Beginning of Chapter 35

Rue

Acid.

He was pissing acid. But the man also smelt like the most glorious of teas, a heavenly roasted, mouth-watering aroma. The sort of decadent brew that deserved a ceremony — a grandiloquent worship with a master's well-flicked wrist and the elite's waiting tongue. No honey, no sugar, just leaves.

And Seraphim's scent had soaked through the tent, rising into the air and drenching the canvas with a fragrance that made her teeth ache and her heart jackrabbit. And she was boiling with his confession: all honesty, all truth, all carved-out heart on a damn silver platter.

It did not help that her scent was afloat, twisting with his, melting into his—saccharine, pheromonal cloud of need.

She knew his words were true because Rue had dealt with Seraphim's shit for weeks.

She knew that on a regular day, the idiot was an overblown, pompous fucking bastard. She knew that he sniffed and towered over all as if people weren't worth a single breath of air. She watched him conquer others like they were slaves—hands waved like royalty, a nasty cluck on his tongue, a rude sway of his eyes, a jolt of his chin towards the sky.

Seraphim had a shit personality (all seven of them did). And everyone by his side had allowed that personality to grow when they started kissing his fat ass for being the godliest of fortune tellers.

She supposed it wasn't entirely his fault. Seraphim knew too much. A word from him could change lives. A generous offering of lottery numbers could set someone up for life. A whisper about an enemy's weakness and one could narrowly escape their death. A finger on a map and people could find love. There was just a lot of cock stroking and dick sucking when one was privy to such power.

Seraphim was just a product of his environment.

But with Rue? He was as good as a baby deer standing on weakening legs. She knew he couldn't see shit when he looked directly into her life. Rue knew that she was the only blank spot in his life, like a big fat mountain that he had to climb to see the peak.

But he could see some of it, could circle her future, bypassing parts of the curse she had on his powers. She'd seen him do it with furrowed brows and a heavy stare towards the people who interacted with her. And she knew he was fucking obsessed with her, must have spent hours just to get a read on the food that she was craving that day.

Rue was even 90% sure that the poseidon had calculated the odds of a happy ending if he took that poisonous hit to his arm. The man must have probably seen in his future or even the future of the Alphas standing outside their tent listening in, that eating her cunt out would be his salvation. And so, he'd probably taken that blow with a fair amount of fucked up glee.

That thought had her growing cold, a chill up her spine.

Fuck.

That shit about the semen? She'd heard it once from Theo, and had ignored that thought like it was hellfire. She hadn't bothered considering what it really meant. And maybe she did know, had known that there was some crazy shit going on between her and the Poseidon the moment he'd come begging. But she had her hopes that she was just a lucky girl with overpowered hands. After all, Seraphim did collapse into her arms like a weak-kneed victim, surely that must mean something.

But a true mate?

She'd heard the term loosely released from the lips of the seven, mixed up with soulmate, mate, and lover. She must have read it somewhere in an old biology book. She hadn't bothered to give a shit about what they said then – men could say anything to get a girl back into their lives. And true mates were just a fantastic genetic match for procreation. It wasn't that big of a deal. With a universe that massive, there should be tons of perfect matches for everyone. But to have him say it to her like that? As if she were his one and only?

Blasphemy.

God, Seraphim was either an amazing actor or Rue had lost her touch from telling the truth from a lie. And so, her words rolled off her tongue, all honeyed — viscous and fresh. "So, you're saying we're already married."

His tongue darted to lick drying lips, all nervous. His face grew pinched, gorgeous features swallowed by a rare flush of carnation pink. "Too much?"

"Too much?" Rue laughed, the bark of it awfully sharp in the air. "You didn't even put a damn ring on my finger."

"It wasn't on purpose," Seraphim answered, fixing her a long forlorn look as if he wanted so desperately for her to trust him. "You know that. You did that to me."

"Yeah," Rue shrugged, tension threading through her. "So, I guess since we're back on the topic, how badly were your boys burnt by your cum?"

Seraphim paused, eyes fluttering, long lashes, gorgeous face growing redder. He was always so fucking dazzling, skin glittering like stardust and moonshine. Hair curled around a godly symmetrical face. "They've never touched my cum."

"So what? You're blue-balled for life?" Rue snorted; she'd guessed. Altair had mentioned it when they'd first met, spitting mad and frothing at the mouth. But she hadn't thought to question the man himself on her position in his life. Truthfully? She just didn't want to become his royal hand-job servant or his royal cock sucker. Basically, whatever the fuck they did to people who didn't melt into dust. She reckoned the man couldn't even own a sex toy.

"I—Yes."

"So what? You've been limp dick throughout your Rut?"

"Just hard and leaking pre."

"Didn't answer the question. So, can they even touch your pre-cum?"

"Dante…Is the strongest of us. And he scalded his fingers the first time he tried," Seraphim answered softly, cheeks growing a violent crimson. "They build up a tolerance. Altair said my pre-cum doesn't taste just as fiery now, and the burn feels good when I fuck them."

"Tolerance. So like callouses, like spicy food? They get the shits if they suck you off?"

"They can't suck me off," Seraphim whispered. "It's almost too dangerous, at the very least just a lick?"

"You are one unlucky bastard," Rue laughed. "so, you're pure fire. Ghost pepper hot." She smiled when Seraphim's pompous confidence steadily dissipated with her words, turning him into a flushing, sweaty, dewy mess. "Aren't you happy that you've got me?"

Seraphim continued, playing with his fingers, twiddling his thumbs. "All royal Poseidons experience this, we've only got one true mate in the world."

"Is it usually your Alpha soulmate?"

Silence.

Rue raised a brow. "So, it is."

"True mates are different." Seraphim shook his head and drummed his fingers on his arms, feet tapping. "They rarely exist. Soulmates of Poseidons are commonly aliens that are just as strong, or stronger. I believed that since the six of my mates didn't vanish into dust, it meant that they were my true mates. I thought myself to be just too strong—"

"Until you met me." Her smirk grew. "Must be tough."

"And by law of planet 3, we're engaged to be wed," Seraphim replied, eyes darting to meet hers, an almost glower. "I should bring you home. My ancestors would have brought you home."

"Dragging their true mates kicking and screaming into their sex dungeons, how siren of you."

"If you don't believe me, you could always ask a poseidon or anyone who knows of poseidons. They'll confirm what I'm saying." And Rue knew that what he said was true, knew it from the moment Theo had reacted so violently to the scent of Poseidon on her hands he'd almost combusted. But to hear those words from Seraphim's lips? It had her fucking confused; it had her feeling fucking crazy. It had her—

"Is this you trying to make me suck your dick?" Rue snapped at him, hands in fist, staring hard. Always on guard, always protecting her heart. Seraphim blinked, pretty lips parted, eyes wide. He gaped at her.

"That was the truth."

Rue rolled her eyes. "You want me to suck your dick."