Chapter 29
The Prey
T he next time I wake up, the bedroom is cast in light, and I’m surrounded by Valentine. My back is against his chest, he has one arm and leg thrown over me, as though even in sleep he wants to make sure I’m close.
As I look down, I realize he’s still wearing the wrap around his wrist. I’m itching to remove it, or maybe even say that I know what he’s hiding. But I don’t.
I know that if I admit it out loud, I’ll shatter this bubble of… I don’t even know what to call it. But I’m not ready for it to end, not yet.
“I can feel you overthinking, Pet,” he rumbles, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine. “How are you feeling?”
Smiling, I turn in his arms so I’m facing him, throwing my leg over his hip. “I’m…” I want to say I’m fine, because I am. But at the same time, I’m not. Every part of me aches, I’m scared about the future, but none of that is at the forefront of my mind. Valentine is, and as long as I’m in his arms, I’m more than fine; I’m perfect.
“Are you in pain?” he asks.
“A little,” I admit instead, my voice small and thready to my own ears.
Som ething flashes in Valentine’s eyes. Concern, maybe. Or guilt. He raises a hand to my face, his knuckles grazing gently over my bruised cheek. His jaw clenches, but his touch remains featherlight as he inspects my injuries.
“He did quite a number on you,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me.
I nod, fresh tears pricking at the backs of my eyes. “It’s not the first time. But this time was different.” Shit, why did I just say that?
Valentine’s gaze snaps back to mine, his brow furrowing. “Why did he attack you, Ruby? What set him off this time?”
I freeze, panic seizing in my chest. Mentally, I wrestle with the decision of whether or not to tell him the truth; that Michael saw his bite mark on my shoulder and flew into a jealous rage, unleashing his fury on my body.
“He…” I take a shaky breath, steeling myself. “He saw the mark you left on me.” My fingers drift unconsciously to my skin, where Valentine left the imprint of his teeth.
His eyes follow the movement, darkening with some unreadable emotion. “I see,” he says quietly. “And what did you tell him about it?”
“Nothing,” I whisper, holding his gaze. Willing him to believe me. “I swear, Valentine. I didn’t say anything about you. I’d never betray you like that.”
The words hang heavy in the charged air between us, an oath of loyalty. Of trust. Valentine studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nods. “I know you wouldn’t, Pet.”
It hasn’t escaped my notice that he just called me what should be an endearment, but with the lilt to his tone, it comes across more like a title. It’s not the first time he’s called me that, and just like the other times, I’m not sure I mind.
Actually, scratch that. With the way my ego is preening, I don’t mind it one bit. It even makes me feel proud in a weird way.
Wordlessly, he places a soft kiss on my cheek while he untangles himself from me, and moves us so I’m lying on my back in the middle of the bed with him hovering above me.
“Let me take care of you,” he rasps, his fingers tracing the outline of my bru ises. I flinch at the contact, but I don’t pull away. Instead, I lean into his touch, savoring the feeling of his skin against mine.
His featherlight caress steals my breath away, and I fight to keep my eyes open. They automatically want to close, but I don’t want to miss a moment of what he’s doing. Every brush of his fingers sends electricity humming through my veins. It’s too much and not enough all at once.
“Why do you make me feel this way?” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
It might seem like an odd thing to ask since feelings by nature are irrational. But men like him aren’t soldiers of chance. They’re the ones who take charge of every aspect of their lives, including their feelings.
Valentine looks up, his dark eyes meeting mine. For a moment, I see a flicker of something in his gaze, a glimpse of the man beneath the mask. “How do I make you feel?” he counters.
“Alive,” I admit. “Wanted, desired, and… seen.”
Splaying his hand on top of my tattoo, he rasps, “To me, you’re all of that.” My heart skips a beat as I hear the revenant undertone.
A part of me feels as though he wants to say more, so I don’t respond. But as a pregnant silence hangs between us, and his touch comes to an end, I decide to play him at his own game by staying quiet.
“I never thanked you for protecting me,” he suddenly says.
“No need,” I whisper, licking my lips. “I’d do it again.”
He makes an approving sound in the back of his throat as he shifts on the bed, pressing his body against mine, making me feel the tension in his muscles, coiled and waiting, as his lips hover just inches from mine.
His hand cups my jaw, his thumb brushing along my cheek, and when his mouth finally claims mine, I feel it everywhere—like a spark igniting a fire beneath my skin. The kiss is slow at first, careful, like he’s testing the waters.
I shiver beneath him, my body reacting on instinct as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine, tasting of something dark and addictive. My fingers dig into his back, the feel of his skin beneath my palms grounding me in this moment. His taste is overwhelming, intoxicating, and I want more.
I a rch into him, feeling the heat of his chest pressed against mine, the thin barrier of his black boxer briefs only heightening the ache between my thighs.
