Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
Elliot
Ican’t think. Everything in me is dialed up, higher than the last time he tied me up. It’s like that bite that changed my world changed even more than I knew.
Every touch from him is exquisite torture.
I burn.
And I hunger again, a deep, wild hunger, like the one that took me when I was reborn.
I want to struggle out of the ropes. I want to claw at him, sink in my fangs and drink. Not just blood. But essence.
Some kind of sexual energy that buzzes hot between us.
I also want to suck him off, take him deep down my throat, have him hammer in there, pushing me past all limits.
As he continues to finger me, a soothing, rolling post-orgasmic precursor to more, I want to push him.
I want to see just how far his control lasts until it cracks down the middle and opens, spilling the center of him out.
In the park, it was wild. I crave that insane side of him.
Like then, I want to break him.
Destroy his need for control.
“You’re mine.” He whispers the words.
He keeps up that steady beat in me, working the rope in precise rhythmic movements that threaten to destroy me.
“What if I don’t want to be yours?” I ask.
“You don’t have a choice.”
“You would rather me be your prisoner?”
“Doesn’t it have its perks?” he asks softly. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”
“And what do you want?” I gasp as a shiver of delight runs through me. I can’t move because the slightest lift of my hips changes the rope’s tension.
I’m greedy enough to want that beat he’s got going. I want to sing the song.
I’m crazy enough—crazy in all the ways he’s hinting at—to want to see what he’s going to do next.
“Things I shouldn’t.” He leans down, sucking on a nipple—the one he hadn’t bitten this time. He plays with the rope across it and licks a line down to soft-rough cord, biting and pulling, all the while he doesn’t stop fingering me.
And I’m falling apart. I want…I want more…
“I want you,” he whispers. “I wish things were different.”
“You want me to be human?”
“Don’t you want that, Monty?”
Bitter bile rises, burning my throat. I can see it, using Nell for her humanity, to ride it second hand, remembering what it was like.
He sees it as a gift, one he feels like he stole from me.
But when I think about it, I’m glad. At first I hated him for it, blamed him for taking my life away, but I’m starting to see that I’m better than I was. I’m a vampire, a killer, top of the world.
My entire existence, I’ve felt powerless. Now, I can do anything.
With him, I can do anything.
“No. Not anymore,” I say.
He grabs my tied hands and hauls me half up, hooking my hands to something on the wall behind the sofa, or maybe it’s the sofa itself.
But I’m forced to awkwardly kneel, thighs apart, the ropes pushing into me, against me, and everything’s tight and borderline painful.
It makes me throb, even as I raise my head to glare through the blindfold.
Taking my hair, he pulls my head back and rips the cloth from my eyes so that I can see him hovering over me, staring down at me, his face close.
“I can’t—” He stops. “I can’t lose you. I told myself I could. That I was stronger than this. I was wrong.”
His words break me, and my chest clenches. Maybe I have been looking at this all wrong. “You’re a vampire. An old one. You don’t need me.”
“For a smart woman, Monty, you’re incredibly stupid sometimes.” He kisses me hard, his tongue invading, seducing, dancing with mine, and I’m left unable to do anything more than kiss him back.
I’m melting, even though I’m on my knees, uncomfortable, wanting it to test my limits, wanting him—just wanting him.
And like he can read my mind, he breaks the kiss, stroking my jaw, opening my mouth. He dips a finger in and I clamp shut, biting. All he does is smile.
I bite harder but he just tsks at me.
“You are a feisty thing,” he says. “You always have been.”
I release his finger. “Now I just have fangs.”
“My Monty…” He leans in, tongue tracing the shape of my ear.
My entire body jerks, and he laughs.
“You’re so addicting…” He straddles me, unzipping and pulling out his thick, hard cock. “You remind me of the feral days, of being newly turned. I just… Fuck.”
He shudders and feeds me his cock, and I eagerly swallow it down, stretching my lips to accommodate.
Lucian starts to fuck me, his cock pushing deep into my throat, and he does it slow, hard, the kind of violence that’s exquisitely controlled.
Because that’s him. Controlled.
I want to break that control, break him, and I start to run my tongue as best I can along the underside of his dick as he withdraws, but he keeps it measured.
And it claws at me. I suck hard, making him groan, and he slips a little more, thrusting harder, then harder still, like he wants to use my throat as a pussy, a vessel for him to stretch and fill and use.
My entire body heats with each thrust, the ache inside me growing, the tightness of my clit almost too much, and then he shudders, pushing in hard and holding.
“Fuck. Fuck.”
