Chapter 271: Blood, Body & Her Mouth (1)

He turned and began walking deeper into the underground without waiting for an answer, the fresh cuts on his body already clotting, his massive frame still radiating the same unbroken confidence as when he first stepped through the doorway.

Marisa appeared at Kane’s side a moment later, face tightly controlled, amber eyes flicking over the damage with rapid calculation.

She didn’t offer him a hand and stood close enough that her presence was a clear statement to any remaining watchers.

Kane spat another mouthful of blood onto the stone, adjusted his grip on Mjoldr, and forced his breathing into something closer to steady.

His gaze moved to her.

"Now it’s time."

Kane leaned heavily on Marisa as they left the central tunnel.

Every step sent a fresh spike of pain through his ribs and the deep bruise across his chest.

Blood still seeped from the cut on his scalp and the split at the corner of his mouth.

Mjoldr hung loose in his other hand, the head dragging occasional sparks against the stone.

Around them, the underground continued its low, distant sounds, but the warriors who had watched the fight now parted cleanly, eyes lowered or averted.

No one offered help or dared to comment.

The architecture around them remained surprisingly refined despite everything else the palace contained.

Smooth black stone, precise arches, clean lines of inlaid bone that would not have looked out of place in the higher elven courts.

The contrast was almost insulting.

Marisa guided him through a side passage and into a private chamber on one of the quieter upper-underground levels.

The room was large, sparsely furnished, and clearly meant for guests the emperor did not yet want dead.

A wide bed, a low table, a basin of clean water, and a single high window that let in nothing but darkness.

She lowered Kane onto the edge of the bed with careful strength.

He sat with a controlled exhale, one arm braced across his midsection.

Marisa closed the door, tied her long black hair up in a knot, and moved to a side cabinet.

She returned with a small cluster of glass vials and a stack of clean cloths.

Without asking permission, she began wiping the worst of the blood from his face and neck, movements efficient and impersonal.

"You held your ground," she said.

"Looks like the vision was half true after all."

Kane gave a short, pained laugh that immediately cost him.

"Half? Why not full?"

"You are yet to beat him."

Marisa uncorked one of the vials, soaked a cloth, and pressed it to the cut on his scalp.

The liquid stung sharply, then settled into a cool numbness.

"Did you lose voluntarily?"

"I didn’t. He was strong."

Kane watched her face while she worked.

"But I did hold back on how much I could hurt him."

Marisa’s hands paused for half a second.

Understanding flickered through her amber eyes.

There had been too many witnesses.

Ending the emperor in a side tunnel with half the underground watching would have turned every pack against them before the real conversation even began.

A clean measurement that left both of them bleeding was safer than a decisive victory in the wrong place.

She resumed cleaning the blood from his collarbone.

"Your wounds are healing slowly. The body is working, but not fast enough. You need to be functional by tomorrow evening."

Kane’s voice dropped.

"There’s a way to heal faster."

Marisa’s hands stilled completely.

She looked at him for a long moment, reading the meaning without difficulty.

The same method he had used with others when the system’s recovery needed a stronger push.

Shared release. Shared energy. She set the bloodied cloth aside, straightened, and glanced once toward the door.

"My brother is still below," she whispered.

"He will not come up for some time. The fight entertained him. He will want to think about it."

"Good enough then."

Kane’s mouth curved despite the pain.

"I will let you moan silently."

Marisa held his gaze a second longer, then moved with deliberate decision.

She stepped between his knees, reached down, and carefully pulled his trousers open.

His cock sprang free, already half-hard despite the injuries, the adrenaline and the proximity of her body doing the rest.

She wrapped her fingers around him and stroked once, slowly, from base to tip, thumb spreading the bead of wetness that had gathered there.

Kane’s breath left him in a controlled hiss.

Marisa sank to her knees on the stone floor.

She kept one hand wrapped around the base and leaned in, amber eyes still on his face, and took him into her mouth.

The wet heat of her closed around the head first, then slid deeper in a smooth, practiced motion until her lips met her fist.

She held there for a moment, breathing through her nose, then began to move.

Kane’s head tipped back.

One hand settled carefully in her tied-up hair, not forcing, just resting.

Marisa worked him with focused intensity, slow, deep strokes of her mouth, tongue pressing firmly along the underside, occasional sounds she kept deliberately quiet.

The wet noise of it filled the quiet chamber.

Every time she took him deeper, the residual pain in Kane’s body seemed to recede another fraction, the system’s recovery responding to the shared heat and the building release.

She pulled off just long enough to speak, voice already slightly rough.

"You taste like blood and fight."

"And you’re still quieter than Kessa."

Marisa’s eyes narrowed faintly, but she answered by taking him back into her mouth and sinking until her throat fluttered around him.

Kane’s fingers tightened in her hair.

She set a steadier rhythm, one hand stroking what her mouth could not constantly reach, the other braced on his thigh for balance.

Her full breasts shifted beneath the wrap with every movement.

The sight of the emperor’s sister on her knees, lips stretched around him, was almost as potent as the physical sensation.

Kane’s breathing grew heavier.

The deep ache in his ribs eased further as the healing response accelerated. Marisa noticed.

She redoubled her efforts, sucking harder, taking him deeper, the soft wet sounds growing more urgent while she still kept her voice locked down.

Her free hand slid lower, cupping and rolling his balls with careful pressure.

"Marisa—"