Chapter 32
Chapter
Thirty-Two
Lizette
T his is crazy. I follow my nose, but this part of the Hollows is waking up and people are out and about.
I can’t trail his scent, only catching whiffs, but other things bombard me.
Being out after just seeing him kill someone, after blowing him not far from the body, is insane.
Worse, if there’s a worse, I’m out in the world when these alphas think it’s best to lock me up to protect me from it. So I don’t get given to some horrible old man, or raped, or?—
Why else have I only been allowed to work on the “members only” floor? I’m sure it’s not members only, I don’t think it’s that kind of place, but no one gets in without being vetted. And I haven’t even seen their real pack house. Or mansion or whatever it is. I’ve seen a couple of places which they own or use and?—
I gasp, to the right, I catch a glimpse of Reaper. A blur of black. A scarred angel disappearing into a bar that spills loud rock into the night .
Making a beeline, I talk my way past a bored bouncer. It’s early enough that they want bodies, but I’m a girl and I’m fast learning that being female and moderately attractive is a superpower.
It’s dark inside and I look around as lights sweep the bar.
I don’t see him, but there are little pools of people and big open spaces. Dark corners in which to hide, and everyone has a drink. They’re happy hour drinks, and this must be happy hour. I peel off one of the notes in my pocket, horrified it’s a fifty, but I put it down as I order a drink. The bartender’s eyes almost pop out, but he reaches for the top shelf and shoves the whiskey at me.
Taking it, I pretend to relax, nodding in time to the music from the band on the stage. I don’t like it, the beat’s too heavy and the rest too thrashy and chaotic.
A couple of men come up but I sidestep them. I don’t even have time to tell them to go away as I search for Reaper.
I know he came in here. I know it.
I saw him.
Right?
He’s a hard man to miss. So why the hell can’t I see him now?
Eyes follow me, burning into me, and I catch his scent, the tobacco, rum and oak moss, the smoke and roses. The sex of him, dark, deadly.
But every time I turn, he isn’t there.
He’s as much of a ghost as that man I met for the second time on my date with Knight.
A helplessness comes over me, but I shake it off.
Maybe Reaper came in here and left.
Or—
I stop.
I’m being felt up. Not by touch, there’s no one near me, but everywhere the watcher looks, I can feel on my skin, and it sends my body into overload .
This time when I turn, I do it slowly. Because I know who it is.
Reaper’s leaning against the wall just behind me, a feral smile in place and my heart beats hard.
I don’t know who just caught who.
He gestures to me, an arrogant little motion that’s all gloating hunter, and I throw the contents of the drink at him, missing completely. Then I turn on my heel and run, right to the exit sign on the far side. The door’s open for smokers and I race out, almost knocking a man down but I dart around him and towards the shut gate at the end. It’s chained, but I manage to squeeze through the sizable gap, and when I turn left, racing toward the street in the alley, a strong hand grabs me.
It’s not Reaper. The man slams a hand over my mouth as I start to scream, and I kick back, trying to hurt him as I wriggle and vie for freedom.
I bite his hand. Hard.
“Cunt.” At first I think it’s Jake. He throws me down where I skitter on the ground, skinning my hands and knees. The burn races up my legs and arms. “Don’t get up.”
“Fuck you.”
But it isn’t Jake. I don’t know this man. I barely get a chance to look before he kicks me and I tumble. “No, that’s what’s going to happen to you, bitch.”
“Let me go and you can live.”
He laughs at me, but only I know that if Reaper or Dante or Knight got hold of him, my words would be a lie. They’d kill him regardless. This man touched me. Hurt me.
That’s a death sentence to them.
“You,” the man says, “hurt my friend, you cunt. Had him beaten. So guess what? Since the heavens decided to land you with me, it’s got to be you. Pretty, small, omega—” He says the last word like it’s filth. “And stinking of the Unholy Trinity. Well, I figure those heavens want me to teach you a lesson.”
I stagger up to my feet as he comes forward.
He lunges.
And topples, crumpling into a heap. Dead.
In his place is Reaper with a knife. He looks at me, and, holding my gaze, licks the blood from the blade of the knife. Then he flicks it shut and slides it away.
I stare at him. Speechless.
“Think I just won, Liz. And I’m going to collect.”
I keep staring as he approaches.
“Collect?”
“Yes,” he says.
“Me? You’re collecting me?”
Reaper tilts his head. “Who was that?”
“I don’t know.” I swallow. “H-He said I got his friend beaten up so…”
I don’t finish, but Reaper nods. “Knew the rapist then.”
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I guess.”
“Good riddance. And now, I have you.”
“What are you going to collect?”
Reaper’s eyes glint with dangerous intent. “You know.”
He stops speaking and takes my hand in an iron grip. He leads me away from the second body of the night, weaving us through the Hollows like he knows it intimately. There’s a small bar up ahead. He doesn’t say a word to the giantess guarding the door, or to anyone inside. He moves through the people and past the bar itself, through a door labeled private .
