Making love to Veralie’s mouth was one thing, but doing so with their combined arousal on his tongue was an entirely different experience.

She moaned, wrapping her legs around him, silently begging him to finish what he’d started. He readily obliged, thrusting the same fingers back in and rocking his hips into them until he was fucking her with his hand.

She’d already been so close, it didn’t take long before she broke, clenching around his fingers and crying out into his mouth. He felt like an animal as he pulled out and circled her clit once more.

Teeth bared and voice more growl than syllables, he said, “Give me one more, little star. I need it.”

The look she gave him said it for her. Her entire body shook, the muscles in her thighs spasming around him. “Then I suggest you crawl back down there.”

His blood heated. “Good girl.”

Chapter 7

TREY

Disorientation was the first thing he felt. Then the discomfort crept in, which only furthered his confusion. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt something as mild as discomfort. Mind-cleaving, throat-ravaging torment was what he’d grown accustomed to.

His fingers twitched, further proof he was, indeed, awake. Gods be damned, why was he still alive? Did the gods have no mercy? Was it some elaborate joke to tease him with death day in and day out until he lost his mind and went mad from it all?

If it was, it was working. He had the urge to laugh, confirming he was at least halfway to insanity, if not a solid three quarters of the way there.

He groaned, attempting to sit up but failing, his spine stiff and his core muscles adamantly refusing to curl. It didn’t surprise him. If he had a coin for every time his body had refused to obey him in the eternity he’d been there, he’d be richer than the motherfucking demon himself.

Starting smaller, he tried to raise a hand to pick off the crust that had accumulated around his eye, but even it refused to listen. The limb only made it a few inches above him before it flopped down onto his stomach with a dull thwap.

This was different than his usual exhaustion and pain-addled comas. His body was laid out on something soft, his head swimming rather than pounding, and although his mouth was still dry, it was free of the lingering taste of bile.

It felt like he’d been drugged.

The broken part of his mind was thankful, wanting nothing more than to sink back under and never wake. But the other part latched onto the question of why?

Why would Eithan drug him? He wanted Trey to feel every single thing he did to him. Putting him out of his misery, however temporary, didn’t make sense. And Eithan did nothing without specific, planned-out purpose.

Daring to open his eye, he had to blink like a damn insect fighting high winds before he was able to clear his vision. He furrowed his brow as he took in his surroundings. Empty cots, organized counters, and a harsh chemical smell he hadn’t noticed at first.