Rain hammered the Grey District like the gods themselves wanted to wash the filth away. It never worked. The gutters still ran black with piss, blood, and whatever the Memory Collectors left behind after their nightly sweeps. I stood in the mouth of the alley, fingers buried knuckle-deep in the fat merchant's temples, and ripped the secrets straight out of his skull.
His name was Grivax. Fat, greasy, smelled like cheap perfume and fear-sweat. He owed the wrong people money and thought paying me in memories would keep his throat intact. Idiot.
The first wave hit me like lightning—ledgers, bribes, the location of his hidden vault. Useful. Then the second wave slammed in deeper, darker. A hidden memory he'd tried to bury under layers of fake ones. Not his. Someone else's. A master assassin's entire lifetime of muscle memory: how to flick a wrist so a blade kisses the carotid before the victim even gasps, how to roll with a fall and come up stabbing, how to kill without making a sound.
My body jerked. Tendons burned. Joints popped and realigned. Suddenly I knew exactly how many steps it would take to cross the alley and snap a neck. My cock twitched at the same time—power always did that to me now. The graft was raw, unstable. Mental pollution already whispering at the edges of my mind, the assassin's cold, emotionless hunger bleeding into my thoughts.
Kill. Take. Own.
I tore the last thread free and let Grivax slump to the wet cobblestones, eyes rolled back, drooling. He'd live. Probably. I didn't give a fuck.
Then I saw it—the corrupted memory flickering at the very bottom like a dying ember. A silver-haired girl screaming my old name. Kaelen Voss. The face that haunted every nightmare since they hollowed my family. Someone I thought I'd killed years ago. Alive. Smiling. Wearing the High Council's colors.
My fists clenched so hard the knuckles cracked. That face was the first real clue in ten years.
Boots splashed behind me. Six of them. Memory Collectors—black cloaks, glowing blue runes on their gauntlets, staves crackling with extraction magic. The magical police of this rotting empire. They'd come for the merchant's mind… and now they'd found mine.
"Well, well," the leader drawled, rain dripping off his hood. "The Memory Thief himself. Thought you were dead, Voss. The bounty on your head just tripled."
I grinned, blood already singing in my veins. The new assassin reflexes itched to be used. "Wrong night to collect taxes, boys."
They charged.
I moved before I even decided to. The graft took over—body twisting, elbow snapping up into the first Collector's throat with perfect precision. Cartilage crunched. He dropped like a sack of meat. Second one swung his staff; I ducked inside the arc, drove stiffened fingers into his eye socket, and felt the wet pop as the assassin's memory guided my hand. Three seconds. Two men down. The rest hesitated.
That's when she stepped out of the shadows at the alley's end.
Silver armor dented and rain-streaked. Ash-blonde braid plastered to her neck. Ice-blue eyes I'd never forgotten. Liraya. The knight who was ordered to execute my family ten years ago… and let me live instead.
She had her sword half-drawn, lips parted in shock.
"You," she breathed. Voice hoarse, like she'd been screaming my name in her sleep for a decade. "You're supposed to be dead, Voss."
I wiped merchant blood off my fingers and let my gaze drag down her body—curves barely contained by that battered plate, tits straining against the breastplate with every ragged breath. The graft made everything sharper: the way her thighs flexed, the scent of her sweat cutting through the rain, the faint tremble in her sword hand. My cock was already rock-hard, pressing painfully against my leathers.
"And you're supposed to be my executioner," I growled, stepping closer. The Collectors were circling again, but I didn't give a fuck. All I could see was her. "Funny how things change, Liraya. You let me go once. Tonight I'm collecting on that debt."
One of the Collectors lunged at my back. I spun—new reflexes singing—and buried a stolen dagger in his kidney before he finished the swing. He screamed. I twisted the blade and yanked it free in a spray of hot blood.
Liraya's eyes widened. "You're… faster. Stronger. What did you—"
"Stole it," I snarled, closing the distance between us in two strides. I grabbed her wrist, slammed her back against the slick alley wall hard enough that her armor clanged. Her sword clattered to the stones. "Just like I'm about to steal you."
She shoved at my chest, but there was no real force behind it. Her breath hitched. Pupils blown wide. "Get your filthy hands off me, you gutter rat. I should have killed you when I had the chance."
