Chapter 11 #2
There was blood dripping down from the corner of his mouth, and he licked it as he stared at me.
"Eun," I whispered as I took a step towards him.
He didn't move, just stared at me, his entire body tensing.
It was like he couldn't see me, like I was a body, not a person.
"Eun?" I said again as I took another step towards him.
Then he was on me.
His hands were all over me, his tail twining its way up my leg. His hair arched out over us, stretching out as if it could form a cocoon around us both.
His bare hands were on my stomach, one trailing around my ribs, his claws catching at my bra, ripping the straps.
He tore through it, the fabric snapping.
I had a moment to gasp, and then his hand was on my breast, cupping it, squeezing as his face pressed into my other one, his teeth grazing my nipple, sending shivers of need through me as his other hand reached around behind my back, claws trailing blood up my spine, his touch delicate and dominating, gentle and all-consuming.
His slippery tail had found its way under the edge of my trousers and was reaching up, touching my inner thigh.
I gasped with the assault, the sudden aggression that straddled the border between violence and sensuality.
Then he was sweeping me off my feet, his hands lifting my legs to put them around his hips as he bent me back and put my shoulders down on the ground.
He was between my legs, pressed against me as his teeth closed around my throat.
I froze at the feeling of those sharp points, his hot tongue licking my jugular.
He let out a snarl that was almost like a groan, a tormented whimper.
If he bit me, I could die; he was so strong.
I wanted him, but I didn't want to die for him.
I asked for what I wanted.
"Eun," I said, unable to keep the need and fear and desire out of that single word. I angled my hips, shifting them, rubbing myself against his length, showing him what I wanted, what I needed.
His entire body trembled as a gasp whispered from his mouth, the tightness on my throat easing until he let go.
"Leija," he whispered like a prayer, his lips against my neck.
He needed me, too. I had to help him find the way back to himself. I shifted my hips, finding the hard length of him contained by his trousers, pressing it against it as I rocked my hips.
I ran my hands down his body, adrenaline allowing me to ignore my injuries as I went to reach between his legs.
I managed to free him from the confines before he snatched my hands, pulling my arms up over my head, preventing me from holding on to him or digging my fingernails in like I did last time.
He pinned them down against the floor, his grip gentle but firm.
He lifted his face up from my neck to look down at me with eyes that seemed to see me.
Confusion, heat, and need all passed between our gaze.
"Leija?" he asked, my name a question whispered, an anchor to hold onto.
I rocked my hips again, feeling the heat of him in the connection between us.
He let out a groan, but he didn't look away from my gaze, didn't let go of my wrists.
He shifted against me, repositioning himself so that the length was settled perfectly between my legs, pressing against the cloth that still protected me there.
He began to thrust, his breath coming out in short pants as the shallow pleasure was an imitation of what could be, the delicious friction a slowly building torment.
The tip of him caught against my opening, and he strained for a moment against the fabric, pushing it into my opening just a little before he shifted back, finding the room to slide against the soaked fabric.
There was more slippery wetness there than I could account for with my own biology.
He was lost in it, gazing into my eyes as I found myself rising to a peak through the rhythmic shifting of my hips rubbing against him.
I tilted my head back, exposing my throat to him as my wrists strained against his hold, and I shattered, the pleasure drowning out the pain in a staccato of need more, give me more.
Pleasure crashed over me in waves as his thrusts grew more wild and his eyes fluttered closed as he let out a low snarl, and wet heat splattered against my abdomen and chest. The smell of cookie dough wafted in the air, a strange counterpoint to the sharp smell of the blood.
He opened his eyes again and looked down at me in wonder that sparkled in the green depths.
Then his eyes flicked up to my wrists, down to my naked chest covered in his vanilla-smelling spunk, and that wonder turned to shame.
"Eun," I said, wanting to tell him that it was okay, that being dry humped and ejaculated on in a pool of my enemy's blood was simultaneously hot and fucked up, and that this had awakened a part of me I didn't know existed, a part of me that was full of a rage for life.
This moment had changed me, taking me out of my fear and elevating me into someone new, someone who had always existed inside of me that only needed a vicious predator to protect me to come to life.
He came for me, and his violence brought me to life.
I was alive because of him.
But he was letting out a little croon and inspecting the bloody strips of fabric around my forearms, and my head was spinning from the blood loss.
Then he was picking me up, one of his cuts bleeding against my shoulder as he carried me out of the room, away from those bodies.
I pressed my face against his chest, closing my eyes as I breathed in the scent of him, the smell of us together.
He was saying something, and I thought he was talking to me until I heard a voice reply from the small device he was holding in one of his hands.
He stopped by the door and waited.
He said something quietly in a reassuring tone.
We waited there, and after a little while, his communicator chirped again, and he replied to it. He rushed out of the door and carried me into the open door of a waiting vehicle. I registered that his uncle was in the vehicle, and then we were driving away.
I kept my face pressed against Eun, and he put his chin on the top of my head.
I knew that I was safe.