Valkyrie's Sacrifice (Academy of Immortals 3)

I nod, the decision made, even though I feel tight anxiety in my chest. Luke swipes another drink off the bar before walking over and handing it to me. “You’re in Hell,” he says, “if you’re going to do it, do it right.”

I take the fruity drink and tip it back, feeling the fizzy juice on my tongue. At first the liquid is refreshing and cool, but as it goes down it settles in my belly, spreading warmth through my limbs and easing the tension in my neck.

Something about this place is off—it’s too shiny, too clean, too nice.

The sound of a loud click from behind me draws my attention and I turn, seeing the doors to the outside shut, a bolt siding into place.

Whatever this place is, we’re here for the night.

Once we agree to stay, we’re whisked off by an eager staff to luxurious rooms. Everything shines with bright cleanliness; the smooth white bedspread, the plush pillows and most of all, the massive outdoor shower with an open roof and a million stars above. The shower itself is so big Rupert, Armin, and I have no problem fitting in all at once.

“Mmmmmmmm,” I moan, closing my eyes. “Odin, that soap smells so good, feels good, too.”

Never in my life have I felt so dirty.

“Just the soap?” Rupert asks. His hands massage the suds across my back, dipping over the curve of my ass. His teeth drag against the flesh on my neck. He’s different since the Lust circle, more assertive. The fear and insecurity he carried at the Academy is gone, stripped away and resulting in a man that knows what he wants. Armin sits on the bench in front of me, water running down his magnificent physique. He lathers soap in his strong hands and begins diligently washing my breasts. His cock bobs eagerly, and I reach down, taking great care to lavish attention to his taut lower belly, then down to his cock, before fondling his balls. He hisses in delight, fingers curling against my sides.

Rupert’s fingers, slippery with soap, venture between the crease in my backside, toying with the tender flesh. I fall forward and Armin secures each hand to his strong shoulders, our mouths inches apart. With another handful of soap, Armin gently massages the bundle of nerves between my legs, while the tip of Rupert’s cock urgently probes against me.

This was something we hadn’t done, but I trust these men with my life—as they’d trusted me to save them. All three of us wear the rings, linking us together in the physical and metaphysical world. I’m ready for this. For the feel of both of these men at once.

I hold Armin’s eyes, steady and sure, as Rupert presses into me; painstakingly slow, inch by inch. My breath catches and Armin leans forward, sweeping his tongue into my mouth while Rupert strokes a hand down the length of my back. I want to cry, I want to beg, I want to plea for them to release me from this moment of too much, way too much, but at the same time I want more.

“More,” I whisper, breaking my Armin’s kiss. His fingers spread between my legs, one entering inside of me, then the other, his thumb rubbing circles against my clit. Rupert must hear my plea as well because he rocks his hips, entering me even deeper. I cry out when his hips are flush against my ass, his cock buried as far as it can go. The nerves between my legs quivering, just like my knees.

Rupert’s hands move to hold me up, one splayed over my stomach. That allows me to lay my hands back on Armin’s throbbing cock, stroking him with my hand. Rupert pulls out again before pushing back. Over and over he guides himself in, over and over Armin kisses away my cries of pleasure. I’ve never felt anything like this and gods, it’s like I can’t get enough. I want him to fuck me, I want Armin to stroke me, I want their hands and mouths and fingers all over, all in me.

I want to feel them both lose themselves to ecstasy.

With a building crescendo, my body has had enough. My orgasm rips through me, gripping me from all sides. The tension is what sends Rupert to his final push, a groan deep in his chest. He pulls out, painting my back with his cum, while Armin’s head falls back against the tile, a spray of sticky white landing on my wet chest, before the running water washes it down the drain.

I fall forward and Armin catches me, cradling me in his lap. My body aches, but still wants more. I look at the two of them and almost ask, “Can we do that again? Now? Soon?” The growl of my stomach brings me back to reality, reminding me that there’s more than one type of hunger that needs to be satiated.

Linen seems to be a theme.

It’s the fabric that makes up my dress as well as Elizabeth’s. The men

all wear cream linen pants and a loose shirt, buttoned up the front. Rupert’s hair is tied at the back of his neck, while Armin’s olive skin looks even darker against the crisp white.

Luke, well the beauty of the Nephilim is startling as he sits at the table with a drink in his hand.

I don’t know if it’s the outfit, the drink, or the literal Hell we’ve been through the last four days, but suddenly he’s not looking so young anymore.

His eyes skim over me as we arrive to the dining room and take our seat at the long outdoor table. Elaborate china and silver flatware sit before each seat. Candles flicker across the tabletop, making the crystal wine glasses glow. The only dinner I’ve ever been to this fancy was back at the Nead, but even this feels more extravagant.

Asmodeus, the same man that had welcomed us to the Palace earlier, returns and stands before an empty seat at the end of the table. His grin is wide, and his hair slicked back. He too is in the requisite white. “I hate to inform you that your host is unable to join you for dinner.”

“Host?” Armin asks, holding the chair out for me. I sit next to Luke and across from Elizabeth.

“The owner of the Palace. He usually likes to meet all guest personally and spend a little time with each of you, but some, ah, business came up and he’s currently occupied.”

“Maybe later,” Rupert says, eyeing him carefully. “We’d like to thank him for his hospitality.”

“Of course,” he says, bowing slightly. He snaps and a stream of servants descend, carrying massive plates of delicious-smelling meats, vegetables, and freshly baked bread. My stomach rumbles again. “Enjoy your meal.”

We eat like starved soldiers, which is exactly what we are. The rabbit stew and hard bread we’ve been subsisting on since we crossed through the temple has barely been enough to survive on. The moon shines overhead and the waiters replenish our glasses and Elizabeth’s dessert demands, swiftly.

We aren’t alone on the patio. Other people sit at smaller tables, or perch at the bar. There’s an air of intimacy—not unlike Rupert’s court. People kiss freely, which after my own public display in his court, I keep my eyes averted, not wanting to intrude on their moment. It’s not until Armin’s hand squeezes my thigh, and he whispers in my ear, “Notice anything strange about the other guests?” that I pause to take a look.