Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lenora
Inever saw Veyn’s possession of Marcus the first time. Never saw the thin streaks of blood that ribbon down from the corners of his eyes in sharp contrast to his complexion. I didn’t get to watch Marcus gasp and fall to his knees in agony.
“Stop it!”
I scramble off the slick altar and run to him. I’m unclear what my intentions are or how I will stop him. I only know that I must protect Marcus from the demon who has clearly lost his mind.
But I only just reach him when he stands. It’s so sudden, I skid to a halt a few feet away and watch as he rolls his shoulders. The hard muscles flex and bunch. A would-be delicious sight if his eyes weren’t black voids expelling thick, black coils.
“Is this better?” he taunts in a smirk Marcus has never made.
“Get out of him,” I snap.
My command is ignored as he moves lazily closer, his motions predatory and cruel. The leer on his face widening with my retreating shuffle.
“That isn’t what you said when you let me fuck you in this body.”
I hate the heat that swells in my cheeks at the reminder.
“This is different.”
He doesn’t need to ask how. I have no idea. It just is.
But he doesn’t.
He resumes his steady pace. His every stride tracking mine. The back of my heel catches the bottom step going up the platform and I tumble backwards. My spine cracks against the following ledges. The pain echoes and vanishes before the cry even leaves my lips, but it doesn’t matter.
Veyn is over me. He has Marcus’s hands twisted in my top. The buttons pop and ping in opposite directions, vanishing in the filth.
It’s impossible to tell when the entire surface of his eyes are black pools, but I know he’s running them over my naked frame.
“Such a perfect, beautiful sight you are.” He follows when I shuffle up onto the platform. “In all the centuries before, I have never seen such temptation. Such utter perfection. Every inch was crafted for me. You are my gift for this captivity, and I will not let you leave me again.”
I’m on my back, braced by my elbows, staring up at the man I love being worn like a jacket. The tattered remains of my top hang off my shoulders. The hem catches beneath me with my struggling attempts at escape across the filthy floor.
But every attempt is tracked by him.
“Open,” he orders, gaze fixed on my center. “Show me where you let him cum in you.”
I hate that my body is immediately filled with a need to obey. To give him everything he asks as long as he fills that ache in my chest. As long as he quiets the pain. Letting him take me is such a small payment when those seconds of ecstasy have become a drug.
“Let Marcus go,” I counter. “You can have me if you—”
He’s on me before I can finish.
Big hands shove my knees wide. They’re pushed up my chest, baring me to the mouth he latches to my opening.
I don’t like it.
I don’t like it.
I tell myself over and over even while I clutch fistfuls of his dark strands and drag him better into place.
The demon groans in pleasure and triumph and runs the flat of Marcus’s tongue up my slit. The sweet bliss of it has me cutting a hole into my bottom lip to keep my moan in check.
“Did you like it?” His tongue snakes past the ring to where I’m still wet from Marcus’s release. “Did you cum on his cock? Did you milk your uncle’s seed into your fertile belly?”
He knows I did, and still, I wheeze a helpless, “Yes!”
“Did he play with your sweet little nipples? Did you hold his head while he sucked on them?”
The points in question harden for attention.
“Yes.”
“Show me. Tease them.”
My hands tremble, but I lift them. I cradle my breasts. Roll the nipples while he watches.
“He wants you to pinch them and pull. More.”
I do as I’m told and earn two fingers in my opening. He pulls them in and out, digits soaked. And I watch, mesmerized by the stretch and glide.
“His cock is hard,” Veyn states. “He denies it but he wants me to fuck you right here on the filthy ground. To put you on your knees and pound your greedy cunt hard enough to make your tits bounce. He wants you ride to him and moan his name that way you do when you cum and your hole gets so tight and wet…”
I cum and he smirks like he’s proven a point.
“Get on your knees.”
I do much too quickly. The filthy and tattered top is torn from my body and cast aside. He stands and my gaze immediately falls to the rock-hard bulge pushing up the front of his trousers. My mouth waters even before his hands are at the fastens. I watch with hunger as he strips for me.
