try again. And again.”
“And again?”
He smiled against my cheek and stroked his fingers through my hair.
“And again.”
18
Apex
She moved through the room delicately, like her every step was on shaky ground. Little bells hanging at her wrists and ankles jingled as she reached for the pitcher of water the servants had brought in earlier.
“I wish it was wine,” Atlanta said with a sigh. She shook her long, bright pink braid off her shoulder and onto her back as she poured herself a glass. The braid was woven with more bells. It made her look festive, I supposed—but more importantly, it was Idria’s way of ensuring that Atlanta would be heard if she tried to run away tonight.
“No wine for you, my love.” I moved to her side and took the pitcher from her to pour a glass of water for myself as well. “And none for me.”
“That’s cute. Taking pity on a poor, defenseless, hopefully pregnant lady?”
“If you are not pregnant by now, it is not for lack of trying.” I smiled as I recalled the better moments of the last two weeks. Between all of the feasts in Idria and her new king’s honor, the fittings for traditional Lunarian formalwear, the purification rituals and wedding rehearsals, Atlanta and I had spent most of our free time in bed together. Though we had been working toward a common goal, it had certainly not felt like work. Not at all. “But while yes, I do not plan on drinking alcohol while you cannot…I think, regardless, it is best if we both keep our wits about us tonight.”
“This is it, isn’t it? The big culmination of all your plans?”
“It might be.” I sipped at the water, relishing its coolness as it trickled down my throat. To say I was not nervous would have been a lie, but thankfully as a specter, I was accustomed to working through my nerves. This situation was far from the most dangerous one I had been in.
The difference now was that it was not just my life on the line. It was Atlanta’s too—and, if we had succeeded, the life of our unborn cub as well.
“A daring escape at a wedding.” Atlanta laughed and smiled up at me. “And here I was thinking you didn’t have any taste for theatrics.”
“I do not.” It was true that tonight, as Idria married the Rutharian king, I intended to bring everything I had been planning since I arrived on Nightmoor to fruition. But it was not for the sake of theatrics. Where weddings were held, chaos inevitably always followed. A clever individual could take advantage of such chaos. Twist it to his favor. Make it his own. “If I were to make some move against Idria tonight—”
“You will,” Atlanta said with certainty. “If there was any other time, you would have done it already.”
“If I were to,” I repeated. “Then it would be because the moment you