His scruff grazes the sensitive skin of my neck as he kisses down my jaw, and I gasp, the sensation almost too much. Every nerve ending sparks as his mouth trails lower. He knows exactly what he’s doing, taking his time, savoring every inch of me like I’m something precious.
Moving down the bed, he positions his head between my spread thighs. “Mhmm your cunt is already so wet and swollen,” he growls.
I moan, anticipation coiling tight within me as his breath ghosts over my slick folds. His hands slide up my inner thighs, spreading me wider for him. The desire pooling in my core is almost unbearable, the need to feel his mouth on me overwhelming every other thought.
He looks up at me, eyes dark and hungry, and the sight sends a fresh wave of arousal coursing through me. His fingers tease along the edges of my sex, spreading the wetness that’s gathered there.
“You’re so ready for me,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust.
With deliberate slowness, he leans in and drags his tongue up my slit, tasting me. I cry out as pleasure arcs through me like lightning. He hums appreciatively against my flesh, the vibration sending shivers up my spine.
Using his thumbs, he parts my folds, exposing my clit to his eager mouth. The first flick of his tongue over that sensitive bundle of nerves makes me gasp, my back arching off the bed. He grins against me, clearly pleased with my reaction, and continues his deliberate assault on my senses.
I mewl, hips bucking against his face, seeking more of that maddeningly gentle touch. His fingers dig into my thighs, holding me firmly in place as he goes to work. He laps at my clit with a skilled precision that has my toes curling and my breath coming in shallow gasps. My hands find purchase in his hair, tugging him closer, desperate for more.
He chuckles against me, the sound sending delicious vibrations straight to my core. “Impatient, aren’t we?” he murmurs before plunging his tongue deep inside me.
I n early scream at the intrusion, pleasure and sensation crashing over me in waves. He fucks me with his tongue, each stroke deliberate and measured. His nose nudges against my clit with every movement, adding another layer of exquisite torment.
“Oh! God!” I cry out.
The room is filled with the obscene sounds of his mouth working on me: the wet slide of his tongue, the soft hums of satisfaction he lets out.
I can feel his low groans of pleasure reverberate through me, the vibrations amplifying my arousal. My hips buck instinctively, trying to get closer to his mouth, needing more. He grips my thighs tighter, holding me steady as he devours me like a man starved.
His fingers join in the torment, sliding into me with ease, curling just right to hit that spot inside that makes my vision blur. The combination is electric; the relentless assault on my clit and the delicious stretch from his fingers plunging deep inside me.
Palming my tits, I dig my nails into my areolas until I draw blood. Paired with Valentine’s skilled mouth, the pulsation that follows the pain pushes me toward my orgasm.
“I’m going to… yes, just like that. Valentine!” My moans intensifies, my back arching off the bed.
He doesn’t relent, pushing me further and further into the abyss of pleasure. His tongue and fingers work in tandem, driving me insane with every calculated stroke. I’m spiraling, completely at his mercy.
“That’s it, Pet. Rub your juices all over my face,” he growls against my clit, the vibration of his voice sending shockwaves through me. “I want to taste all of you.”
And that’s all it takes. My orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, violent and consuming. My entire body tenses and then shudders uncontrollably as I scream his name, my nails raking across his scalp in desperation.
He doesn’t stop. He continues to lap at me, drawing out my pleasure as long as possible. Every flick of his tongue and thrust of his fingers prolongs my climax until I’m a trembling mess, barely able to form coherent thoughts.
When he finally pulls away, his lips glisten with my slickness, and there ’s a smug satisfaction in his eyes that makes my heart race.
While I bask in the afterglow and gather my breath, he moves back up, quickly fusing his lips to mine. I can taste myself on his tongue, and the realization has me moaning into his mouth.
I no longer care about the bruises or the pain that still lingers. All I care about is this moment, the way Valentine makes me feel.
His hand slides down my side, fingers gripping my waist as he pulls me closer, our bodies flush against each other. I feel every inch of him, every hard line, and I tremble beneath him, lost in the heat of his kiss. He’s consuming me, and I let him, because in this moment, I’m his. Fully, completely.
“You make me want to do things I shouldn’t,” he rasps against my skin.
“What things?” I ask, my voice trembling with pent up need and from the onslaught of his confession.
Valentine bites down on my bottom lip, not letting go until I hiss in pain as my skin breaks and blood coats the sensitive flesh. “I want to fuck you so hard you can’t walk for days,” he admits as he laps at the blood.
I don’t know what shocks me the most; hearing him say something so vulgar or his dark tone that makes it sound like a menacing promise.
“Then why don’t you?” I ask. When he looks like he’s wrestling with the decision, I wrap my legs around him, pushing my heels into his ass and canting my hips, using my body to urge him to make the right decision. “Please.”