> "Every curse has a mother. Mine just wears it like a crown."
---
The air tasted different the moment the raven left.
Dominic felt it first.
A chill down his spine. A heaviness behind his eyes. Something primal—older than gods, more seductive than sin—tightened its grip on the world.
Lyra stood still, scroll in hand, jaw clenched. Her body didn't move, but her magic rippled, coiled tight like a serpent ready to strike.
"Is it a trap?" Dominic asked.
"No," she whispered. "Worse. It's an invitation."
---
The portal arrived before sunset.
A ring of ash opened near the tower gate. No spells. No ritual. Just presence.
Raw.
Royal.
Maternal.
Lyra's voice was quiet. "She doesn't knock."
Dominic reached for his sword. "She doesn't need to."
Lyra turned to him, her lips curving in that same haunted smirk he'd fallen in love with. "You're about to meet the woman who taught me to bite."
He raised a brow. "Will she bite me too?"
Lyra chuckled darkly. "Only if she likes you."
---
The Queen of Curses didn't walk through the portal.
She glided.
Long legs, bare up to her thighs. A black gown clung to her like shadows wet with sin. Her skin was ivory marble, veined with runes that shimmered like molten gold. Her eyes—ancient, wicked, and amused—landed directly on Dominic.
"You must be the man who thinks he's worthy of my daughter."
Her voice was velvet dipped in venom.
Dominic bowed slightly. "And you must be the mother who turned a kiss into a weapon."
Lyra made a sound between a laugh and a warning. "Careful. She collects tongues."
The Queen smiled. "Only the arrogant ones."
---
They sat in the hall built of bones.
No servants.
No guards.
Just power.
And tension.
The Queen of Curses leaned back in her throne of thorns, sipping bloodwine from a chalice shaped like a screaming skull.
Lyra stood behind Dominic like a storm shadow, her hand resting on his shoulder—not possessively, but protectively.
The Queen's gaze never wavered. "My daughter is a sovereign flame. Dangerous. Cursed. Born of me and unshaped by every god who tried."
Dominic met her stare. "She's not a flame."
"Oh?"
"She's the match. I'm just the forest that burns for her."
---
Silence.
Then the Queen smiled slowly. "You have teeth. Good."
Lyra moved closer. "Say what you came to say, Mother."
The Queen set down her chalice. "You've defied the Obsidian Tribunal. Killed three judges. Woken the Old Roots. And now you've carved a throne of war out of lust and shadow."
Dominic grinned. "Flattering."
Her gaze cut to him like a blade. "It wasn't a compliment."
Lyra crossed her arms. "Why are you really here?"
The Queen stood, tall and terrifying, yet achingly beautiful. "Because when you unleash this war, the gods won't just kill you."
She stepped closer to Lyra, brushing her daughter's cheek with a thumb painted in divine ash.
"They'll erase you."
---
Dominic rose, stepping between them. "Then let them try."
The Queen's eyes darkened. "Such devotion."
She circled him slowly. "Tell me, mortal-turned-immortal-turned-toy—do you know what she is?"
"I know enough."
"She was born during an eclipse. Conceived in the heart of a god's execution. Fed on divine screams. Her first word was no. Her first act was rebellion. I didn't raise her. I survived her."
Dominic smiled. "Then I guess I'm doing pretty well."
---
She stopped in front of him.
Close.
Too close.
She touched his chest, right over Lyra's rune.
"She branded you."
He didn't flinch. "Gladly."
The Queen leaned in. "Do you even know what the brand means?"
Dominic didn't speak.
Lyra did.
"It binds his fate to mine. His orgasm to my power. His death to my vengeance."
The Queen raised a brow. "You're tethered, boy. Every time you fuck her, she gets stronger. Every time you love her, she grows closer to the divine destruction I once chained up beneath this world."
Dominic didn't blink. "Then I'll make sure she never stops growing."
---
The Queen laughed.
Genuinely.
Lustfully.
She walked back to her throne, clapping once.
"You're either the key to her undoing—or the weapon that ends us all."
She waved her hand.
A collar appeared in the air.
Made of silver.
Inlaid with obsidian.
Pulsing with living runes.
"The Collar of Sovereign Submission," she said. "Wear it, Dominic. If you truly wish to prove you're not just her plaything… become her subject."
---
The room went still.
Lyra's eyes widened. "Mother—"
"Silence," the Queen whispered, never looking at her.
Dominic stared at the collar.
Then at Lyra.
She looked almost… afraid.
Not of her mother.
Of losing him.
He stepped forward.
Took the collar.
Turned it in his hands.
"What happens if I wear it?"
The Queen smiled. "You'll become hers. Mind, body, cock, soul. You will feel what she feels. Obey when she commands. Burn when she moans. And if she ever doubts you—ever—your heart will shatter."
---
Lyra stepped in front of him. "Dominic, don't. She's testing you."
He looked into her eyes.
Then fell to one knee.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
"I was never meant to be above you, Lyra."
He lifted the collar.
"I was always meant to belong to you."
And he locked it around his own throat.
---
Power exploded.
The tower shook.
Runes blazed from Dominic's chest to his thighs.
He cried out—not in pain—but in release.
His eyes glowed.
His veins pulsed.
Lyra stumbled back, gasping as the bond sealed deeper than magic.
She felt it.
His heartbeat syncing to hers.
His desire wrapping around her spine.
His loyalty—raw, unbreakable—crashing into her like a tide of shadowed pleasure.
---
The Queen clapped softly. "Well then. He's yours."
Lyra stared at him.
Fell to her knees.
And kissed him.
Deep.
Dominic whimpered into her mouth, his body shuddering from the collar's magic.
She pulled back. "Can you feel me?"
"Yes," he panted. "Every breath. Every thought. Every need."
She licked her lips. "Good. Because I'm going to make you beg for every inch of it."
---
They didn't wait.
Lyra slammed him to the floor, straddling him as her hands clawed down his chest, carving runes into his skin with her nails.
Dominic moaned—needy, helpless, hers.
The Queen of Curses watched from the throne, smiling with cruel pride as her daughter dominated the man who'd once tried to control empires.
Dominic gasped, "Command me."
Lyra's eyes blazed. "Come only when I say so."
He nodded, trembling, the collar tightening like a lover's promise.
And she rode him—slow, punishing, divine.
---
Hours passed.
Maybe years.
Time bent.
Pleasure rewrote the laws of power.
He sobbed beneath her.
She kissed away his tears.
When she finally let him come, he screamed her name like a vow, his back arching as light poured from his mouth.
Lyra leaned down.
Whispered, "Mine."
And the collar pulsed once, sealing fate.
---
When they collapsed together, panting, shaking, fused by sweat and magic, the Queen rose.
"You've chosen your leash well, daughter."
She walked to the window, gazing out at the eclipse still glowing above.
"But leash or not, war is coming. And your enemies are far worse than gods."
Lyra lifted her head. "What do you mean?"
The Queen smiled without warmth.
"You've awakened something beneath the roots."
Dominic stirred. "The Hollow Prince?"
"No," she said softly.
"Something even he feared."