Waking in silk sheets wasn't something I was used to.
Neither was having a naked noblewoman wrapped around my leg, her thigh
trembling against mine from whatever filthy dream she was reliving after last
night. Lady Veira slept like a cat — sprawled, marked with nail scratches, lips
parted and body bare under blood-red velvet. Her perfume still clung to my
chest. Her teeth had left bruises along my neck.
I didn't wake her. She'd begged enough.
I slid out of bed, bare and quiet, stepping onto the cold obsidian floor.
The tower chamber windows stretched into the sky, stained glass shadows
painting the stone with bleeding colors.
The city below — Ravennar's eastern tier — was waking to its morning
screams.
And I had work to do.
said a voice.
It wasn't Veira.
The chamber door opened, and three masked women entered — servants, or
guards, or both. Their faces were hidden behind jeweled veils, their skin
painted in ritual lines. They didn't bow.
One stepped forward.
"You're to be bathed," she said. "The Lady wants you fed, dressed, and
presented."
"Presented?" I asked, stretching slowly, unashamed of being fully naked in
front of them. "To whom? The gods I pissed off?"
"No," she said. "To the Court of Flesh."
The bath was steam and honey oil. Two of the women washed me in silence,
their hands lingering too long between my thighs, not in fear — in hunger.
I didn't stop them. But I didn't give them more.
Sex wasn't just pleasure here. It was leverage.
And every eye on me meant a hand I could later bend.
When I stepped into the House of Vile Pleasures, even I paused.
It was a palace inside a palace. Red columns wrapped in silk. Golden statues
of writhing bodies. Ceiling murals of gods fucking mortals. And a throne made
of stone and bone and moaning faces.
The nobles here were masked. Draped in color-coded cloaks.
Veira sat at the front, in a throne not quite on the dais, but close. She
wore black and violet, her lips bloodred, her legs crossed and freshly bruised.
To her right stood a man in crimson armor with chains looped around his
wrists. He wore no mask. His jawline was perfect. His hair dark gold.
His smile? Sharp.
"
" Veira said. "Meet my newest acquisition."
Vaelen looked at me like one might regard a rare dog.
"You're the one who broke Zann?"
"Broke him, then made your Lady scream," I said casually. "You're welcome."
Murmurs rippled through the chamber.
Veira laughed, delighted.
Vaelen didn't.
He stepped forward. "You think you're clever, pitspawn?"
"No," I said. "I
I'm clever. I'm also fuckable, fast, and
still sore from giving your mistress three orgasms last night."
The slap never landed.
I caught his wrist mid-air.
Hard. Tight.
I stepped in, leaned close, and whispered loud enough for the court to hear:
"If you want me, Vaelen... get on your knees like everyone else."
Chaos erupted.
Laughter. Gasps. A few muffled groans.
Veira's eyes lit up with joy. Vaelen's burned with hate.
He yanked his arm free and stormed off the dais, blood boiling.
And I?
I sat in Veira's lap.
She didn't stop me.
, I was introduced to the
— a room hidden beneath the court.
Veira led me there herself.
"You've drawn blood," she said. "Now you'll draw "
The chamber was circular. A red pool in the center. Chains on every pillar.
Mirrors above.
At its heart:
Chained at the ankles. Dressed in white so sheer it may as well have been
none at all. Eyes golden. Mouth covered with a black silk gag. Hands bound
behind her back.
"She's been silent for a month," Veira said. "She speaks only in the
language of surrender."
"And me?" I asked.
Veira stepped behind me, whispering in my ear.
"You teach her the language of "
What followed was not love.
It wasn't even lust.
It was power.
I knelt before Seraya. Touched her chin. Watched her tremble.
She didn't cry. She didn't beg.
And as I pressed her down and made her something awakened in her eyes — not horror.
Relief.
When it was over, she collapsed in my arms, murmuring against my chest.
"Chosen... Vessel..."
I froze.
"What did you say?"
Her golden eyes met mine.
"You carry it. The voice. The one buried beneath the stone."
Later that night, the voice returned.
"Who are you?" I asked aloud, pacing Veira's balcony under moonlight.
I looked down at the city — so full of towers, of masks, of men who thought
themselves wolves.
They had no idea the wolf had risen.