CHAPTER ELEVEN
BARON
Earlann
“The short answer to your question is Morrigan,” I say as I turn her around so her back is facing me as I imagine she might still wish to maintain a modicum of her privacy. I begin pulling down her dress until it catches on her bound wrists. Her skin erupts with gooseflesh every time I touch her.
“Morrigan?” she asks in surprise.
“When I touched Cambion’s stone the second time, I wasn’t greeted with visions of the past,” I begin as I shift her hair from her back and spoon it over one of her shoulders. I run my finger down the length of her spine and she shivers in response.
“What did you see?” she asks, her voice shaky.
“I believe Morrigan used the stone as a vehicle in which to reach out to me,” I say.
She nods, and the air vibrates around us with some unseen force that drives me to take her, to experience the slickness of her. I should be suspicious that these feelings are not born of myself, but I’m not. I don’t care whether they originate from her or from me. They feel good. End of story.
The truth is that Eilish is a leech, a parasite, such that I am. We’re one and the same. Yes, she’s angel, as well, but that side of her doesn’t concern me because I don’t understand it. What I do understand is her driving hunger, the need she has for answers. I understand the darkness inside her, and I was well aware of its existence long before black, rubbery wings sprouted from her back.
Unlike Dragan and Cambion, I don’t fault her for her demonic side. I embrace it. The truth of her nature merely draws me closer to her because she’s the only person I’ve ever encountered who understands the pain within me. Because she feels it, too.
Neither one of us knows who we are. Our memories are locked away to conceal a truth we might never know. We were manipulated like puppets on a string, neither of us able to control the course of our own destinies due to the selfish whims of someone else.
I need this connection as much as I hate feeling helpless to it.
In general, I abhor ties to others. At the point you care for another person, you become weak. Furthermore, the only person you can ever rely on is yourself. Forget that rule, and you’ll wind up dead. I don’t intend to make the same mistake twice.
And yet…
It’s as if Eilish can see through the shadows that surround me. As if she can sense the man I used to be, behind the darkness that lingers in my eyes. At the same time, she doesn’t label me as Baron, such that the others do. Because she never knew Baron, I am Revenant to her. I am the man I believe myself to be. Neither of us has any allegiance to Baron and perhaps that’s another reason I’m drawn to her. And another reason I prefer to avoid the company of the others.
Of course, most rational people would prefer to avoid the company of Cambion and Dragan as all they do is quirrel with each other and it becomes quite tiresome.
“What did Morrigan say to you?” Eilish asks, probing me to continue our conversation.
“She asked me to become your protector,” I answer.
Eilish is quiet but her surprise echoes in the energy surrounding her.
“She believes you are in danger and I believe she also understands she can no longer rely on Dragan to fulfill the position.”
She nods and appears sorrow laden.
I continue. “She believes someone is forcing her silence which is why you haven’t heard her voice lately.”
“Forcing her silence?” she repeats.
“Yes, she mentioned something to that effect. That there was another force pressing down on her and disallowing her the ability to remain in contact with you.”
“Hmm,” she answers.
“Do you know who or what that force could be?”
“No,” she’s quick to answer. Too quick. Hmm, it would seem she’s hiding something though I don’t blame her. Every man, and woman I suppose, possess their secrets. There’s nothing wrong with that, in my mind.
She steps away, turning to face me again. She holds her open dress up against her breasts with her bound wrists as if she’s bashful.
I don’t say anything but just stand there, watching her.
“Can you return to the other side of the partition?” she asks, but drops her eyes when she does.
“Why?”
She glances up at me, as if surprised to hear my question. “I wish to bathe.”
“Do it in front of me.”
She swallows hard and makes no move to do anything.
“I make you nervous,” I say.
“Yes,” she admits, looking up at me with those innocent, wide blue eyes. “I… I didn’t think you…”
“Wanted you?” I interrupt her. She nods, and I chuckle. “Every man wants you, you silly girl.”
“But, you’re different. You aren’t driven by the same things other men are.”
I nod. She does understand. “And that makes me incapable of feeling lust?”
She glances down. “I suppose not.”
“Have you fed recently?” I ask her, although I already know the answer to the question. I’m curious as to whether or not she’ll admit the truth to me. She looks up at me in surprise again.
“Fed?”
“You realize you must feed the Succubus within you?” I ask. “In the same way you must feed your hunger with food, your body also feels hunger for a different type of… sustenance.”
“Yes, I realize,” she says rather sheepishly and looks away. I must admit, I’m surprised at this side of her. I had imagined the Succubus would have turned her into quite the minx but it appears she’s the same Eilish she always is. I can’t say I’m disappointed. On the flipside, I’m rather encouraged.
