Chapter 7 #2
He’s a monster, unlike I have ever seen him. Worse than when he first ripped Santiago from me. It’s as if he doesn’t know whether to kill me or fuck me in that moment. And my breath stutters as fear and lust collide inside me.
“Lu—” His name dies on my tongue as Lucian’s full weight lands on top of me.
“I can’t leave you alone for one fucking second, Elliot,” he says, fury rippling out of him as his body grinds me into the dirt. “Not one second.”
The words hit harder than the impact.
This asshole wants to talk about trust?
The irony is bitter enough to make me want to laugh. He’s the one who kept the truth about Santiago from me. Not to mention everything about his life and VMR. He may not lie outright, but he omits the truth and that’s just as bad.
I shove all my power into bucking him off, and to my surprise it works. He’s thrown sideways, landing on his knees beside me.
I barely get my footing before he’s on me again.
He moves like a force of nature—too fast, too strong—and grabs me and slams me into the ground hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.
Pain blooms bright and sharp, but it only feeds the fury boiling in my veins.
I claw at him, strike wherever I can reach, nails scraping skin, fists landing uselessly against his chest.
He throws me aside like I weigh nothing.
I roll, scramble, lunge again, and he catches me mid-motion, spinning and hurling me into a nearby bush. Wood splinters and pokes into my sides. Fabric rips as my dress is caught on the bush’s sharp branches.
“You bastard!” I stand again, feeling blood start to trickle from the deep scratches across my waist. Because the shimmery drape of my dress has been torn almost all the way through, my right breast and most of my torso are now exposed.
Pain and rage tangle together until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. I’m going to kill him.
He stalks toward me, eyes wild, jaw tight, every inch of him vibrating like he’s barely holding himself back.
“You talk about trust,” I spit, forcing myself upright, “but you’ve been keeping things from me since I first walked into your office.”
That stops him.
Not because he’s surprised. Because it infuriates him. “I’ve never lied.”
“Omission is lying in a different form,” I growl. “About Santiago being your brother. About Kayla—”
He’s on me in a heartbeat, grabbing my throat—not squeezing hard—but holding me there and lifting me just enough that my toes scrape the ground. His face is inches from mine, pupils blown wide, breath harsh against my mouth.
Desire coils tight inside me. I can’t stop it.
His aggression drags me back to the night he pinned me against the tree, all force and heat and barely restrained hunger.
I crave that again, the edge of pain, the way it burned through me.
But even then, he’d been holding back. Now, like this, feral and unraveling, I want what he’s refusing to give.
I want him to stop restraining himself at all.
“You don’t get to demand anything from me,” he says. “Not when you don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”
“I understand enough,” I snarl back, even as my body betrays me, leaning into the heat of him, into the violence. “Enough to know that Santiago wants me to join him at Sanguine. He sees my potential, and he’d never stop me from hunting. He wouldn’t force me to eat fucking protein bars.”
I forcefully kick my leg out.
He drops me in shock, and I hit the ground hard. When I look up, my stomach twists. My spike heel has punctured his chest; it’s embedded in his flesh, his shirt already darkening with blood.
Oh shit.
I’ve gone too far.
I scramble to my feet, hopping on one bare foot as Lucian reaches down, grips the shoe, and rips it free like it’s nothing. He tosses it aside, blood streaking his fingers.
Panic crashes into me. “Lucian, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
The slap comes fast and sharp.
Not enough to knock me down, but enough to snap my head to the side, enough to leave my skin burning where his hand struck. The sound of it cracks through the air.
For a moment, everything goes silent.
Lucian’s chest heaves, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscles jump. Whatever restraint he had left is gone.
“Don’t,” he snarls, voice shaking with something ugly and barely contained, “ever do that again.”
My cheek throbs. My pulse screams. But my regret quickly flips into untamed fury again. And this time I’m not holding back.
I hate him.
Gathering my strength, I clench my fist and lash out. The punch connects with Lucian’s face. His head is thrown back, and he’s forced back a few steps, holding his jaw and blinking rapidly.
“Fuck you, Lucy,” I rasp.
When he peers up at me again, a bruise of the darkest purple starts to bloom across his chin, just under his mouth.
Something inside him snaps.
I don’t see him move. Everything happens too fast to track. The air seems to warp around him, and suddenly I’m not upright anymore.
