Chapter 18 #3
That night, after she brushed her teeth and washed her face, she stood next to me at our big bathroom double sink, hair damp and face clean of makeup. She looked up at me, eyes clear and full of something fierce.
“Do you want me, Finn?”
The question nearly broke me. I didn’t answer with words. I gathered her up, lifted her onto the edge of the counter, and kissed her until her lips were bruised and she was breathless.
She laughed, soft and wild, as I peeled off her shirt and bared her skin. She slid her hands under my shirt, fingers tracing the lines of my back. I pulled off the rest of my clothes and carried her into the shower, turned the water hot, and let it cascade over us both.
I took my time, washing her hair with slow, careful strokes, running my hands over every inch of her. She pressed herself against me, wet and slippery, her nipples hard against my chest.
When I knelt in front of her, she tangled her hands in my hair and moaned as I licked her open, tasting her, loving the way she trembled under my tongue. It wasn’t long before she came hard, thighs clamped around my ears, her whole body shuddering.
I stood, kissed her mouth, and lifted her up to wrap her legs around my waist.
“No knot this time,” I growled, voice rough. “I need it hard and fast.”
She bit my shoulder, giggling. “Yes, Sir.”
I turned her around, pressed her hands against the shower tile, and drove into her. She gasped, clenching around me, her ass slick and perfect in my hands.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” I said, thrusting harder, faster, until I felt the pressure build and explode, both of us crying out as we came together.
When it was over, I held her there, both of us shaking, the water washing away everything except the need to be close.
I dried her off with the soft, fluffy towel, tucked her into my shirt, and carried her to bed. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow, face peaceful for the first time in weeks.
I stayed up a little longer, watching her, listening to the storm roll away.
Tomorrow would bring whatever it brought.
But tonight, my mate was safe.
The air in our bedroom was thick with that scent again.
Not Brie, not me, not even the trace of cedar from my freshly laundered t-shirt on her skin.
This was metallic—so heavy it made my gums tingle, so sharp it sliced through sleep like a razor through silk.
I tried to move, to shake it off, but my limbs were heavy, lashed down by some invisible gravity.
It was pitch black. The clock on the dresser read 2:34, its red digits bleeding into the dark.
Brie was next to me, tangled in the sheets, her body thrashing as if she were running in her sleep.
I reached for her, but my hand wouldn’t budge.
It was like being held under ice—aware, but unable to break the surface.
I forced my eyes wider. The darkness was wrong. Thicker than it should be, like tar, it dripped down the walls and pooled at the corners of the room. And then, just for a heartbeat, the black shimmered, peeled back, and I wasn’t in our bedroom anymore.
The floor was stone, cold and pitted beneath my knees. My wrists were chained, thick iron links bolted to the ground. The air was still, hot and suffocating, lit from above by a sickly yellow light that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Brie was there, naked, sweat slicking every inch of her body. She was kneeling, head bowed, hands clasped behind her back. A shadow stood in front of her—a figure I recognized at once, even before he spoke.
“Is this what you crave, little wolf?” The voice was mine, but layered with something darker, richer, more monstrous.
She whimpered, spine arching, and looked up with gold-tinged eyes. “Yes, Sir.”
He reached for her, long-fingered hands stroking her cheek. The nails were claws, black and curved, but Brie leaned into the touch as if it was a lover’s caress.
I tried to shout. I tried to break the chains, to lunge between them, but I couldn’t move. The shadow pressed closer, lips at her ear. “Good girl,” he crooned, and she shuddered, thighs pressed tight together.
A voice hissed behind me, cold and amused: “All you can do is watch.”
The shadow bent Brie forward, palming the back of her neck, and spread her knees. She moaned, not in fear, but in desperate, shivering want. He stroked between her thighs, found her already wet, and dragged two claws through her slickness.
“Look how ready you are,” he said, voice rumbling with cruel delight. “Always so ready for your Sir. Such a good, good girl.” He raised his fingers to show me the wetness there; a sick smile on his monstrous lips as he licked them clean.
Still looking at me he taunted. “I may not be able to take her from you physically, but I don’t need to do I? I can have her whenever I want her, right here. And doesn’t she taste sweet?”
She whimpered. “Please…”
He lifted her up and spun her around. He pressed his hand so that she bent; his hand flat against her ass.
He parted her with a single, brutal motion, and lined up his cock with her pussy.
It wasn’t my cock. It was huge, twisted ridged, purple-black, with veins that glowed like embers in the half-light.
She gasped, hips grinding back, hungry for it.
“You want this, don’t you, little slut?” he asked, pushing just the head in.
She nodded, drool running down her chin, eyes glazed with need. “Please, Sir. Please, I’ll be good—”
He thrust forward, splitting her wide. Brie screamed, head thrown back, but she didn’t resist—she fucking took it, the way she always did with me, and I saw her body quake with pleasure.
He started to fuck her, slow at first, then building in tempo, hips slamming against her ass with punishing force. Each time he bottomed out, she clawed at the stone, raw and feral, begging for more.
“See how she loves it?” said the voice at my ear. “See what she really is?”
I was screaming through our bond: Brie, that’s not me! Resist him!
All at once, she turned to me her eyes wide. I heard her voice: No! No! You’re not Finn! Stop!
Together we fought to get away from this nightmare.
I ground my teeth so hard I tasted blood.
The shadow leaned forward, biting her shoulder, drawing a thin line of red that beaded and ran down her back. He licked it, savoring every drop as he continued to pound into her while she moaned.
I kept calling out in my mind, using the mate bond like a flare: Brie, this isn’t real. Fight him. Please, baby, fight...
She blinked, eyes clearing for a second. “Finn?”
The shadow jerked her back, fangs bared, and for a split second his face was clear: Maltraz, demon king, eyes burning with hellfire.
“You’ll never win,” he sneered, and then everything went black.
I woke to screaming—my own and hers, so loud it rattled the windows.
Brie was thrashing in the sheets, fighting invisible hands. I grabbed her, hauled her onto my lap, cradled her as she sobbed and clawed at her own skin.
“It’s okay,” I kept saying, “you’re here, I’m here; it’s just a dream.”
But I knew it wasn’t. I knew Maltraz was in her head, using her, using us both. I knew that next time, maybe I wouldn’t be able to pull her back.
I held her until the screaming died, until her body stopped shaking, and the only sound left was the wet hitch of her breath against my chest.
When she finally fell asleep, I sat there for a long time, staring at the dark.
If that demon wanted my mate, he was going to have to go through me.
I’d kill him, even if it meant dragging us both to hell.