He doesn’t come. Instead, he pulls out and with shaking hands he unhooks mine and flips me so my ass is out. He jerks the rope at my pussy, pulling on my body, a sharp burn I relish as his panting sings in the air.
I can feel him crack. The frantic shake to his hands, the eagerness, and then he plunges into me.
He almost collapses. “So fucking good, Monty.”
He slams into me, setting me off. I’m already there on that edge, my control nothing but thin walls of smoke and mirrors that crash and burn the moment he sinks into me.
Lucian fucks me hard, his cock stretching me, reaching deep.
There’s no control to his movements, no rhythm. It’s a wild rutting that’s more thrilling than it should be.
And everything I want.
He slams into me. His muscles tense. He trembles, a guttural sound breaking free, and I moan low, my body embracing his cum. I fly up and into one last orgasm before, tangled with him, I hit the ground.
Satiated.
At least for now.
The dress I’m wearing is silver, gorgeous, a simple sheath that shows off my curves. I pin my curls back.
The main bedroom, his bedroom, of his castle in the sky has things for me. More clothes. Makeup. Pretty, wispy lingerie that should anger me that he’d bought for me, had everything picked out by someone else for me. A few days ago it would have infuriated me, but not anymore.
Because I’ve never had such nice things.
My wardrobe outside of work-type clothing tends to jeans and hoodies, to panties of cotton and bras that do their job.
But these—
I slide another pin into my hair, admiring how the choker is perfect with this dress. Slowly I run a thumb along the smooth underside of it, the space between where it sits and my thumb tight.
It clasps at the back with what feels like a small lock. And as I pull at it with my thumb, I realize something.
I could rip it off. Unlike the one he used to control me, I could rip this one off.
But the more I consider it, but more I realize I don’t want to.
I sigh and drop my hand, pick up a tube of red lipstick and apply it, and then I sweep my lashes with mascara.
Finally, I slide my feet into silver high heels and go looking for him.
Lucian isn’t here.
But the elevator is.
The doors are open.
I stand in front of it. Staring.
Heart thudding, I step inside and press the bottom button. Nothing happens. I work my way up all the buttons until one of them lights and the doors close.
It takes me down to where the offices for VMR begin. But not his floor.
My blood’s rushing fast. Is Lucian giving me a little freedom?
If he is, I decide not to take the bait, if that’s what it is. Besides, there’s nothing for me down here. He’ll be in his office so—
I stop.
Breathe in.
The scent of bergamot floats on the air. The merest trace—and it reminds me of Kayla.
Without a thought, I spin, following the trail down hallways, pushing past workers who saunter along. Vampires. All of them. Maybe it’s just this floor, maybe it isn’t, but I smell the difference.
Not that I care. If my friend’s here, I’m finding her. The scent gets stronger as I head to a locked door.
I’m so focused I don’t notice someone near me, not until Lucian grabs my arm. “Where are you going?”
I glare at him, trying to tug free. “None of your business.”
He doesn’t release me. “This is my company,” he says. “Everything’s my business.”
“You left the elevator open as, what? A trap?” Anger drips from every word, need does too, and I fight the softness from earlier on the sofa in his bedroom, the magnetic want my body feels whenever he’s close.
“No. To show I’m beginning to trust you, and I expect the same back, Elliot.”
“I…” I stop. “What is this floor?”
“This is security, and Vittoria’s domain. There’s nothing for you here.”
He starts to pull me with him, but I fight him, digging in my heels. “No. I smelled something. Kayla’s perfume.”
“It isn’t her.”
“No one else I know wears it.”
A muscle twitches in his jaw. “She can’t be the only person in the world who wears it.”
“It’s Kayla. I know it is.”
“It isn’t.”
“How do you know!”
He closes his eyes for a moment. “Because your friend is dead.”
Fury still curls around me. Grief, too. As well as disbelief.
I sit in the limousine opposite of Lucian. I can’t think of anything else but his words, how final they were.
How long has he known?
That doesn’t matter. He knew and he never told me. He made me think there was a chance…
“You lied.”
Lucian sighs, hands on his thighs in his suit that’s the color of blood at midnight, and lifts his eyes to me. “I omitted.”
“Same thing,” I snap. Right when I was trying to trust him. “How did it happen?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.” I push the word through clenched teeth. “It does.”
“It was an accident,” he says. “She got drained. It wasn’t meant to happen.”
“By you?”
“No.”
He doesn’t need to say it because I know. But I ask anyway. “Who?”
“Vittoria.”
“Of course it was her.”