Chapter 28 #2
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this disheveled. He usually emerges at night like he’s been sculpted for perfection. I think I like this even better than the polished version– he’s never looked so frighteningly real.
He devours me with his gaze like hasn’t eaten in days. As if he’s not sure whether he wants to consume me, worship me, or just hold me until I dissolve.
“You’re here,” he rasps.
I close the book on my lap, smoothing a palm over the cracked leather cover. “Where else would I be?”
James smiles, then crosses the room in three steps– the kind of movement too fast to register– but I never flinch anymore. Not with him. He stops just close enough that I have to tilt my head up to meet his gaze.
Ozzy wakes, arching his back and hissing. A warning– or maybe just an excuse to insert himself between us.
James cocks an eyebrow at him. “Could’ve left that at the apartment.”
“Non-negotiable,” I remind him, a faint smile touching my lips.
He frowns at Ozzy. “He’s a liability.”
“He’s family,” I counter.
James flicks a glance at me, weighing the argument, then shrugs. “I’ll continue to tolerate him. For you.”
As if he knows he’s won this round, Ozzy leaps from my lap and saunters to the window seat with a swagger only cats can pull off, curling into a perfect, smug little crescent. I let the silence hang between us for a moment, both a challenge and an invitation.
James drops to a crouch in front of me, taking my hand in his. His touch is cool, but the chill burns off the static in my veins.
“You’re staying, then,” he says quietly, searching my face.
“I’m staying,” I confirm. “If you’ll have me.”
He brings my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles in answer. “You know what this means,” he murmurs as he lowers it. “If we bond– if you drink from me– there’s no going back.”
I think of how Annabel Lee ends with the narrator lying beside his dead love, not because he wants to, but because he can’t not. Because love, when it’s real, is a kind of death.
“I know,” I whisper. “But I’m ready. I’m not afraid.”
Something sharp flickers in James’ pale blue eyes– a flare of wildness, mixed with relief.
“We will have to go over some ground rules,” I add quickly, before he gets any ideas about tearing my clothes off right here.
He smoothly rises to his feet, towering over me with one brow arched. “Such as?”
I exhale steadily, gathering my thoughts. “Well, for starters, no more secrets. No more lies by omission, either.”
“Done,” he says without hesitation.
“And this has to be a real relationship,” I continue. “Not just some… blood thing. I mean marriage-level commitment. Monogamy, unless both of us want to spice things up and explicitly agree otherwise. I know you’ve got the whole notorious playboy sex god reputation, but for this to–”
“Done,” he cuts in, his jaw tightening. “I slept around out of sheer boredom. No one ever satisfied me.” His voice softens. “You do. I haven’t wanted anyone else since you walked into my life, darling.”
My pulse stumbles. Damn him– he knows exactly how to aim a word and make it wound sweetly. “Oh. Okay, then,” I manage, trying not to sound too breathless.
“Anything else?” James asks, eyes glinting. “Or can I take you upstairs now and claim what’s mine?”
A smirk tugs at my lips. I cross my arms, tilting my chin up. “Actually, yes. I know you get off on the whole mine thing, but let’s be clear– it goes both ways. If I’m yours, then you’re mine. We belong to each other.”
He plants his hands on the arms of the chair, leaning down over me with a predator’s grin. “Well obviously, mea dulcis,” he croons, his face hovering inches from my own, eyes locked on mine. “Hasn’t it always been that way?”
My mouth opens, but no words come. I’d never really considered that. That while he’s been staking his claim on me all this time, I’ve had one over him, too.
The thought is a jolt of electricity– a dark thrill that makes me feel powerful in a way I never have before.
“Obviously,” I scoff, trying to play it cool even though my heart’s suddenly beating a mile a minute.
James smiles, and in the next instant, I’m in his arms. He scoops me up from the chair bridal style, and before I can protest, the world lurches.
Being carried with vampire speed is disorienting every time.
It’s not quite like vertigo; more like the air folds in on itself, and for a split second I exist everywhere and nowhere at once.
When it settles, we’re in a room I’ve never seen before.
