Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
LEVIATHAN
I could stay here forever.
With my eyes closed—a satisfied hum coursing through me—I snuggle deeper against Aiden’s firm chest. I flick my tongue out, catching his nipple, and I’m tempted to suck it into my mouth just to have a part of him inside me.
He came apart for me so beautifully. The sweet taste of him giving in, of yielding to me, of begging me for more—I never thought I’d enjoy it as much as I did. While the beast within me is knocking against the walls, head twitching and claws flexing, I feel settled. I can almost ignore its pained roar and the way it sniffs against the door to freedom with curious intent.
Aiden’s not asleep. He’s been awake for however long we’ve been lying here. I want nothing more than to stay here, then to slide back inside him and make a home there, but I get this uncomfortable feeling in my stomach that tells me we can’t. It’s a… discomfort that makes me dig my nails into his side and shake my head.
I get up reluctantly and smile at Aiden’s prone form. Covered in our dried blood and leaking my cum, he looks immaculate. His blue eyes flick up to mine with hesitation when I hold my hand out to him. He doesn’t immediately take it, and I growl, snatching his wrist and yanking him up.
Wrist in hand, I lead him to the bathroom and toward the shower. He’s pliable but rigid as I maneuver him into the tub. He immediately curls into himself, tucking his bent legs against his chest and wrapping his arms around his knees as if that’ll shield him from me. I turn on the faucet, checking the warmth of the water, and strip once I’m satisfied it’s the right temperature. His eyes widen and he gasps when he sees my skin, and it takes a moment to remember that my body is littered with scars. Deep jagged ones that slither up my arms. Criss-crossed marks on my stomach and chest. Neat little horizontal lines on my thighs. He sees me, but he doesn’t look afraid. There’s a curiosity hiding behind his wariness that I feed off.
I sit cross-legged beside the tub and reach for my bar of soap, lathering up my hands before I start at his shoulders. He lets out a little gasp, his body tense with nerves, and I try to soothe those away. After a moment, when he realizes I won’t hurt him… yet , he relaxes a tad.
It’s a shame to scrub his chest and watch the water turn a murky pink. If it were up to me, I’d keep him covered in me all the time. I want to, but a need I can’t place is telling me to make him clean.
“Are you okay?” I ask when I see his shaking arms, raising a brow as he tips his head down and starts to cry. “Aiden?”
He sniffles. “What kind of question is that?”
I frown, moving my hands up his chest to his neck. “You liked what we did.”
“I shouldn’t have,” he whispers brokenly, his shoulders shaking with his sobs. “You assualted me.”
I cock my head to the side. Rape . That’s… No, that doesn’t sound right. I try to think through my memories of the little television I’ve watched to find a better word. “No, we were intimate.”
“Intimate?” he snorts, raising a hand to wipe his nose. “You forced me.”
“You liked it,” I insist, growing more agitated the longer he tries to deny it. “You begged me to fuck you.” I tighten my hand around his throat, unwilling to hear the false truth he’s trying to spit. “You came .”
He wheezes, hand shooting up to wrap around my wrist. “I-I’m s-sorry.”
I wait a beat, checking how sincere he is, before I’m satisfied enough to let him go. “Don’t say things like that,” I snap, brushing my fingertips against the mark I left on his neck.
He nods, still trying to gather his bearings. “I won’t.”
I click my tongue, continuing to wash him. He keeps his eyes on me the entire time, more than likely waiting for me to snap again, but he has nothing to fear. I’m in no mood to hurt him right now, which is odd, but the pleasant little flutter in my stomach is enough to make up for any wayward thoughts I might have.
When I cup water in my hands to rinse the suds away, he swallows audibly and wets his chapped lips. “What do we do now?”
“Hmm?” I mumble distractedly, sifting my fingers through his chest hair. “What do you mean?”
“You said you were going to keep me,” he starts, voice wavering at the last two words. “What does that mean?”
Interesting question. I can’t fault him for being curious and wanting some clarity. I’ve come to realize—begrudgingly enough—that as much as Aiden is mine, he’s having trouble recognizing that. He doesn’t feel this bone-deep certainty that I do about how intertwined our souls are. It’s irritating to admit that having him fully come to terms and embrace his reality might take time.
Time that you don’t have.
I force that thought away. There’s still months before the bounties are due for sacrifice. In that time, Aiden will come to accept what destiny has plopped on our laps. When I kill him, he’ll be fearful of death, sure, but he’ll willingly hand me the knife.
“What’s your favorite thing to do?” I ask in a way of answering his question as I reach for the shampoo. “What are your interests?”
He furrows his brows, an adorable crease popping up between them. “I guess I like to knit.”
“With yarn?” I clarify, thinking back to what I saw him doing at the park that one time. “What do you make?”
“Scarfs, boots, sometimes little baskets,” he explains, looking at me curiously as I rub the shampoo into his hair. “Do you have any interests?”
“You.”
“Right,” he mumbles, and I wonder if he notices the little flush that betrays his cheeks. “Will I be able to leave this room?”
I quirk a brow. “Why would you want to? I’ll give you everything you need.”
“I need… sunlight,” he breathes, a deep exhale on the last word. “I don’t like the dark.”
That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. The dark is where I find my comfort, the shadows of the night are where I feel the most alive, and sunlight? All it does is blind the world to the truths they rather forget.
“My friends will be wondering where I am.”
“You don’t have any friends.”
He flinches at my cold words but doesn’t deny them. In my stalking, I learned a lot about Aiden. Besides that bitch Jennifer, he doesn’t interact with anyone outside his work. Which is more than fine. He doesn’t need to surround himself with superficial idiots when he has me.
