Chapter Forty - By His Wicked Tongue

(Apollo & Adelaide)

He felt her arousal before he saw it. Not just as a scent, not just as heat— but as a pulse, a throb of molten hunger through the bond that struck him like lightning to the spine. The momentum of it almost stole his footing, as if some unseen hand had shoved his spine from the inside.

Her body called to him. It was infuriating. It was intoxicating.

It was hers.

As he hovered over her, the air between them grew thick—humid with breath and sweat and a tension that stole the oxygen from the room. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, frantic breaths. Her skin glowed with a feverish flush. Her pupils were blown wide, swallowing the colour from her eyes.

Terror. Anger. Desire.

Gods, her desire was a living thing—something that clung to her skin like heat off a flame, something he could breathe in and swallow whole. Every inhale dragged more of it into his lungs until he couldn’t tell where her need ended and his began.

Apollo’s chest tightened with a sensation so violent he nearly snarled.

Jealousy.

The name she’d whispered—Liam—burned through his skull like a red-hot blade. The wound festered. It poisoned. It twisted. It sank into his bones and pulled every ancient instinct in him to the surface.

Destroy. Claim. Erase.

He fought for breath, the muscles in his arms trembling with the effort it took not to tear the bed apart with his bare hands. He had to know. He had to be sure. He had to feel the line between bond and woman—between magic and flesh. He needed to prove to himself that this ache in his gut wasn’t only the mark, wasn’t only fate or prophecy or old magic— but the girl beneath him, breathing like she was about to shatter.

“Tell me, Adelaide…” His voice scraped low, raw, dangerous. “…does the bond make you this wet?”

Her lips parted, her breath catching violently. “Apollo—stop—”

“Or…” He lowered himself, chest brushing hers. Her heat seeped into him instantly, shooting a shiver through his abdomen. “…is this all for me?”.

Her thighs clenched. Instinctive. Helpless.

That was answer enough.

His control frayed. He needed to know where the bond ended— and she began. Desire clawed up his spine. He dipped his face to her neck, inhaling deeply. Her skin smelled like sweat, fear, defiance… and arousal so potent it made his pulse thrum. The scent brushed at old memories he had buried beneath centuries of ash— nights of sacrifice and chosen consorts, of queens of fire who’d once burned in his halls.

Her arousal smeared against his pants, soaking into the fabric. His breath hitched. He growled softly, “You’re making a mess on me, Little Flame.”

She gasped—soft and humiliatingly needy. “Apollo—please—”

Her begging only fuelled the jealousy burning in his chest.

He flicked his fingers. A wave of heat rippled across the room. Fabric burned away. The sheets stirred with the sudden rush of air. And suddenly there was nothing between them, nothing but heat and breath and the pounding race of two hearts locked in something neither of them understood. The wards along the ceiling fluttered like disturbed wings, cinders drifting down in slow spirals as Hell itself seemed to lean closer, revelling in the combined nakedness, holding its breath for what comes next.

Her trembling softness pressed against the hard, heavy length of him.

Her eyes widened, horror and fascination crashing together.

“A-Apollo—!”

He didn’t push into her. Didn’t cross that line. Not yet.

Instead, he took her trembling hand. Guided it between them, pulling it low, to where their bodies were pressed together. He placed it dangerously close to where he burned for her, until her fingers brushed the thick, aching length of him.

And then he whispered: “Touch me.”

Her breath broke. It quivered out of her like a secret.

Her hand trembled. He lifted his hips.

She hesitated—one heartbeat—two— and then her fingers curled around the thick of him.

She squeezed gently, then tugged, just once.

Apollo’s vision shattered. A snarl ripped out of his chest, primal and broken.

His wings burst from his back in one violent, fluid motion—black, leathery, enormous, unfurling like shadows come alive. Horns pushed through his hair, curving elegantly. His teeth lengthened, sharpening into deadly fangs. His eyes slit into reptilian gold.

Only a partial shift— but enough to terrify the girl beneath him.

Adelaide gasped— a small scream burst from her soft pink lips. Her eyes were blown wide. Half fear, half arousal.

Her hand froze. “A-Apollo—” she breathed. “You’re— you’re changing—”

He forced his body still, breath dragging ragged and shallow. He cupped her cheek gently—contradiction incarnate. “You woke the beast,” he growled softly. “Congratulations.”

Her pulse hammered under his thumb.

Slowly, he lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. “You woke the beast,” he murmured. “Congratulations.”

Her eyes widened further, fear trembling through her limbs. The heat radiating off him was different in this half-beast form—wilder, edged with something that felt like volcanic ash and thunder, like storms that never knew the sky.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. His voice dropped to a sinful whisper. “Hush,” he soothed. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Her breath shook.