We pass an office, and he takes me up a set of stairs. At the top of the landing, he pushes open a door and drags me in, shutting it and locking it behind him.
Only then does he let me go.
“Where are we?”
“Unholy Trinity property. Time to give up the goods, Liz.”
There’s a feral, elemental note to his deep voice and it skitters over my skin, driving my senses into a frenzy .
“What goods?” I whisper.
He closes in on me with deadly, erotic intent. “Your ass.”
A thrill rides through me, followed by cold fear and I can’t move. I don’t want to.
Reaper walks up, like he has all the time in the world, and he tosses the hat down, peels off my jacket and kisses me, taking me down to the floor.
The burn in my hands and knees fade to the background as every part of me focuses on him, on what’s happening, on what he’s going to do.
His mouth is hot and hungry, tongue demanding, and I can’t help but comply to those delicious demands. Reaper pushes a hand between my thighs, and slides up to the side of my cotton panties. He keeps kissing me, mouth, chin, throat, and then along the bite. His kisses are drugs and I need more and more.
It’s not until metal slides against my skin and my panties go loose that I realize he just cut them with the same knife he used to kill the man.
I shiver.
It’s wrong to get turned on by that, yet I am. It’s so elemental.
Then I stop thinking as his fingers stroke my clit, sliding down, way down, two pushing into my pussy, the other two into my ass. He works me, thumb on my clit, fingers in me, a slow and steady pace where he stretches my hole, using fingers in my ass and pussy to move together, stroking spots through the thin membrane that separate them until I’m half mindless with pleasure and need.
He pulls out, ripping off his shirt, and his chest is revealed as a work of art in ink and scars. I want to lick and kiss all of them but he doesn’t let me near him. He is focused, hair mussed, eyelids low, as he takes me in.
His lips are swollen a little, like mine feel from those hungry, deep, pagan kisses. He looks ageless, weary, alive. And my heart throbs. How can I feel something like love for him when I feel that for Knight? It’s like different parts of love that fit together, pieces of the puzzle.
Then there’s Dante, who I lust for. But love? I don’t even know if I like him.
Reaper flips my skirt and pulls my ruined panties to the side, and then he goes down on me, licking and sucking and fingering me, plunging into both holes again. Pleasure floods me. I come. Strong waves crash and pulsate on his fingers.
He lifts his head and bites my thigh softly, then pushes me to roll to my stomach. He lifts me by the hips so my ass is high, dress around my shoulders, and as I try to rise to my hands, he pushes down on my upper back so I can’t.
I’m scared, excited. I’m spun in circles.
Reaper doesn’t speak as he strokes me and the hiss of his zipper is the only sound other than our breathing and the booming beat from the floor below.
He pushes three fingers into my pussy and then he paints my asshole with my own slick, pushing some of it into me, and then…
Oh.
My.
God.
His cock presses against my ass and he pushes, one hand on my hip to hold me steady, and as he pushes, I open, stretching. I don’t know if I can take him, he’s so big and it’s uncomfortable and strange, an invasion. Soon, he’s in. And he doesn’t stop. He keeps pushing until his balls slap my pussy.
I shudder.
He waits a beat, then he starts to move. He rocks in me, small motions that grow bigger and bigger until soon, he’s pulling almost all the way out before slamming, balls deep, inside.
He’s not gentle after that. He’s rough, animalistic. It’s an assault of the good kind because somewhere along the way, it stopped being strange and morphed into great, and then into delicious.
Soon I’m rocking back, caught in the wild rhythm, wanting more, needing more. I lay my cheek on the floor, reaching under me to touch my clit.
It’s like a switch and I explode into an orgasm that gives way to more pleasure, I rock harder against him as he grabs both hips and hammers my ass in sweeping, punishing thrusts that push me a little along the floor, it’s only his grip and strength that stop me sliding wild.
His cock is magic; it touches places I didn’t know existed, makes a deep throb start inside, and it radiates in dark, body-shaking waves.
This time when I start to come, it takes my whole body and Reaper isn’t immune. He starts to thrust with abandon, which only kicks up my enjoyment, and I burst into wild, orgasmic pleasure and he shouts, a guttural, wordless sound. I feel him come, and he keeps coming. So do I.
It’s a wild thing, something so natural I just become it. His cock expands as he comes, right at the base, and he’s knotting in me, and oh, fuck, it’s insanely good. Like with Knight, it changes things, tilts the world on its axis and I’m just coming and coming. I’m mindless, boneless, just pure pleasure.
And it doesn’t stop.
Finally, when he crashes down on me, the knot fading, he stays in me until he can pull out. When he does, I’m bereft. I want more. I need more.
And I know, no matter what happens in my life after this, my time with the Unholy Trinity, which has to be coming to an end, will remain the epoch of everything.
I roll over and I’m rewarded with something that pierces heart and soul.
His naked smile .
“Next time,” he says, stroking my cheek, “I’m taking your cunt.”
I hope there’s a next time with Reaper because I get the feeling, even if I wanted to stay, that decision is Dante’s, and he…he doesn’t like me.
At all.