"Yeah?" I pressed my thigh between hers, grinding my throbbing cock against the cold metal of her codpiece. Rain sluiced down between us. "Then why are your nipples hard enough to cut glass right now? Why are you not screaming for your precious Collectors?"
Her cheeks flushed crimson. She bared her teeth like she wanted to bite me. "Because I hate you. Because you're everything that's wrong with this empire."
I laughed low in my throat and ripped the buckle of her breastplate open with one brutal yank. The plate clattered aside. Underneath was only thin black undershirt, soaked through, clinging to heavy, perfect tits that rose and fell with every panting breath. I palmed one roughly, thumb dragging over the stiff peak, and she moaned—a broken, furious sound that went straight to my balls.
"Tell me to stop," I growled against her ear, biting the lobe hard enough to make her gasp. "Say it and I'll walk away. But we both know you won't."
Her hands fisted in my shirt instead of pushing me away. "Fuck you."
"That's the plan."
I tore the undershirt down the middle. Her massive breasts spilled free—pale, rain-slicked, nipples dark pink and begging. I latched onto one with my mouth, sucking hard while my free hand shoved between her thighs. The codpiece was already loose; I ripped the laces apart and found her cunt already soaked, lips puffy and dripping. Two fingers plunged inside her without warning. She was tight as a virgin despite the armor and the attitude.
"Gods—ahh!" Her head cracked back against the bricks. Hips bucked involuntarily onto my hand. "You bastard… I'll kill you for this…"
I added a third finger, curling them against that spongy spot inside her while my thumb ground circles on her swollen clit. "You're dripping down my wrist, knight. Your pussy doesn't lie even if your mouth does."
The last two Collectors finally got brave. One raised his staff to extract me mid-fuck. Bad idea. I spun Liraya around so her tits pressed to the wall, yanked her hips back, and freed my cock in one motion. Thick, veined, already leaking precum. I slammed into her in a single brutal thrust—balls-deep, stretching her wide.
She screamed. Not pain. Not really. Pure overwhelmed pleasure.
I fucked her like I hated her. Hard, punishing strokes that slapped wetly against her ass. Rain poured over us. My hand wrapped around her braid like reins, yanking her head back so I could bite her neck while I railed her. Every thrust drove the new assassin reflexes deeper into my bones—stabilizing them, burning the pollution away with raw sexual energy. The graft clicked into place with every wet slap of my hips.
"Mine," I snarled against her ear. "This cunt is mine now. Say it."
"Never—fuck—ahh, harder, you prick!"
I obliged. Reached around and pinched her clit while I pounded her. Her walls fluttered, clamped down like a vice. She came with a broken sob, squirting around my cock, thighs shaking so hard I had to hold her up.
I didn't stop. Just kept rutting into her through her orgasm, chasing my own. The mental pollution was gone—replaced by pure, burning power. I could feel every grafted muscle, every stolen instinct locking into my soul.
When I finally came it was like a dam breaking. I buried myself to the hilt and flooded her—thick, hot ropes of cum pumping deep into her spasming cunt. Marked her. Bound her. The first true soul-graft of my new life.
She slumped against the wall, panting, cum already leaking down her thighs mixed with rain. I pulled out slowly, watching it drip, then spun her back around and kissed her—filthy, possessive, tongue fucking her mouth the same way I'd just fucked her pussy.
When I pulled back her ice-blue eyes were glassy, dazed, and for the first time in ten years… soft.
"Kaelen…" she whispered, voice wrecked. "What the fuck did you just do to me?"
I smirked, tucking my spent cock away while the last Collector bled out quietly behind us. "Gave you a choice you never had before. You're coming with me, Liraya. My knight. My first queen. And next time I fuck you, it'll be in a bed… after you help me burn the High Council to the ground."
She looked down at the cum sliding down her leg, then back up at me. A slow, dangerous smile curved her lips.
"…Yes, my Sovereign."
The rain kept falling. But for the first time since they hollowed me, I wasn't cold.
I had power in my veins.
A clue in my head.
And a dripping, claimed knight at my
side.
The empire was going to bleed for what they took from me.
And I was just getting started.