Chapter 12
Twelve
Riley
The next few days come and go. I don’t talk much, responding with short answers only when Gareth tries to engage in conversation.
The living room was clean, like he said it would be, when I woke up three days ago.
Breakfast was made and he was dancing around the kitchen in his sexy chef apron.
He served me my food on the couch and we watched scary movies all day.
When they were over, I felt like one was still unfolding before my eyes every time I looked at the light pink spot on the carpet by the window.
What he’d done played in my head in full detail, and it still is.
“You still going out with your friend today?” He interrupts my thoughts.
“You never told me what you did with his car.”
“I waited until nightfall and put on his jacket, then I carried his bag out while pretending I was him leaving your house. I left the radio in the car and drove it into a busy bar parking lot.”
“They’re going to report him missing soon.” I walk into the bathroom with Gareth close on my heels, and I splash water over my face.
“Let them. They won’t find him.”
My stomach coils. “You don’t know that.”
“There isn’t much left of him. So yes, I do.” He boxes me in, rubbing his nose in my hair as I brush my teeth.
“You can’t keep doing this.”
“You’d rather me rot away? Or are you jealous I ate from someone other than you?”
I shudder, pressing harder to him instead of moving away like I should when he scrapes my shoulder with his teeth.
“That’s crazy. Why would I be jealous?”
“That’s the real question, my love.” He sucks a bruise into the side of my neck. “Why would you be?”
“It’s because I’m not.” My voice cracks and I don’t even sound convincing to myself.
Do I like it? I press my thighs together and one side stings, the sensation sending a tinge of arousal into the pit of my stomach.
The other side feels so empty. There’s no reminder he was there and I need there to be.
“You sure? If you don’t want me keeping anything from you, then you need to be honest with me too.”
My next breath is inhaled too fast through my nose, causing a burning in my throat. “I . . . I don’t know.”
“I think you do.” He rubs over the gauze on my inner thigh, and the sting travels inward causing my cock to perk up.
“It’s insane. I shouldn’t want you to—to—” I suck in way too much air again, nearly choking on it this time.
“It’s okay. You can be honest with me. You always can. It’s the only way we’ll both get what we need from each other. I was thinking about how I couldn’t wait to replace the taste of him on my tongue with a little of you.”
“I . . .” My breaths stammer. “Okay.” It’s all I can say.
I told myself that him eating other people bothered me because it was wrong, and it is, but there’s more to it, isn’t there?
There’s always more to it now. That guy was going to hurt someone else.
He probably had before me. We couldn’t let him put another innocent person in that situation.
Am I still innocent? I sat there watching .
. . not doing anything to stop what was happening in front of me while full of so much confusion and envy.
“Where do you need me, baby? Show me if it’s easier.” He leans closer, his breath smelling of mint with a hint of death hidden underneath. I gravitate to it, my mouth opening over his as he slides his tongue over mine.
I grab his hand, and I turn all the way around, leading it to my mark-free thigh, and my legs spread further apart. He smiles against my lips, and I remember crying over not having this again. It’s right here. Maybe not in the same way, but it’s no longer fully taken away from me either.
“Let’s go to bed. You’ll be more comfortable there.”
He grabs my wrist, stringing me along behind him, and I get onto the mattress first. As I’m pushing away the covers and shoving a pillow under my head, the bed dips.
He presses a kiss to my chin and then my cheek, crawling between my legs.
He licks at my cock, pumping it between his fingers, giving it the attention it needs.
I’m sick, aren’t I? Did a part of me die with my husband?
He’s not the only one who’s different. I can see that more clearly now as I push his head lower, tossing mine back and moaning as his mouth sucks my skin.
He nips at it with his teeth, looking up at me as he continues to give my thickening shaft attention.
Licking his lips, he swallows and says, “I love you.”
My heart dances, heat cascading all over me when I can feel every one of those words more than I ever have before.
They ring in my ears, along with more sucking and lapping of his tongue.
He’s so gentle right before his eyes grow violent and his teeth pinch my skin, biting down so hard my vision goes black for a while.
I come back to my world spinning and the pain zipping upward before exploding downward into an overwhelming pleasure.
I buck my hips and he digs into me more, teeth tightening around my skin.
Wet and slurping sounds fill the room. My vision blackens again, and when my eyes blink open I feel like I’m spinning while everything around me stands still.