My eyes widen, breath catching. The space is enormous– almost cavernous.
The only light comes from a narrow strip of recessed LEDs set high along the crown molding, washing the room in an icy blue glow that mirrors his eyes.
The floor is dark hardwood, the walls black and hung with a few stark, modern paintings that read more as violence than art.
A pair of antique swords gleam near a marble fireplace, and I pointedly decide not to ask whether they’ve seen actual combat.
The bed dominates everything. Bigger than a king, set on a raised platform, raven-black sheets pooled like spilled ink. There’s nothing else– no clutter, no books, no trinkets– just the bed and a low storage bench at its foot.
James sets me down, his hand lingering at my waist. “Welcome to my room,” he murmurs, voice threaded with dark amusement.
I can’t help it– I look for the coffin.
He follows my gaze and laughs. “What were you expecting, little mortal? Velvet drapes? Candles? Maybe a portrait of myself over the mantel?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised,” I admit, smirking.
He leans in, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “You want to see the coffin?”
My stomach flips. I whirl toward him, wide-eyed.
He laughs– a real, unrestrained sound that shatters the moment’s tension.
We’re so close that I can feel it vibrate through me, and a breathless giggle escapes before I can stop it.
I tilt my head up and find his gaze waiting, molten.
Then he claims my mouth in a filthy hot kiss.
His hands find the small of my back, then my hips, then the sides of my face.
He kisses like he’s memorizing me, mapping every nerve for later detonation.
When he finally pulls back, I’m dizzy, my lips swollen. “So,” I manage, voice a little wobbly. “How does this work? The bond? Is it a ritual or something?”
James traces a thumb along my jaw, then tilts my chin up. “It’s not that complicated,” he murmurs. “As far as I understand, we just share blood.” His mouth curves, slow and wicked. “But fucking you while doing it would make it immensely more enjoyable.”
A shiver rolls through me.
“We don’t have to rush into anything you’re not ready for,” he adds, eyes searching mine.
“I’m ready,” I say, meaning it with my whole chest. “For everything.”
His pupils flare, swallowing the blue, thumb dragging over my lower lip. “You sure?”
I nod, pulse ticking in my throat. “No holding back.”
James sweeps me into another kiss, then backs me toward the bed.
His hands are everywhere, exploring my body like a map he’s studied a thousand times but still finds new roads in.
He peels off my sweatshirt, then my bra, cupping my breasts in his palms. His thumbs circle my nipples until I shiver.
My jeans come off with a single, fluid yank.
He drops to his knees, lips at my hipbone, tongue tracing the seam of my underwear before easing them down and off.
His eyes trace every inch of me with an intensity that makes me squirm. I’m naked, but I don’t feel exposed. I feel seen.
James stands and steps back, as if to let the view sink in even further. He’s still in his sweatpants, but his hard-on is obvious, tenting the dark fabric. He watches me with his head tilted, like he can’t decide whether to pounce or kneel.
Instead, he turns and opens a drawer built into the bench at the foot of the bed.
“Tell me, darling,” he murmurs, glancing back at me over his shoulder. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” I answer breathily.
He produces a length of black silk, a blindfold, then a set of leather cuffs.
Next comes a crop and a paddle. The sight of the implements should make me nervous, but instead a fierce excitement roars up inside me.
I’ve never experimented with bondage or impact play, but with him, I’m eager to try.
Honestly, there isn’t much I wouldn’t try with him.
James circles behind me, the weight of his stare like a caress.
He ties the blindfold around my eyes, and the world dissolves into darkness.
Then he brings me over to the bed, guiding me to kneel in the center.
The mattress is soft, my breathing unsteady.
He fastens the cuffs around my wrists, then brings them together behind my back.
A pause follows, then the soft brush of his lips on my nape.
“You can stop me at any time,” he rasps.
“I won’t,” I promise.
“Don’t push yourself further than you’re comfortable with,” he replies sternly. “If you need to stop, or even just slow down, say mercy.”
I nod like a bobblehead, the sensory deprivation already making me weak with arousal.
