A Hunt So Wild and Cruel (Mythic Holidays, #1)

by Rebecca F. Kenney

“I won’t be able to touch you. But you’re welcome to ride my cock, or my face. I’m very good with my tongue.” He kisses me again, and this time, when his tongue enters my mouth, it divides in two, each section wriggling suggestively. My heartbeat skyrockets and my breath catches.

I restrain myself from going as far as I want to. She’s tiny, and I’d never forgive myself if I actually hurt her.

Awe soft spot for the brat

You have the power to cheer or discourage these people—to make their service to you easy or wretched, a delight or a dread. Your power isn’t only in commands and coin—it’s in your voice, in your expression. You can make a difference with the slightest change in tone or attitude, with a moment of thoughtfulness or an understanding smile. The influence you wield is more important than any pile of treasure.

Some say red is the color of love, but for me it is the blue of winter nights, and the silver of stars. It’s the lavender of Paemon’s eyes, and the snowy white of Brax’s hair, and the black braided tattoos on Helix’s skin.

Instead, I send up a caustic mental prayer to the god of balance. Is this what you think I deserve? Is this part of my lesson? Where were you when my cousin was raped and tortured for years? Where was your love of balance then? Or perhaps someone else was doing extreme good somewhere, and that balanced out Varthil’s extreme evil, so you didn’t interfere? A shitty way of doing things, if I’m honest. He doesn’t answer, of course, nor will I plead for his mercy.

“I don’t know if you’re listening, and I won’t stay here long,” I murmur. “But I’ve changed. I swear I have. Whatever reward you promised to my guides—you must deliver it. I will show you the change in my heart—I’ll prove it to you, even if it takes years, decades… even if I have to do it alone…” Tears come at last, stinging my eyes, and I swallow a sob. “Just… don’t hurt them. Please. Don’t subject them to that terrible end, please. Let me perish in any number of miserable, painful ways, but spare them, I beg you. I beg you. I won’t keep praying, because I know you despise excess—but please. I’ll do anything. Have mercy on the ones I love.”

“Grief does funny things to a person. Even if you’re not exactly sad someone is gone, you can be twisted up inside because the ending was so... unexpected. It’s like a door you can never quite close, and it can drive a person a little mad.” Dumfounded, I stare at her. “Well… fuck me. That was surprisingly wise.

Why did no one ever tell me how much fun it is to make people’s lives better?

Mara tugs at the paper cautiously. “Tear into it,” I tell her. “I know you want to. A woman who knows what she wants should always go after it with both hands.”

She doesn’t understand why the pleasure is so powerful when she and I are together. She doesn’t know we’re mates yet. I’ll tell her tomorrow. Tonight is about all four of us, nurturing our connection. For now, I’m content to be one of her worshippers.