Chapter 20 Silas
SILAS
Evie thinks I don’t know what she’s been doing, but my little fox isn’t as stealthy as she believes.
I hear her stirring in the early hours each morning, and then tiptoeing past my room when she returns.
As if every fiber of my being doesn’t know when she’s nearby.
I feel everything she does, am aware of her every passing second.
Her fluttering heartbeat, the delicious spikes of fear and shame mixed with her cunt’s sweet arousal—all of it mine.
She was so beautiful coming apart on my bike.
Evie may look like a chaste angel, but I see the dark, twisted parts of my little virgin begging to be used.
To be fucked and filled so thoroughly with my cum that she’ll never be able to erase the scent of me.
She’s all I think about. Even now, with the moon high and the demons inside me at their strongest, she’s all I see.
Chest heaving, I step back, studying the angry slashes of color, thick globs of paint splitting the canvas.
A skeleton crafted of dark greens and midnight blacks wraps bony fingers around sparks of light.
Caging it. I switch brushes, turning to the palette of bronzed reds and fierce yellows, and let the paint guide me.
Each layer adds to her image, uncovering her soul trapped in the arms of mine.
But when it’s done, she’s not running away as expected—she’s gazing up at me.
The brush falls from my fingers, staining the rug beneath my feet, but I’m already down the hall, turning up the stairs. Stars shine bright, casting soft shadows across the wooden landing. And then I’m there, pushing her door open.
Cotton sheets ruffle, her perfect fucking leg peeking out as her body twists. Her mind is whirling beneath those closed lashes, her breathing coming in short bursts. I wonder if she’s dreaming of me. Because she’s been haunting every corner of my mind since the moment she showed up.
Her big brown eyes and wine-colored hair are seared into the back of my mind.
The way her skin blushes when she comes, those needy little sounds she makes when she’s close—I want to feel her clenching around me as she bounces on my cock, see the moment she realizes I own her, body and soul.
I shouldn’t still be thinking of her—shouldn’t be standing at the edge of her bed watching her sleep—but I can’t seem to get her poison out of my veins.
Evie mutters something too soft to hear. I’m moving before I can think better of it, brushing back the hair along her cheek, streaking gold paint through red strands. There’s something insidious about her. The enticing shadows she tries to keep locked away call out to me, pleading for release.
She hasn’t snitched. I murdered that fucker right in front of her, and she still let me catch her. Let me stuff her pussy with my fingers as I gripped her throat, yielding control of her life to me. Evie loves when I take her choice away—not that she’ll admit it.
But I can’t give in. Irritation pricks the back of my neck, warning me away from my latest fixation.
That night in the canyon with Mark almost cost me everything.
It was sloppy, killing him before Noctis confirmed the information.
Turns out he was telling the truth, but if he hadn’t been, years of tracking my sister down would’ve been for nothing. I could’ve lost Morana forever.
Evie is a sickness. An infection I need to eradicate. And the quickest way to do that is by fucking her out of my system. I will fuck her—hard and fast and brutal like I do all my conquests. That’s all Evie is. All she can be.
Gritting my teeth, I start to leave, but then the clouds shift and a stretch of moonlight falls across her porcelain skin.
Shallow scratches streak the white planes of her palms and thighs, still healing from our little trip.
I frown, hating how the beast inside me wants nothing more than to lick every one of her wounds clean.
I don’t like seeing my things hurt—not unless I’m the one doing the hurting—but Evie surprised me.
She fucking loved me watching her, being envied and eaten by that piece of shit on his knees before her.
All while jealously rolled off me in waves.
The fucker couldn’t even eat pussy right.
It’s not normally my thing either, giving instead of taking, but licking Evie’s sweet juices from my fingers had me craving another hit. High off one taste.
And here I am. Watching my sweet little virgin toss in her sleep, the spike of her arousal growing more potent. Peaked nipples strain against her white cotton top, and I let my gaze trail down her body, landing on a pair of matching white panties.
I should leave. I should leave. I should leave.
