They were on the bed. Her clothes came off fast. Too fast. Dex couldn't track the sequence of events, couldn't remember how they got from point A to point B.
She put her hands down his pants and started stroking him.
He groaned. It felt good. It should feel good.
So why did something in his chest feel hollow?
A knock on the door startled him. He pushed Agnes off for a second, still dazed.
"Come in."
Hale entered the room, and all color drained from his face.
Then came the disgust. Pure, undiluted disgust. The kind reserved for traitors and cowards.
"What the hell, Dex?"
"What?" Dex asked. He wasn't fully aware that Agnes was stroking his chest, tracing patterns into his skin like she was claiming territory.
"She tried to kill your mate. Twice. And was an absolute bitch to her in front of everyone," Hale snarled, not softening a single syllable. "If you weren't going to be faithful, you shouldn't have marked her."
Hale left, letting the door slam hard enough to rattle the frame.
"What was he talking about?" Dexmon asked, genuinely confused. The words bounced around his skull but refused to land. Mate. Faithful. Marked.
Agnes pulled down his pants all the way and took him in her mouth.
She groaned. Exaggerated. Theatrical. Loud enough that anyone passing in the corridor would hear.
Dex felt bad for her so he didn't say anything. That was until she'd been going for twenty minutes and he couldn't finish.
Twenty minutes. That was longer than most council meetings. And significantly less productive.
His body wasn't responding the way it should. The way it always had. Something was fighting this. Something deep inside him was screaming no, and he couldn't hear it clearly enough to understand why.
"Stop," he said finally, unbothered by the flatness in his own voice. He bent Agnes over and lifted her dress, ripping her undergarments away.
He entered her without saying a word. She winced.
He felt nothing.
They went on for another thirty minutes. Position after position. Angle after angle.
At this point it was less intimacy and more troubleshooting.
He pulled out completely and thrust into her in aggressive motions. Rapid. Punishing. Like he was trying to feel something. Anything.
Nothing.
She tried to ride him for ten minutes, but it didn't feel right. Wrong angle. Wrong rhythm. Wrong everything.
He bent her back over and continued, fucking her with a desperation that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with confusion.
Still nothing.
It was frustrating. His body had never betrayed him like this.
Dexmon Drakenfell, commander of the second largest army in the realm, could not perform with a naked woman on top of him. If Gavriel ever found out, he would never hear the end of it.
Maybe it was her.
Her scent wasn't as intoxicating anymore. The sweetness had curdled into something cloying. Sickly. Like fruit left too long in the sun.
"Dex?"
Dex turned.
The most beautiful creature he'd ever seen was standing in the doorway.
White hair. Green eyes. A face that made his chest ache in ways he couldn't explain.
Her hand flew to her mouth, trembling. A look of pure horror twisted her features. Her eyes, those stunning green eyes, filled with tears that spilled over before she could stop them.
She turned and ran.
Dex wanted to go after her. He felt the pull, sharp and visceral, like a hook in his chest yanking him toward the door. He turned to follow, legs already moving.
"Where are you going?" Agnes grabbed his hands and pulled him back down on top of her, wrapping her legs around him to keep him there.
Then he felt it.
Immense sadness. The worst feeling he'd ever felt. Like someone had reached into his chest and crushed his heart in their fist.
It didn't make sense. None of this made sense.
"Dex, do you want to go to sleep? You've had a hard day," Agnes cooed, stroking his hair.
"I have?" His voice was distant. Hollow.
"Don't worry. Sleep now." She rubbed circles on his back, and his eyelids grew heavy.
He drifted into a darkness that felt less like rest and more like drowning.
✦✦✦
Dex woke the next morning with Agnes's arms wrapped around him.
Suffocating.
Her skin against his felt wrong.
Everything was fuzzy. His thoughts moved through molasses.
"Hang on, baby," she whispered, getting up.
Her calling him "baby" gave him the ick. A visceral, crawling revulsion that started in his stomach and spread outward.
He wanted to kick her out of his room.
"Agnes, I have duties—" he began. That was always the best excuse. She needed to go. Now. And never return.
"Here, drink this," she interrupted, pressing a glass into his hands. Then she grinned, something sharp behind her eyes.
He hesitated.
"I promise it tastes good," she added with a warm smile.
Dexmon wanted to tell her to go kick rocks. But he didn't want to be a dick either. "Okay, but then I need to get to my duties."
"Of course," she replied.
She didn't move off the bed. Dexmon stared at her.
She stared back.
This was not a staring contest he was going to win. He was fairly certain she didn't blink.
Fuck.
He exhaled, taking a drink.
It tasted really good. Suspiciously good.
The fuzziness intensified. The wrongness faded.
"Now, where were we," she purred, climbing back on top of him. Her silk chemise looked familiar. It was too small. Wrong.
Like it didn't belong to her.
Like he'd seen it somewhere else. On someone else.
She pulled off her chemise, now completely naked.
She sat on top of him and started to ride. Slow at first. Then faster. Her moans filled the room, loud and performative.
It was almost funny.
Okay it was funny. It was ridiculous.
But it didn't feel good. Dexmon knew that for certain. This position wasn't going to work.
None of them had worked. He was running out of geometry.
The door opened.
Gavriel stepped in and froze.
His face cycled through shock, confusion, and then settled on something worse. Disappointment. The kind that cut deeper than anger ever could.
"What the hell, Gav?" Dex snapped, beyond annoyed. "Get the fuck out!"
"I had to see it for myself…" Gavriel said slowly, shaking his head. His voice was hollow. "Hale told me. I didn't believe him."
Then she stepped into the room.
She looked like the Moon Goddess. He didn't know her but he wanted to. He had the urge to go to her.
Beautiful hair cascading to her waist and startling green eyes. A face that looked familiar. A face he felt like he should know. A face that made his heart stutter and stop.
She looked at him. At Agnes. At the scene laid bare before her.
Her face crumpled. Not with anger. With devastation. A tear fell down her cheek silently. Pure, soul-deep devastation. Like he'd taken something precious and shattered it against the floor.
His heart cracked, and he didn't understand why.
"Serena, let's calm down before we do anything…" Gav said, reaching for her, trying to soothe.
She cut him off. Her eyes locked on Dexmon's. Green meeting gold. Something final passing between them.
"I, Serena Frostborne, reject you, Dexmon Drakenfell, as my mate."
Her voice cracked at the end. Shattered like glass.
She gasped in pain and hunched over, a cry tearing from her throat. Her knees buckled.
Gav caught her before she hit the ground, pulling her against his chest, shooting Dex a look of pure hatred.
At that same moment, a burn seared across Dexmon's arm. His Hidden Flame mark. On fire.
"What the…" Dex gasped, looking at it. The skin was red. Blistering.
Then a redheaded woman stormed into the room, eyes blazing with fury.
"What is wrong with everyone today?!" Dex shouted, still inside Agnes, still not understanding. "I am in the middle of something. What do you want, omega?"
The word landed like a slap.
The redhead's face went white, then red with rage.
Hale appeared in the doorway a moment later, positioning himself between Dex and the woman like a shield.
"If you ever speak to my mate that way again," Hale said, voice low and lethal, "I will punch you and you will break a rib."
He meant it.
Dex looked around the room. At Gav holding a moon goddess. At Hale, fury etched into every line of his face. At Agnes, still naked beside him, smiling.
And somewhere, buried deep beneath the fog and the poison and the magic holding him hostage, his soul screamed.