“And if it is you who is first lost, the goddess will take my breath and guide me to you,” she panted.

“Yes,” he grunted, bucking beneath her, meeting her strokes, holding her hair in his fingers so he could hold her lips close, and he stared into her eyes.

They moved as one, and when he felt it gathering in his sac, when he felt her breaths come faster, her pussy clutch his cock greedily, he stated ferociously, “You own my heart, Ellie.”

And moments before they both came, he watched in distracted surprise, but surprise nevertheless, as she gasped, “And you own mine, Cass.”

And her eyes became a starry-night sky.

Jellan

Cyrus, Town at the Northeast of the Argyll Forest, Forty-Five Miles from Silbury Henge

AIREN

It was done for him.

He would take no more.

This he thought as he lay on his back in the bed in that little, squalid inn, his knees commanded to be bent, up and spread (and as commanded by Daemon, obviously, they were thus) as Marian brutally fingered his arse in a way he knew she intended him not to enjoy it (not that he would, it coming from her) and Daemon tugged on Jellan’s cock while he was in the midst of fucking Jellan’s mouth.

Through this, Daemon alternately watched Marian’s ministrations, or by the sounds of it, kissed her.

It was revolting.

The lot of it.

Unfortunately, his body’s chemistry was such his workings at his cock could not be ignored.

Though he did not get to finish, not that he’d wish to do that anyway with their hands upon him.

Daemon pulled out of his mouth, yanked Marian up Jellan’s body, positioned her above Jellan’s head, and Jellan received the most enjoyment he’d had that evening when Daemon shoved his spectacular member up her unsuspecting arsehole, and he heard her cry of pain.

She swallowed that cry, the bitch. The whore. The liar. The cunt.

And then she moaned falsely, as if she was enjoying it.

He closed his eyes against the sight.

Yes, he was done.

Finished.

No more.

He would never win Daemon.

He suspected even Marian didn’t have her clutches in Daemon.

Thus, Jellan would get away. Escape. Find some way to get to Sky Bay. Then make his way straight to the Citadel.

They knew him. They trusted him. They would receive him.

And this civil war they’d learned of was most convenient for Jellan, for all the rulers were there.

At that moment.

In Airen.

And he’d have all their ears.

He’d tell them of the Beast. He’d share about Marian. He’d put the blame entirely on her shoulders that the creature most feared in Triton was on the surface. He’d advise on how they could fulfill the prophecy.

And they would be grateful.