Chapter 21 Konstantin
twenty-one
Konstantin
If the dead do walk these halls, they can take a number because I’m already possessed by something far more dangerous than a lonesome spirit.
Cressida stands across the room, her laughter lifting as Sunniva says something obscene. Her black veil’s gone, and her combat boots are kicked under the table, leaving her barefoot with her wild curls tumbling down her back.
She’s chaos personified. My chaos.
The bond is hot beneath my skin, my senses razor-edged from the aftershock of it locking into place.
I feel her in my bones, my blood, my fucking soul, and it’s driving me insane.
I move through the crowd with a predator’s ease.
Misha lifts a brow when I pass, smirking knowingly, but he doesn’t say anything.
Smart man. The last person who dared make a comment about my wife was barely left breathing.
I brush past Lucetta, clap a hand on Kingston’s shoulder before he can scowl at me again for ‘corrupting his sister’ and then I’m in front of my little fox.
She tilts her head up, her eyes sparkling with mischief and something much darker. Something that matches the pull in my gut.
“You look like you’re plotting murder, monster man,” she murmurs.
“Close. I’m plotting how many ways I can split you open tonight before your voice breaks.”
Her breath catches and I feel it through the bond. That hit of lust, of heat, of a challenge I hadn’t yet thrown down.
Oh, little fox. Game on, baby girl.
Wrapping her hand in mine, I pull her from the table, ignoring the whistles and laughter from behind us.
We don’t stop until we’re at the bottom of a stairwell that leads to the second floor in the back hall where the paint peels in curls and the draft brushes along our skin.
There’s a little sign on a velvet rope blocking it off that says STAFF ONLY which obviously means fun happens beyond this point.
The silence of the asylum wraps around us, broken only by our breathing and the occasional burst of noise coming from direction of the reception.
“Run.”
Cressida’s brow arches. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Lisichka. Run. Give me a chase.”
She plants her hands on her curvy, thick hips and my tongue drifts along my bottom lip as I picture them wrapped around my shoulders as I shove my cock deep into her cunt.
“You’re literally faster than everyone in this building. Not fair.”
“Fine.” I shrug off my suit jacket and crack my neck. “I won’t use the bond or my abilities. No vision, no hearing. Nothing that would give me an unfair advantage. It would defeat the purpose.”
She narrows her eyes at me and purses her lips. “You swear?”
“On my life.”
I’ll give her anything she asks for and then take whatever the hell she gives me back.
Her mouth curls into a devilish grin and she leans in, brushing a kiss along my jaw. “Then try to catch me, husband.”
And she bolts.
Fuck, she’s fast.
Unfortunately for her, I’m faster.
Because I’m such a generous husband, though, I give her a three second head start before I start after her.
The halls creak with every step I take and the shadows flicker in the broken light of the antique sconces.
She’s laughing somewhere up ahead, that wild, breathless sound echoing off the walls.
It claws something awake in my chest that has nothing to do with running.
It’s hunger.
It’s the thrill of the hunt.
It’s the woman who is mine in every way that matters, taunting me with her speed, her laughter, her fucking delicious scent that makes my cock weep.
She rounds the corner up ahead with the swish of black satin and the flash of bare leg.
Fuck.
Pushing harder, I close the distance between us, my hands grazing the chipped wallpaper, my breathing nearly violent. Every sense screams to use my full strength.
Not using the bond is an exercise in self-torture.
I reach the third floor, not far behind her.
Old patient rooms long abandoned with their doors wide open greet me.
Now, they’re nothing but decaying furniture and faded whispers of madness.
She slips into one of them, slamming the door behind her.
I follow after, opening it slowly, letting the tension build the same way a predator toys with its prey.
She’s crouched behind a table.
I lean against the doorway and fold my arms over my chest. “You know I can hear your heartbeat, right?”
“Cheater.”
“You married a monster, Lisichka. You expected mercy?”
She pops up from behind it, ready to bolt, but I move fast, catching her before she can dodge around me. I lift her up and she wraps her legs around my waist as I pin her against the wall with my body, and my mouth finds hers.
The kiss is nothing a priest would bless. It’s teeth and devotion and the sound she makes when I press her back to the peeling plaster almost, fucking almost, has me coming in my slacks.
“Took you long enough,” she pants.
“I was savoring the hunt.”