“And?” I ask.
She swallows again and refuses to meet my gaze. I take the step or so that separates us and I reach out, taking her arm. She lifts her bound hands, as if thinking I’m going to untie her. I’m not. I prefer her like this, as a victim to my desires.
“Yes, I’ve fed,” she says.
I chuckle, though something in me tenses. A feeling of sharpness clutches my stomach, but I can’t explain why. I already know she’s fed. I witnessed it for myself. And I loved every minute of it. “Dragan?”
When she nods, I chuckle again. “Bloody gargoyle can’t keep away from you, no matter how hard he tries.”
“It’s because of the monster within me,” she explains as she looks at me, hoping I’ll understand. I don’t understand why she jumps to his defense. I don’t know why she bloody well bothers. Dragan has certainly proven himself not to be the man she hoped he was.
“No,” I respond. “There is no monster within you, Eilish. Dragan fucked you because he wanted you .”
She continues to stare at me and I at her and she appears to be at a loss where I’m concerned. Of course, she’s never seen this side of me before. Ordinarily, I keep to myself and I I don’t offer much in the way of conversation. Even as early as a few days ago, I was determined to quit her and the others’ company. But, now things are different and I feel energized to find I have a new purpose to uphold, whether Dragan likes it or not. Clearly, he doesn’t like it...
“Does it bother you that Dragan… had me?” she asks.
“You mean does it cause me jealousy?”
“I guess so.”
I cock my head to the side as I consider the question. “I don’t know. I don’t believe so.”
She nods but says nothing. I continue. “It bothers me that Dragan doesn’t know how to handle you, that’s what bothers me. I don’t appreciate nor do I approve of the way he’s treated you since he discovered what you are. After all, the same shadow magic that runs in his blood now runs in yours.”
She nods. “I’ve thought the same thing more times than I can count.” She chews on her lower lip as though she’s deep in thought. “It bothers Dragan that we’re in this… room together.”
“I know.”
“He’s jealous and possessive of me and yet, he hates me just as much as Cambion does.”
“For different reasons,” I say. “Both bred from fear.”
“You don’t hate me.”
I shrug. “Why would I? You and I are one and the same.”
She nods again. She’s been long aware of this fact as well. “I thought you hated me after I destroyed the Transmutation Stone .”
“Let us just say you weren’t exactly my favorite person. For perhaps a few minutes. Until I realized what the stone was doing to me. And then I was grateful to you.”
She smiles slightly and then grows silent, glancing down at the water that steams inside the tub.
“Eilish?” I say and she looks up at me, reminding me of a frightened rabbit or fox. It’s her eyes—they’re so large in her small face. “Do you want to feel me inside you?”
A blush crops up immediately on her cheeks and her eyes go even wider. She holds my gaze as she opens her mouth and then closes it again. She appears completely flummoxed. Finally, she says, “yes.”
“Then carry on.” I motion to the tub.
She appears confused for a moment or two, but then lifts her bound wrists and allows me to pull the dress down her stomach and her hips, until it pools at her feet. She steps out of it and lifts a long, slender leg over the edge of the tub and sinks it into the water.
I feel my eyes raking her nude shape. Her breasts are full, her nipples small and pink. Her waist is small but flares into broad hips and thighs. There’s no hair covering her mound, and her lips are swollen and prominent. I imagine she’s already wet for me.
She hisses as she slides her other leg into the hot bath. Then she sits down, relaxing against the back of the tub. Her eyes drift closed and she lets out a breathy moan that sounds filthy on her lips. When those beautiful eyes open, she lifts her bound hands above the smooth surface of the water. She glances down at them.
“You can’t wash yourself,” I notice.
“No,” she says and then looks up at me.
“Is that a request?”
“Yes.”
The redness around her wrists where the rope bites into her flesh shouldn’t be tantalizing, but it is. I like to think of her in pain. I like to think of her being punished, but only by my hands. I could give her that—pleasure that makes the pain exquisite.
I drop to my knees beside the tub and roll back my sleeves. Her eyes drop to my forearms and lust causes her pupils to dilate.
Perhaps taking her from Anona’s enslavement was crueler than Dragan imagined. A Succubus can find happiness fulfilling the duties of a whore. But I suspect it’s the angel within her that gives her the air of innocence that beguiles me. She watches my hands as I reach for the oils and soaps, as well as a rag beside them.
