Divinity Binds | CH. 4
Korin shows his beast-god form of claws, antlers, and a god-sized appetite—and yes, Ivan decides he wants every inch of it.
🚨 Mature Readers 18+ ONLY 🚨
Welcome back to Divinity Binds, my mythic, filthy, unapologetically gay romantasy.
Previously: | CH. 1 | CH. 2 | CH. 3 |
Ivan, a witch, and Korin, a god, are magically bound together with a living tether. Witch hunter fights, fantastic blowjobs, and magical bondage play ensue.
The bond drags them through a hidden gate where they discover an unground land of floating islands and demigods. The Elders want to see them, but not before one dangerously distracting night in bed.
Now, with Ivan trembling beneath him, Korin asks if Ivan can handle seeing his true form. The bond pulls a single truth from his lips:
Yes.
CHAPTER FOUR
He changes.
At first it’s just heat, a shimmer under his skin like light through warped glass. Then his body cracks larger. Shoulders tear wider, chest swelling into slabs of muscle too thick for mortal proportion. His pale skin whitens to something more brutal, almost translucent, veins glowing faint green. His face stretches, jaw sharpening, mouth broadening until his teeth bare longer, more feral, built to bite.
Antlers erupt next: jagged, unnatural, branching in cruel angles, glowing faint green. They don’t sweep elegant like a stag’s. They jut, twisted and wrong, like a living crown forced through his skull.
His legs stay human — until they don’t. The muscles pack denser, thighs bulging, calves cut with new ridges until they taper down into hooves black as obsidian. Massive, split and shining, digging furrows into the stone with each shift of weight.
The height of him was staggering, the bed suddenly too small. Silver hair spills down his back, his neck is thicker. I don’t think I could fit both my hands around it. Face more bull than prince, more beast than man, but still … alluring.
Other things had transformed too: his cock was longer, thicker, obscene. Veins glowed faint along the shaft, pulsing green, the tip dripping clear nectar.
Run, a part of me screams.
When he looks down at me, his eyes are pits of black with metallic silver swirls simmering inside, molten and unblinking. Voices come from his mouth, low and layered, several tones vibrating in my bones.
“Breathe, witch.”
Breathing. Right.
I had almost forgotten about that detail of survival. Gods help me.
He’s terrifying.
He’s gorgeous.
He’s mine.
When he leans down, the antlers scrape the ceiling, breath gusting warm and damp across my chest. Teeth flash when he grins. They are too sharp, there’s too many. They could fucking swallow me whole.
“You’re trembling,” the voices run in a low, jagged bass.
“I … I’m sorry.” Fear curdles, twists … then Korin laughs, and it melts.
“You do not have anything to be sorry about, witch.”
Those massive hands curl around my thighs, claws pressing light. I realize I don’t want to escape.
I want to be caught.