But another low whimper slips from her lips, and it’s my fucking name she whispers—a sleep-induced hallucination as she rolls, kicking the rest of the sheets away.
Her knees fall open, and fuck me, but I climb onto the bed, accepting the offer of Evie’s parted legs.
Slickness coats her inner thighs, and I drag my nose up the center of her.
Inhaling her sweetness, letting it fill my lungs, breathing life into my withering soul as she unconsciously rolls closer to my touch.
“What are you dreaming about?” I murmur against her thigh.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think my little fox has been touching herself.
A low chuckle escapes me, the warmth of my breath fanning over her core as I realize she hasn’t come since I denied her.
I glance up her body, imaging how beautiful her nipples would look bruised from my teeth before brushing my tongue against the flickering pulse at the junction of her thighs.
“Would you like to come, Evie?”
A low moan rumbles in her chest as she twists, grinding against my mouth.
The scent of her hits me like a primal pheromone, taking hold of my judgment and leading me down the familiar path of sin.
I hook a finger beneath her underwear, tugging the thin fabric out of the way.
Her pussy is fucking perfect, glistening with want, even in sleep.
“Fuck,” I murmur, needing to sink my proverbial fangs into her soft flesh To have my venom invading every molecule of her being until she is utterly and irrevocably changed.
The first sweep of my tongue drags a guttural moan from her parted lips. Just a taste, I think. I’ve lost too much control already, but I’m diving back in, half-crazed by the way her sleeping body responds before I can stop myself.
Her hips undulate against the lashing of my tongue as her small fingers thread through my hair, holding me in place as I work her clit.
Her thighs clench around my head, already on the precipice like the good fucking girl she is.
Unable to deny her a second time, my teeth graze her clit, a gasp falling from her lips as her body coils.
Then, I suck. Hard. Her back arches as she cries out, and I hold her there, palm on her stomach, face buried in her cunt until the last of the orgasm passes and I feel her body start to relax. Start to wake.
Doe eyes, heavy with sleep, blink down at me as the edges of her blissed-out mind try to focus, but I’m gone before she has the strength to lift her head.
I don’t allow myself to turn back as I pad down the stairs and slip into my room.
My hard cock strains, aching from the scent of her still smeared across my lips and face.
I shove my sweats down and grip the base, stroking myself in brutal jerks as I lick the edges of my mouth, imagining her riding my face.
Her perky breasts bouncing as she grinds her pussy against my tongue, using me for her pleasure.
It’s not enough.
The physical urge is only a reflection of my internal needs. And release won’t find me until I’ve satiated both. With a growl, I tug my sweats back up, the grey fabric tenting over my massive hard-on, before reaching for a fresh canvas.
My fingers graze the textured surface, still smelling like her, and I want to capture it—her.
My brush flies, color and chaos clashing as I think of her sweet taste, her smart mouth, and those needy little moans she just made for me.
She’s struggling with her faith, still wearing that silver cross, but I like the look of my fingers wrapped around her throat more.
Of her mouth parted, tongue poised, waiting and ready for me.
Paint flies, coating the easel, the rug, my chest—but I don’t stop. The picture is demanding, consuming, insisting—just like Evie.
I don’t want to think about how alive I’ve felt these past few weeks. How Evie’s presence has transformed not just me, but the world. Colors are more vibrant, sounds crisper. Touch… god, when she touches me—it’s almost enough to make me question what’s beyond this realm. This reality. This life.
My cheeks are damp with tears I don’t remember shedding. I’m not sure if it’s anger, envy, or something more sinister that has my fingers trembling, the brush falling from my grasp as I step back from the riot of texture and color.
Because as I stare at the piece before me, inhaling the heady mixture of Evie’s arousal and acrylic paint, I wonder, for the first time since that cursed night when my sister was stolen, if maybe there’s something beyond vengeance worth living for.
No. No, no. I’ve sacrificed too much. Come too far to go back now. Swallowing, I coat the edge of my brush in black, intending to hide the exorcism of my soul staring back at me.
Just as I lift the tip, my phone lights up with an image of a teal sloth.
Noctis: We’ve found him.