I lather the scrap of fabric with a generous amount of soap and begin to work it into her shoulders as she leans forward, allowing me to reach her lower back. The suds chase away the muck and grime that has built up over the course of our journey.
“Stand,” I order, and she finds doing so difficult with her hands bound. I don’t offer her any assistance, but I watch as she pushes off the lip of the tub and stands. Her round, wide ass is directly in my face now and I continue with my ministrations, scrubbing her backside, down to her legs.
“Turn around,” I command next, and so she does. Her mound is now at eye level. I lather the rag again and bring it up each of her legs. When I reach her abdomen, I push the fabric between her legs, rubbing it against her clit as she closes her eyes. No sound escapes her lips, though I can see the desire in her expression. I wonder if she’s afraid to alert Dragan. Probably so. I rinse the rag and lather it again, this time leaving her vagina and moving upward until I reach her breasts. I stand then and tower over her, enjoying the fact that she’s so much smaller than me.
I lather her breasts and watch her nipples bead into pebbles. Her eyes are still closed, her eyelashes fluttering against the highpoints of her flushed cheeks. She brings her roped hands forward and her fingers curl into the front of my shirt, soaking the fabric and causing it to cling to the muscles of my chest.
“Please?” she asks as she opens her eyes.
“What do you want?” I ask, my voice much thicker than I expect.
“Take it off.”
“What exists underneath isn’t attractive,” I assure her as my eyes dance back down her body. She is perfection. I am not.
“I want to see you,” she insists, keeping her eyes locked on the swatch of skin at the neck of my shirt. I remove my hands from her body and place the rag on the lip of the tub. Then, I move out of her reach. Something feral dances across her features as I peel my drenched shirt over my head. Her tongue swipes out again, and I want to chase it, to taste her mouth. I stare down the length of my torso to see the numerous scars that litter my body. The one above my heart where Variant stabbed me.
I return to the side of the tub. Her fingers brush the hideous mark, causing tingles to spread through my chest. The rag goes forgotten as I use my hands to wash her, feeling each twitch of her muscles and every shiver that racks her body. I watch her expressions as I lean closer, grazing my lips against her neck as my hand travels down her abdomen. Her mouth gapes open as her breathing becomes labored.
“Please… Revenant.”
I nod once and cup her mound. Her hips buck, but I use my free hand to hold her in place. My fangs scrape lightly at the pale column of her throat. I can taste her heartbeat against my lips. She makes light sounds as I stroke her folds, sliding a finger along the length of her opening.
Her fingers flex and strain to touch me, but I shake my head. She pleads with her eyes. When the tip of my finger brushes against her clitoris, her head tosses back, and I press my lips against hers. I swallow her moan and she pants into my mouth, tongue catching on my fangs until it rips open. Her flavor explodes on my own tongue.
Just that small taste is enough to cause me to lose control. I stand up and tear my trousers off, ripping them without a care in the world. I eclipse her with my body, pushing her against the wall, and she trembles as I slot my hips between her thighs. My engorged erection slides between her folds, stroking her weeping flesh and nudging her clit as I rut against her like a beast.
Her nails score my back. She begs me to take her, to claim her with my cock.
I deny us both.
It’s another form of hunger I need to sate at the moment. I pull her neck back and I sink my fangs into it, lapping furiously at the blood that flows into my mouth. Her taste is exactly as I knew it would be—earth shattering. I’ve never tasted blood so sweet and I’m immediately intoxicated. I feel lightheaded, dizzy even. I feel as if I’ve been poisoned by one of my own tinctures.
I pull away from her because I’m forced to. At the same moment, Eilish shatters beneath me, her moan caught in her throat. I sink my fangs into her neck again and follow her over the cliff, feeling her orgasm as though it were my own. It reverberates through me and I can feel her heart beating as though it beats inside me.
After a few moments, she opens her eyes and attempts to catch her breath. I pull my fangs away from her and suck the last of her delicious nectar from them, closing my eyes as I savor every last drop. Her taste is truly rapturous. I find words failing me.
I take a step back and stare down at her in awe of the sheer power I felt as she climaxed. It wrapped around us like a cocoon and somehow… I experienced it just as she experienced it.
No, I didn’t orgasm. I didn’t even fuck her. Proof enough is that my seed is still within my cock and my trousers are dry.
But, I felt her orgasm. It’s as though I channeled her, somehow.
I do not fully understand exactly what happened at the moment I sampled her blood, as nothing of the kind has ever happened to me before. I’m left struggling to understand.
But, in that struggle, I recognize one truth for certain: she is addictive. Far more addictive than the stone.
Far more addictive than the stone.