My stomach hits the hard ground with a dull thud, and all I can do is gasp.
Lucian is over me, every inch of his heavy body pressing into my back and ass. And his erection is there, hard and huge, poking against me to let me know his intentions. His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back, baring my throat. The charged moment stretches. I think he might bite me.
I think I might beg him to.
His head lowers to my ear. “Santiago isn’t my brother. We share a master, and unfortunately a past. But that’s it,” he says, voice rough with restraint. “And I told you a million times I don’t know where your friend is.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care that you don’t. But know this, you aren’t allowed to even talk to Santiago. Do you understand?”
I’m shaking. My pussy—the traitorous bitch—clenches with anticipation. “You don’t get to decide that.”
I throw my head back, and it collides with his.
“Fuck, Monty.” He growls, but instead of his grip loosening, his fingers tighten, lighting a fire over my scalp.
With the one hand still in my hair, he grabs my leg with the other and forces it out so he can settle between my thighs. My dress rips even more to expose all of me, and I’m not wearing any underwear.
“Get off me,” I manage to get out, but it’s only half-hearted. Because I’m throbbing—not just my clit but every part of me—and I know I’m wet. I can feel it on my thighs as the breeze turns my juices there sticky.
His weight lifts suddenly, as with the hold on my head, but when I try to push up, his arm comes down to shove me back down.
“Don’t fucking move.”
Lucian goes to his knees, and he pulls me up by the thighs, diving down between them. His tongue is on my clit, sliding through my lips, and electricity shoots through me as thunder rumbles above.
He runs his fangs over the sensitive flesh, and I whimper, arching up.
Hate him? Hell, I hate myself.
His tongue pushes into me, licking up as his fingers join, sliding in, stretching and rubbing on my G-spot in a torturous rhythm.
And then he sucks hard on my clit.
An orgasm rises up from nowhere and hits me hard, making me spasm and contract. I don’t want it to end.
The only thing that would make this better would be his blood in my mouth, that extra level of euphoria. But he pulls away, and before I can plant my palms on the ground, his cock shoves into my pussy, slamming all the way home.
I scream.
“Lucian!”
“You wanted the monster, Monty,” he says, using his grasp on my hips to tilt my pelvis and push even farther in. Pain explodes, quickly followed by waves of indescribable pleasure. “I’ll fucking give you the monster.”
Then he fucks me without mercy, making me almost eat a mouthful of dirt with his hammering thrusts. In this position, ass high, I’m his to do with as he wishes, his to take, to own, to destroy.
Each time he pulls almost out and then punches back in with his cock, the jarring motion makes me drool, makes me ripple and contract in mini orgasms. The hurt is good, so good. It’s perfection, and I just despise him more.
He took everything from me, including my life.
And now…
Now he’s taking the rest, making me a fool, claiming me as his in every sense of the word.
I want him to devour me. I want his fangs deep in my veins.
Sex with Lucian has always been good, but this…this is another level.
I rub on the ground as he slams into me. All I can do is push back, show him with my body that I want more. I want everything he has to give.
His balls slap me, and I’m so full, so stretched as his cock beats inside me. Black dots dance before my eyes, and for a second I’m afraid I might pass out. Can someone die from too much pleasure? Because I think I might be close.
My pussy is wracked with pulsating throbs as he leans forward and slides an arm around my middle, like he’s trying to get even farther into me. The strong scent of his blood fills my nose, and I’m so close to coming again that everything is tingling. So close—
He drags my head up and twists it to the side. Then he sinks his fangs deep into my throat.
It’s orgasmic, like nothing else. Deep, wild waves of insane pleasure overtake me, and I cry out.
My voice echoes all around him, and I can feel his growl vibrate against my neck as he sucks and sucks.
It intensifies the orgasm, and I think my entire body’s going to come apart when he rips his mouth away and drops me back into the dirt, pulling his cock out.
I struggle, trying to turn, when he flips me onto my back and plunges into me again without warning or mercy.
Warm blood coats my neck and shoulder, and when I peer up at him, I see that his lips are painted crimson from the bite and the blood he took from me. His shocking blue eyes bore into mine, never wavering.
The storm above crackles like the madness inside me, and for a moment there’s nothing but the collision of us and the unnatural chaos we make together.