“Want this?” he taunts, running a wide palm down the length of his cock.
Stroking Marcus’s beautiful girth.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
I know the answer is my mouth. That’s why I’m on my knees, but I need him inside me.
“In me,” I whisper. “Inside.”
Marcus’s hand closes in my hair and I’m pulled forward. The fat head pushes between my lips. Forced down my throat.
The demon — or Marcus — groans.
“Look at her. Mouth full of her uncle’s thick cock. Fuck. That’s a good girl. Take all of it. Get him close so I can use your hole to jerk him off. A warm, slippery sleeve.”
I obey with desperate need. I suck him to the back of my throat. Touch his pelvis with my lips.
Over my head, the men guiding my mouth over and down the length makes a sound of unadulterated pleasure that curls my toes.
I’m so dedicated to my task, my lips make a popping sound when he pulls free without warning. I’m pulled to my feet without explanation and kissed.
The heady taste of his mouth erases the rest of the world.
It mutes every noise in my head. I fall into that gentle pressure of his every sip and drown with no desire for survival.
I don’t know what kind of power he has that can do that, but I don’t care.
Nothing matters except to finally have him inside me.
Which is why I don’t resist when he pulls me up in his arms. My legs find their home around his hips.
I expect us to head for the altar like last time, but I’m taken up the smooth row of stairs littered with hundreds of candles again. At the top, I’m set on my feet.
“Will you please me?”
I’m prepared to tell him I was, but I don’t think that’s what he means.
“Yes.”
Pride shines across the dark surface of his eyes before I’m being turned. Made to face the room with the gleaming, onyx box with its wood top and carefully dusted space. It’s not at all like the filthy, grimy chamber we’d been brought to.
“Is this real or the other one?” I ask.
“Whichever I feel like showing,” he answers.
But further discussion smothered when I’m pulled back into his lap, suspended five feet from the ground. He’s partially reclined so my back settles across his chest.
“Impale yourself on his cock. Slowly. I want to feel you take every inch in your hole.”
I oblige with pleasure.
I grip the meaty shaft with one hand and lift my hips. The cap is hooked against my opening and I take him in.
We both groan.
His hands tighten on my hips. One slips away to tuck against my sex. Long fingers pull apart my lips. Stroke my clit.
“Once you’re full and stretched, I’m going to put your cunt to use. Going to use it for what it’s meant for while you enjoy your gift.”
“Gift?” I pant, halfway down.
He continues to graze my switch. Unhurried but so perfectly.
“If you hadn’t fucked this human without me, you would have already had it.”
I may be half gone with pleasure, but I don’t miss the statement.
“You were upset because Marcus and I were intimate?”
“No. I wasn’t upset. I don’t like being ignored.”
I resist the urge to tell him that’s ridiculous.
“But you said you wanted us to be together,” I say instead.
“Where I can see,” he growls into my ear. “I want to watch you getting fucked. Not you letting him use you for his pleasure. You’re mine. I get to say who takes a turn inside you.”
I settle to the hilt. The girthy length and width stretch my walls.
“That’s not how sharing works. You told Marcus to use me. You didn’t give guidelines. So, you can’t be … Veyn!’
He smacks my mound.
The crack sings through the chamber with the same vicious force as the sting that burns across my skin.
I try to snap my knees shut, but tendrils loop around my thighs, my hands. I’m held down and open to the second harder swat on my red and swollen lips.
My howl is ignored as he attacks my clit. Rubs it until I’m chasing the peak, only to get smacked again.
Rubbed.
Smacked.
I’m weeping and clutching at the appendage lodged inside me by the time we hit five.
“This is mine. You give it to anyone without my say again and I will tear off his dick and make you suck it before I lodge it in your ass.”
I’m so confused and aroused and swollen. And all the while, he won’t stop stroking.
“He liked that. Spanking your pussy. Likes how red and wet your lips are. He thinks I should kiss them. Want me to show you how?”
Sniffing, I nod and get his mouth on mine. It’s slow with his tongue moving over and through my lips. Invading my mouth with light flicks. He teases my tongue, luring it out into his where he sucks the tip.