I think about what he did yesterday, how he put someone else inside him and how I’ll be the last one he tastes now.
How it’s me swimming around in his stomach, and I’m what he’ll think of when he’s hungry again. He’ll settle for something else and feel without—feel empty—never satisfied with them for long. Because they mean nothing and I mean everything.
His eyes hold onto mine again and blood is thick on his face. “So delicious. The best damn thing in the world. The only thing I’d give anything to have. And I mean anything, pumpkin bear.”
Those baby blues soften before he goes back to feasting on me. My hips roll again and my eyes fall back into my head. His skin rubs over my skin while he ingests more of me into his mouth. He takes tiny bites, not stopping until I’m thrashing from being fully consumed by bliss.
I hiss between my teeth, my eyes unable to fully open, and my body goes still. He kisses my thigh, fingering my wound, and my cock jerks.
“I’ll go get the kit and then we—you can eat something. You’re sleeping in a lot these days. Must be your body’s way of telling you that you need it.”
“Maybe,” I retort.
“Here.” He strips out of his shirt, rolling it up and placing it on my thigh. “Hold that there until I get back.”
“Okay,” I say, feeling as light as a fucking feather and hold a finger the air above me, feeling drunk.
“Okay.” His wet lips press to my cheek, leaving traces of what he did behind when he leaves the room.
My eyes jerk to the hallway when I hear his footsteps approaching. He’s carrying a whole tray of supplies. Setting it on the nightstand, he perches himself on the bed again and lays his hand on my hand.
“Feeling okay?”
“Yeah.” I tangle my fingers in his and his lips lift into a small smirk.
“Good. Mm I love seeing my marks on you. I also love having a part of you inside me. Makes me feel closer to you. Do you feel it too? How lucky am I to get to experience and know you both inside and out?”
“Is that how you felt after eating the postman and cop too?”
His face turns sour. “No. That was eating out of obligation. When I eat from you, it’s a choice.
It’s because there’s nothing else in the world that tastes better to me.
No one else I’d rather be more connected with.
It’s like we’re becoming one and your emotions mix with mine. They’re addicting. All of you is.”
“You used to call me addicting before too.”
“I meant every word.”
“I want to believe that.”
“Then stop fighting what I’ve already proved to you on more than one occasion and believe it.”
“I want to,” I say again.
“And you’re getting there.” He rubs his fingers through mine, pressing on the dressing. “Your friends will be here in two hours. I should have waited, but I can tell you couldn’t.”
“Could you?”
“No. Not when I could see how badly you wanted it. Now you can think about me even more when you’re gone as you walk side by side with other people.”
“I always think about you.”
“Now it’ll be non-stop. Prioritized over everything else.”
“Will you think about me?”
His tongue slides along his lips. “Yes.”
“What about him?” I test.
“Who . . . wait . . . we aren’t back to Arizona again, are we?”
“Arkansas,” I correct.
“Whatever.” His hand waves and he replaces his shirt with a saline-soaked gauze.
I wince. “You have to remember a little bit.”
“I don’t. I’m telling you, he wasn’t important enough to him—to me.”
“You forgot a lot of things. That doesn’t mean anything.”
“I didn’t forget you.”
“I cast the spell, so it makes sense for you to know who I am.”
“That’s not always the case, believe it or not. He’s been thinking about you all this time too, wanting to reach you again.”
“I think I could feel him at the funeral.”
“Was he all you felt?” His eyes hold a slight golden hue from the sunlight shining through the window.
“No.”
“I think you should forget about whatever happened before. You said it yourself, he was going to choose you.”
My face stiffens. “No, I didn’t. Not out loud.”
His brows bunch together and he sanitizes his needle. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” My lips stick together, parting in a gasp when he threads the needle through my skin without warning.
“I should have numbed you first. Once again, not thinking clearly.”
“It’s fine. Where’d you hear those words? You can’t read my mind, can you?”
He quickly shakes his head, a divot appearing in his forehead as he focuses on his current task. “No. I don’t hear people’s thoughts. It was probably my own. His.”
“He said he was going to choose me?”
“Must’ve been him. Couldn’t have come from anywhere else if you never said it out loud to me. He certainly feels it and is agreeing now.”
“Yeah?” My lips tremble.