He looks up, conflict written in the downturn of his lips. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything, little lamb,” I coo, leaning to press a kiss on his squeaky clean shoulder. I plug his nose with my free hand and lean him back. “Dunk.”
He dips his head back and I rinse off his hair, pulling him back up once all the suds are gone. He crosses his arms over his chest, nibbling on his bottom lip. “Did you kill Jennifer?”
I laugh because I can’t help it. Damn right, I did. “Yes.”
He sucks in a sharp breath, but he doesn’t look all too surprised. “Why?”
“Because she had you,” I tell him, running my nose up the column of his throat. “She didn’t appreciate you like I do.”
I expect him to say something to that. Maybe call me a monster and try to fight his way from my kisses, but he doesn’t. I wonder if he can feel the way his upper lip twitches, perhaps involuntarily, as he processes the information. He must be able to because, in a second, he’s trying to get out of the tub. Water sloshes around us, and I let him get out. He doesn’t try to run away but simply paces, hands latched into his wet hair as I stare up at him.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“No,” he cries, but I don’t think it’s out of grief. “No, I can’t.”
I smirk, rising to my feet. “You’re happy, aren’t you?”
He spins on his heels and snarls at me. “That’s a horrible thing to say!”
“Why is the truth so bad?” I counter, cupping his cheeks. “Do you want to know what her last words were? Do you want to hear about the way she begged for her life before I slit her throat?”
He’s full-blown panicking now, wheezing as he clutches his chest, and bends over. I run a soothing hand across his trembling back, letting him get it all out. The body does amazing things when it can’t comprehend the information given to it, and I have a feeling Aiden’s going through a transformation all on his own.
After a few minutes, he seems to calm himself down, and when he looks up, he’s smiling. But it’s not right. I know I haven’t mastered the art of smiling like I don’t want to slaughter an entire family, but this is a serial-killer smile if I’ve ever seen one.
I brush my thumb against his grin, something twisting in my bowels that’s entirely unwanted. I cock my head as I try to sift through my emotions, not being able to place why the look on his face is making me… sad.
“Can I get some clothes?” he asks after a minute, his smile dying down to a more neutral expression.
“I want you naked,” I tell him in lieu of an answer.
He shuffles from one foot to the other, covering his stomach and soft cock with his arms. “Can I please have some clothes?”
“Why do you need them?”
“I’m…” He looks down as he answers, the tips of his ears bright red. “I’m uncomfortable being naked.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Please,” he begs, awkwardly trying to conceal as much of himself as he can. “I just don’t like it.”
I tip my head at him. He whimpers when I force his arms to the side and begin to circle him. I take him in—from his plump ass to his delicate hands—and find nothing wrong. I don’t know what the plan is as I start to lay kisses on his skin. Anywhere I can reach. I kiss his freckled shoulder, darting my tongue out to taste each one. I fall to my knees and nuzzle my cheek against his stomach, enjoying the feel of his soft skin against mine.
“W-What are you doing?” he questions, trying to push my face away from his stomach. “Don’t?—”
I bite down on his stomach, sucking the skin between my teeth before it turns a dark purple from my abuse. I do this a few more times, his body growing prettier and prettier with my marks on him. He’s absolutely perfect. My exquisite little lamb. I take his soft little cock in my mouth and give him a few pulls, lapping up the salty precum as he hardens in my mouth. All the while, my hands roam greedily across every inch of his stomach.
I feel hesitant hands on my head, but they don’t push me away. They pet my hair, smoothing it back away from my face, and I flick my eyes up to see him watching me with shock and awe. I continue to caress his body as I try to milk the cum out of him. His eyes flutter shut, a choked moan escaping him when I gently scrape my teeth up his length.
“ Levi ,” he breathes, anchoring his fingers in my hair, his hands tight with the need to pull and tug.
“You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen,” I say truthfully, wondering how a man like him hasn’t fallen prey to the monsters that lurk in the shadows, hunting an innocent soul. “And I want all that perfect cum in my mouth until I choke on it.”
He whimpers in pleasure this time, drawing my face back to his cock. I suck and slurp and make a mess in my attempt to have him break apart for me. I study him the entire time, watching the shift from my scared little lamb to someone else. Someone driven by need and consumed by lust. A little peek into what I think he hides from everyone but doesn’t need to hide from me.
Because our souls were born apart but have always been meant to twine together like vines lacing a precious rose. So beautiful it hurts.
When he starts hesitantly thrusting, I drop my jaw as far as I can for him. He takes my move and fucks into me in one brutal plunge, nearly cutting off my air. I groan for more, anchoring my hands on his hips to help him take me the way he wants to. The perfect noises that leave his lips—raspy growls and low whines —make me double down on my efforts. I take him all the way to the base, inhaling deeply as my eyes roll to the back of my head and his cum spurts down my throat. He’s panting, resting all his weight on my shoulders as he tries to catch his breath. I slurp my way up his dick, darting my tongue out to catch every last drop of his cum.
It only takes a moment for him to freeze up again, and I sigh against the top of his thigh. His hands jolt away from me and he moves back, thinking he can escape what just happened.
But it happened.
My most treasured soul craved every ounce of pleasure I gave him. He let a part of himself go inside me, and he can’t take that back.
Before he can say anything or deny the connection we just shared, I stand and take his wrist again. I deposit him on the bed and rifle through my closet, tossing an old sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants at his head. He holds them in shock, eyes watering when they meet mine.
Something… sweet takes a hold of me. Something I don’t particularly care for wraps around my heart and squeezes until it’s hard to breathe. I try to ignore the feeling as it bubbles through me, only amplified when I see Aiden in my clothes.
And, for some unknown reason, some fucked up sensation of losing control that overcomes me?—
I go to the window and open the curtains.