“But I am going to taste you.”

Her pulse lurched violently. “No—Apollo—wait—”

“You will be a good girl,” he growled, “and stay still for me.”

Her breath hitched, her body arching involuntarily.

“And if I don’t?” she whispered.

He smiled. Cold. Lethal. Thrilling.

“Then you will be punished.”

Her thighs clenched around his hips.

He felt it. Oh, he felt it.

Her desire spiked—sharp, uncontrollable—at the threat. The mark between them flared, a phantom bite along his own neck, as if her want had teeth.

A growl of satisfaction vibrated through his chest. “Yes… just like that.”

He dipped his head and kissed her collarbone—slow, savouring, almost tender. His fangs ghosted across her skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Adelaide trembled. Her voice came out barely audible. “Apollo…”

He kissed lower. Across her shoulder. Down her chest.

He sucked one of her pretty little nipples into his mouth and sucked hard. Enough to make her arch into him on a gasp.

He moved to the next nipple, dragging his extended fangs along her soft human flesh. He pulled it into his mouth and ground his hips at the same time. His long, hard dick moved between the grip of her fingers, making him growl with approval.

He continues kissing and sucking. Along the line of her ribs. Up her neck. Across her cheek. His mouth was everywhere, hungry, claiming, marking. He sucked gently at her skin— leaving dark marks that would bloom into bruises. He scraped his teeth along the soft flesh behind her ear. He nipped at her throat. He left a trail of heat and fire across every inch he could reach without crossing into explicit territory. Adelaide writhed beneath him, overwhelmed, confused, torn apart between want and horror and something deeper she didn’t dare acknowledge.

Her voice broke. “I can’t— I don’t— This feels—”

“Good,” Apollo finished for her. “It feels good.”

She clenched her jaw, tears burning behind her eyes. “I hate you,” she whispered.

“You want me,” he countered.

“No—”

“Look at your body,” he snarled softly, dragging his lips across her jaw.

His voice dropped to a dark rasp. “Look at the way you tremble. Look at you, naked under me. Your juicing coating my cock… and I’m not even inside you yet.”

Her chest heaved. She wanted to deny it. She wanted to scream. She wanted to shove him off. But her body— her traitorous, burning body— moved against him.

Apollo inhaled sharply. “You smell like desire,” he murmured. “You’re practically drowning in it.”

She made a sound— small, pained, desperate. “Let me go,” she whispered again. But it came out wrong. Weak. Wanting.

He brushed his lips across her pulse. “No.” Soft. Final. Devastating.

Her breath caught.

“No, you don’t want release from this,” he whispered darkly. “Not yet.”

He kissed down her stomach in slow, hot, open-mouthed, torturous kisses that made her muscles quiver and contract. Her thighs shook uncontrollably.

Her breath turned into soft little gasps she couldn’t swallow. “Apollo—please—”

He growled. A possessive hungry sound.

“I told you,” he said, voice low and commanding, “I’m going to taste you.”

Her entire body shuddered.

“I’m going to savour you.”

He kissed the inside of one shaking thigh—just above the knee.

She inhaled sharply. Her hands fisted in the sheets. “Apollo—don’t—” But her hips lifted toward him.

He smiled against her skin. Her arousal flooded the air, sweet and hot and intoxicating.

He muttered, half to himself, half to her: “Hell help me… I’ve wanted this since the forest.”

He pressed another kiss higher. Then another. And another. Never touching where she so desperately needed him too—but getting unbearably close. Adelaide’s breath broke entirely. Her heart hammered so loud she was certain he could feel it. Her mind shattered under the weight of fear and want and the horrible truth that she was letting him do this.

She squeezed her eyes shut—

And his voice came, dark and hungry: “Open your eyes.”

She did. His gaze burned. His wings stretched wide behind him. And he lowered his mouth— right where she was trembling— and then in one slow press, he dragged his tongue up through her folds.

Her world went white. A full body shiver shook through her and a throaty sigh slipped through her parted lips.

He did it again, and again, and again.

“Oh,” Adelaide breathed. Liam never did this. Never made her feel like this. So sinful and yet perfectly heavenly at the same time.

Apollo sucked her clit into his mouth. The sharp tip of his teeth inflicting just the right amount of pain.

His tongue swirled around the sensitive nub, causing Adelaide to jolt up and stare down at the Devil between her thighs.

“What was that?” she half-yelled, half-breathed.

Apollo smiled up at her, perfectly wicked and evil. Then his forked tongue slithered out from between his lips, and he flicked at her, showing her exactly what he was using to make her moan like that.

Forked. Tongue.

The Devil himself was devouring her with his forked tongue.