The dress tangles in my fist, and I yank.
It shreds, spilling her gorgeous fucking tits into my hands.
Leaning down, I bite one hard enough to make her cry out and then suck until she’s writhing against me.
All fucking night, her eyes told me how brutal she wants me tonight.
She wants me more monster than man, and I’m fucking going to give it to her.
Her hips grind against my cock that’s still trapped in my slacks.
“Kon—”
I drag my mouth down her throat, biting deep enough to mark so she’ll be wearing me for weeks. She hisses and that sound slides straight through me like fuel. I shove my hand between her thighs, my fingers dragging through her slick heat.
“Already soaked,” I growl against her skin. “You’re my good little slut, aren’t you?”
Her hips buck against my hand. “Yes,” she gasps. “Fuck. Kon—”
I press two fingers inside, curling them until she screams, grinding my palm against her clit. Her cunt grips me like it’s fucking starving and she claws at me as pleas fall from her lips.
“Say it,” I snarl. “Say you’re my good little whore, and I might be nice.”
“I’m yours,” she sobs, her eyes wild, her nails digging into the skin at my neck.
“Good girl,” I purr.
I drag my fingers out and shove them into her mouth. “Taste yourself. Find out why I’m so fucking obsessed with your taste on my tongue. Find out why I’m about to fucking ruin you, Lisichka.”
Her tongue curls around them and sucks, her eyes locked on mine. My cock twitches painfully against my zipper.
I yank my cock free, thick and hard, with a bead of cum sitting at the head and run a hand along my length.
Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever been as hard as this woman makes me.
My perfect little slut.
My own little fuck toy.
Fuck, she owns the hell out of me.
Her hands yank and pull at my shirt greedily until it I shake it the rest of the way off then I drag my length through her slick folds until she whines.
“Please,” she begs.
“Please what?” I slap the head of my cock against her clit, watching her shudder. “Say it, baby. Beg for it like the good little slut you are.”
“Please fuck me, Kon. Please. I need it. I need you.”
I slam into her in one brutal stroke, burying myself to the hilt. She screams, my name tearing from her, her nails digging rivers down my back, yanking a hiss of pleasure from my chest. Her pretty pussy stretches around me, tight, hot, wet enough to drown in.
My hips pound her into the wall, every thrust savage, my cock driving so deeply I can feel her cervix kiss the head. Her tits bounce, her head smacks the plaster, and her voice shreds into sobs of my name.
“Listen to you,” I sneer gently, my teeth on her ear. “Screaming like you were made for this cock. You’re nothing but my fuck toy now, aren’t you, baby?”
“Yes,” she cries, clinging tighter, her legs a vice around me.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’m all yours too,” I soothe as her pussy clamps around me, squeezing me like iron and heaven at once.
I bite her shoulder again until blood beads, licking it up while I slam harder, faster.
The bond flares, white-hot, and I shove my thumb on her clit, grinding in cruel, tight circles.
She spasms, screaming as her orgasm tears through her body so violently I feel it rip through me, the bond crackling like lightening.
I keep fucking her through it, harder, punishing her and worshipping at once.
My hips pound against hers until she’s sobbing incoherently and her mascara runs in black rivets down her face.
I slam into her until she’s shaking apart, until my balls slap wetly against her ass and I can no longer hold back.
Growling her name, I bury my teeth in her throat as I spill inside her. My cock jerks, filling her so full it leaks down her thighs. I grind through it, owning every fucking twitch until she’s wrecked, sobbing, and clinging to me like she can’t breathe without me.
No worries, little fox. You’re the air in my lungs too.
We collapse together onto the ruined mattress in the corner of the room, her thighs sticky, her throat bruised, and my chest scored bloody.
The room stinks of sex, sweat, and iron.
I hold her the way a man holds something holy and fragile, palm flat across the curve of her back, my fingers splayed so she knows exactly where I am.
“So, that was new,” she says with a breathless laugh. “But you cheated. No normal man has that much speed when having sex.”
I smirk against her temple. “It wasn’t my abilities that made you scream like that. That was all cock, Lisichka.”
She smacks my chest weakly with a ruined laugh. “You’re insufferable.”
Cupping her chin, I gently lift her face so I can peer into her eyes. “And you, my beautiful wife, are my insufferable little slut.”