“What’s your safe word, Taylor?” James asks in a low voice.
“Mercy,” I whisper.
“Good girl.”
His praise floods through me like a pulse of light, eliciting another shiver. He moves around me, unseen but felt in every breath and every subtle shift of the mattress. Each moment stretches, drawn thin with expectation. Every sound, every brush of air, becomes its own kind of intimacy.
He traces my spine with his tongue, then with the flat of his palm, pressing me down until my cheek rests against the silk sheets. I’m breathless, my heart roaring, every nerve ending sparking.
He starts slow. Testing boundaries; testing me. He strikes with his hand first, then a crop, then a paddle– each impact a question, each pause an invitation to say mercy. But I don’t. I want it all: the pain, the pleasure, the way it dissolves the last fragments of shame.
Each sensation builds until I can barely tell where one ends and the next begins. I hold on, letting it consume me, wanting to know what lies beyond surrender.
Because this isn’t about pain. It’s about trust– about letting him see the parts of me no one else ever has.
I gasp and tremble, the sharp edge of pain melting seamlessly into pleasure.
Each touch is a question, each strike followed by a tender caress that leaves me shaking and undone.
When he finally pushes into me from behind, I practically sob with relief.
He fills me in one smooth stroke, impossibly deep.
Each thrust that follows is measured, controlled, but the edge in his restraint only makes it hotter.
I can feel him holding back– feel the violence trembling in his muscles, sensing how close he is to losing control.
His body blankets mine, mouth finding my throat.
When his fangs graze my skin, I tense, waiting for the shot of pain.
It comes, but layered over the cresting pleasure it’s almost too much.
I scream his name as I come undone beneath him, the world narrowing to the rush of his mouth, the pull of him drinking, and the dizzying surrender of giving everything I am.
Just as my climax ebbs, he pulls back, sealing the bite with a drag of his tongue. He frees my wrists from the cuffs, turning me on my back and removing the blindfold. The sight of him– mouth stained red, eyes burning with something primal– nearly undoes me all over again.
“Ready to taste my power, mea dulcis?” he growls.
I nod, trembling with need.
He brings his wrist to his mouth, bites down, and offers it to me.
“Drink,” he commands.
I hesitate for a half a second before my lips part.
The taste is warm and metallic, humming with energy.
I close my lips over his skin and suck, power flooding through me like liquid light and overwhelming every sense.
I can feel him– his hunger, his desire, the wild echo of my own emotions doubled and reflected back at me.
After a few sips, he retracts his wrist, sealing the wound. Then he parts my thighs, lines up, and sinks into me again. My back arches, toes curling as he starts riding my body slow and deep, his chest rumbling with a guttural groan.
“Can you feel it, mea dulcis?”
“Yes,” I pant.
The connection between us is impossible to contain, the rhythm of shared power thrumming through my veins.
He dips his head down to kiss me, our blood mixing on our tongues.
It’s weirdly hot, erotic in a way that unlocks a kink I never knew I had.
His hand slides between us, thumb circling my clit.
Within seconds, I detonate again, inner walls clenching around him as he fucks into me harder, hips eventually stuttering as he finds his own release.
When it’s over, I’m shaking, drenched in sweat, blood, and tears I didn’t even realize I was crying.
James gathers me in his arms, holding me close.
We lie together tangled in black silk, and for a long time, neither of us speaks.
Words aren’t needed. I’ve never felt so connected to another person; so profoundly complete.
Finally, I tilt my chin to gaze up at him. “What now?” I ask, voice gone hoarse.
His lips curve in a faint, knowing smile. “Now, we step into our power and rule, regina mea. Together.”
I close my eyes with a contented hum. “Together. I like the sound of that.”
James hits the lights, the room immediately descending into pitch black. His lips brush my temple, the faintest ghost of a smile against my skin. The world beyond us feels impossibly distant– like nothing exists outside of this vow, this moment.
It feels right. Steady. Safe.
And maybe that’s what I’ve been chasing all along– the chance to be broken, remade, and pieced back together by someone who sees all of me, even in the dark.