“Like that, but he will have to wait. I want you exactly where you are.”
I don’t argue but sit and watch his hand get me close.
“She likes it,” he says, I’m assuming to Marcus. “Don’t you, pet? Tell your uncle you like taking his cock raw. Taking his seed.”
“I do,” I pant. “Like feeling you warm inside me.”
“See? She wants this.”
I don’t hear Marcus’s response, but I feel it in the hot splatter of cum that jets up inside me. I gasp at the rush, a little disappointed that he won’t let me cum.
But my frustrations are met with a panicked cry when my filled opening is invaded by cool, weaving tentacles. They push past my ring and force along my walls to wrap around the semi hard erection still nestled there.
It’s honestly too much. The growth alone has me fighting to pull back, but Veyn pulls me down harder.
“Do you want your gift?”
I don’t know what I want when he’s curled into place with enough bulge that I can see the bump against my belly.
And then I feel it.
The barbs.
The sharp notches that anchor me in place.
“What…?”
“He’s going to dump inside you over and over and we’re going to keep it all where it belongs.”
“But I can’t move,” I pant.
“Can’t risk a leak. Now, sit still and enjoy your surprise.”
He gestures in the direction of the floor below where the altar is no longer empty.
A man, naked and wide awake, is bound to the surface. His wide, horrified eyes are fixed up at us, glassy with a fear that pumps his broad chest in erratic, shallow gasps.
Next to him, standing rigid and equally naked is another man. Both have the same dark mop of curls damp with perspiration and faces slick with tears. The strands gleam in the hypnotic sway of candles that reflect in the dark voids of their eyes.
I have never met Augustus or Bernard Duval, but I’ve seen photos of them in papers under some of the worst headlines.
Both have always been notorious for getting into legal troubles.
Everything from carrying a concealed weapon, to drugs, to the rape and brutal torture of men and women.
Nothing ever seemed to come of the allegations.
Witnesses always vanished and evidence mysteriously got lost. Victims either disappeared or dropped their complaint.
But I never forgot.
I may not have met them, but I know what kind of monsters they are.
Spoiled and protected.
A dangerous combination.
Seeing them here before me doesn’t surprise me the way I’m sure I should be. Maybe it’s the serrated claws embedded deep inside me, preventing me from breathing properly, but I’m very blasé about their presence in comparison.
Veyn/Marcus’s finger drifting lazily over my clit in feather-light strokes isn’t helping. Each pass sends a fresh surge of pressure through me that tightens my muscles and urges my hips to shift. But every attempt has the barbs digging deeper. Can feel them cutting into my walls.
“Focus,” he murmurs into my ear, reminding me of the two far below us.
Bernard — the one strapped to the table by seemingly nothing — is no longer looking at us but staring at his brother and the blade clutched in his hands.
I hadn’t seen where the thing came from, but it catches the firelight. The spark lances up the fine edge with every tremor that passes through him.
Augustus has the expression of someone witnessing their worst nightmare. It’s the red blotches rising to his neck. The aggressive vines bulging at this temple and throat. It’s taking every ounce of his control to resist.
In a deep part of my brain, I wonder if this was how his victims felt. Before the stories were changed and got concealed, I read the original versions. I know what they did to people, especially women. I know about the humiliation and abuse.
Maybe not firsthand, but I like to believe that dozens of allegations can’t be wrong. Hundreds of horrific photos of the scenes and the victims can’t be accidents. They brutalized people for amusement.
Him looking like he’s trying to take a nasty shit does not pull on my heart strings.
“Can they hear us?” I ask.
My question is answered when Augustus jerks his head up in our direction.
“Where are we?” he growls in a weak, shaky croak. “Do you know who we are?”
I study the terror clouding what I’m sure is a moderately handsome face.
Neither he nor his brother hold the capability to match Eliah or Ames.
Everything about them is harsh. Aggressive.
As if the universe had known from their conception that they would be vile and supplied them with faces that matched.
“Did you kill them?” I ask, pushing up the best I can without shredding my insides. “My boys. Did you kill them?”