Cressida moans, curling against me tighter, still trembling. “Goddess, help me, but I am. And I like it.”
I laugh softly and decide to tease her. “Where is your rebellion?”
“Meh. I’ll get back to it tomorrow. Rebellious in the streets, freak in the sheets, and all that.”
Fuck, I love this woman.
I kiss her temple, my cock still hard inside her. “You’ll never outrun me again.”
Her eyes shoot sparks at me. “That sounds like a challenge.”
Even used and shaking, she’s still got fire.
Gripping her jaw, I force her mouth to mine, kissing her filthy and deep, moving my hips gently. “That’s a promise. And tomorrow, I’ll ruin you so deeply again that you won’t be able to walk without feeling the way I abused your pretty little cunt tonight.”
Thunder rattles the asylum as if the sky is applauding. The ghosts don’t speak either, because even the dead know better than to break the fight between the monsters who love each other in a way that tastes like war.
Just as I’m about to claim my woman again, a rush of coldness fills the air around us and the hair on my arms rise. We’re closing in on the witching hour, and the residents of this building are beginning to get restless with so many people in their space.
I sigh, kissing her forehead, before lifting her gently from my lap. “We should get out of here. I still don’t trust that Giselda won’t make a move.”
“Why do you think she didn’t?”
Fucking hate the tremor of fear in her voice. I curl my fingers around the back of her neck, holding her in place. “Because we were expecting it. The Reaper likes toying with us.”
“Well, whatever her reason, I’m happy that this day wasn’t ruined for us.”
“You’re happy?” I ask, hating the vulnerability in my voice.
Cressida’s palm touches my cheek, her fingers wrapping around my jawline. “Yeah, monster man. I’m happy.” She brushes a soft kiss against my lips before standing and looking around. “My dress, however, is not.”
“I’m not sorry about it.”
She giggles, the sound bright and free. “Me either. It was hot. But I can’t exactly leave here in my birthday suit.”
“Damn straight,” I growl, climbing to my feet. “All of this is mine.”
I grab my shirt from the dusty floor, shaking it out, and then pulling it over her shoulders. My fingers still when I get to the top button, my eyes latching onto the bite marks I left on her neck.
Leaning down, I brush my lips gently over them. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being a monster who can’t always be gentle.”
“Stop. We both wanted it. Don’t pretend you owe me an apology for being yourself.”
“I love you, Lisichka,” I tell her for the first time.
Her eyes turn glassy as she beams at me. “I love you too, monster man.”
We gather up her dress and entwine our fingers together, stepping out into the hall.
A shadow moves at the end of the corridor, and the temperature drops another ten degrees.
The smell of old smoke and lavender slides down the hall and teases our nostrils.
The apparition floats close enough for us to make her out more clearly before stilling and staring.
A woman in an obsolete nurse’s dress watches us with her feet hovering an inch off the floor.
Cressida goes very soft against me. Not from fear, but from recognition.
“Okay,” she says in a small, delighted voice. “I wasn’t actually expecting to see you.”
“We should probably not piss off the dead,” I tell her, tightening my fingers around hers.
She gives the ghost an adorable little wave. “Hi. Sorry for desecrating your rooms with our filthy, heathen ways. We’ll be getting off your turf now.”
Cressida turns to stare at me with a huge smile and then we crack up like two idiot newlyweds with adrenaline in our blood and hauntings on our wedding night. Her laughter curls into my chest and ignites something reckless and joyful in my soul.
“Come on, Lisichka. Let’s finish our night somewhere less . . . possessed.”
“Deal. Race you down.”
And just like that, I’m running down the stairs with my barefoot wife at my side, laughing like a fucking teenager breaking curfew as we trip over each other and grabbing at banisters as the old asylum howls behind us. We burst through the side doors and into the cold that makes the night feel new.
I tuck her under my arm as we wait for Misha to bring the SUV around and tuck my mouth against the side of her neck. I taste the clean edges of a life that didn’t fully exist until this morning.
I’ve not been a man who has experienced much happiness in this life. It’s usually fleeting, disappearing under the weight of the crown I wear. Cressida, though . . . she’s happiness. She’s the one thing I’d burn it all fucking down for.
My chaos. My fire. My conscience.
She’s also trouble incarnate, and I’ve never been more doomed—or more alive—in my existence.