Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
She stabbed me. She actually stabbed me. I should be furious. I should be tearing her throat out and dragging her back to the slab where she belongs. Instead, I’m hard—aching, hungry, so turned on I can taste the blood in my mouth.
“My Lustling,” I growl. My hands find her hips and in one smooth movement I flip her onto her back. She gasps, but it isn’t fear that burns in her eyes. It’s fire. Her face is flushed, lips parted, hair a wild halo against the candlelight. She should look broken. She looks radiant.
“Did you like that?” she snarls up at me, breathless. “Being stabbed?”
A low laugh rumbles out of me. I drag the knife from my ribs and hold it up to the dim light. Blood streaks the blade in a dark, glistening line. I lick it slowly, savoring the taste. “I’ve had worse.”
She thrashes beneath me, stronger now, her movements fueled by a power she hasn’t yet learned to control. It’s sloppy, untrained, but she’s waking up. Her hunger is turning her limbs liquid. I toss the knife aside. Her eyes track the motion—fascinated, confused, aroused—and then it hits.
The pull.
The tether slams into me like a blow to the chest. Fire coils through my ribs and drags itself along my spine.
Her soul inside mine, scratching, marking.
It hurts—like claws raking down my back from the inside out.
My whole body jerks as the bond wraps tight around me, invisible and unrelenting. A brand I never asked for. Permanent.
No. No fucking way.
I roll off her as if I’ve been burned, stumbling back, breath ragged. Nausea roils in my gut, not from pain but from the need clawing up my throat. From the realization that I already can’t live without her. And I hate it. I fucking hate it.
She blinks up at me, rising slowly to her knees. Her eyes narrow. “I stabbed you. Why didn’t it do anything?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. I’m too busy realizing what I’ve done.
She stands, naked and defiant, shoulders squared as though she’s challenging me. “Why am I still alive?” she whispers. Her voice cracks at the end. Her arms tremble. Her pupils flicker. She’s splintering—panic cracking through the hunger that’s taking her over.
“I should hate you,” she says. “I do hate you. But why the fuck do I also want you to fuck me again?”
Her breath comes shallow, her hands curling at her sides. She looks down at her own body like it isn’t hers anymore. Like something inside her is taking over. Like she’s already lost.
The door slams open. Bastion. Cassiel. Of course. Drawn by the noise, or maybe by the raw, pulsing hunger radiating off the girl in front of me—the one who’s not quite a girl anymore.
Her eyes flick toward them like a predator scenting blood. She stalks toward Bastion first, her hand brushing the thick curve of his chest, her fingers tracing the ink etched into his skin. His breath hitches. He lets her touch him, golden eyes flashing with something primal.
I snap. “We’re bonded.”
The words rip from my throat like a curse. Cassiel’s head whips toward me. His eyes widen. Bastion’s amusement falters.
Lillien turns slowly, brows furrowing. “What does that mean?”
Cassiel doesn’t answer her. His voice cuts at me instead. “How?”
“I don’t fucking know,” I snarl. “Maybe the orgasm… at the peak of death. Maybe when our blood mixed. Maybe because I was touching her when I killed her.”
Her face shifts—confusion, horror, desire, all tangled. “You killed me,” she whispers as if she only just now remembered.
Bastion snorts. “You needed it.”
She turns on him sharply, but I see it now—the tremble in her limbs, the sheen of sweat on her flushed skin, her pupils blown wide. She’s starving. Even Cassiel feels it; I catch the twitch of his hand, the flicker of pain behind his stoic expression, his lips moving silently like a prayer.
I watch the last flicker of the divine die in Cassiel’s eyes. He still clings to the light, poor bastard, but even he can’t pretend he doesn’t want her.
“I’m not supposed to feed,” she breathes. The words are so soft I almost miss them.
“What did you say?” My voice is harsh.
She backs up, her gaze flicking between us—one demon, two, three—and for the first time she looks afraid. Not of us. Of herself.
Cassiel steps forward, holding out a shirt. Of course it’s him. Always trying to be the merciful one.
She snatches it, clutching it to her chest like armor, pressing the fabric to her skin as if it can keep her from devouring everything in sight, as if it will hold her soul in place.
I’m done being patient.
“You just woke up,” I snap. “You need to feed.”
She shakes her head, but her thighs rub together, betraying her. She’s soaked. Starving. Addicted. And she doesn’t even know it yet.
I rip the shirt from her hands and grab her by the waist. “You can, and you will,” I growl, dragging her back to the bed.
She twists in my grip, snarling, but she’s not strong enough yet. “I’m not letting a freshly awakened succubus wander out into the world without feeding first.”
“I’m not a succubus,” she hisses, voice breaking.
The word leaves her mouth like a curse, but I make it worse. I make it final. “You are,” I sneer. “You’re a fucking succubus.”
Cassiel flinches, just slightly. But I see it.
I don’t answer her further. I flip her over and slam her onto the mattress. She gasps, wide-eyed, writhing beneath me. “What are you doing—”
Bastion moves fast. He’s already at her side, pinning her wrists to the mattress. She jerks once, twice, then stops. Because the moment I sink my cock into her—her body knows.
She moans. Deep, wrecked, helpless.
I slam into her again, and she meets me halfway. The hunger finally wins.
“That’s it,” I mutter, locking eyes with Bastion. “Feed her what she needs.”
He chuckles, stepping in front of her, pulling his cock from his pants. She doesn’t resist as he grabs her hair and guides her mouth to him.
Cassiel stands in the doorway, watching, torn between disgust and desire. His hands curl into fists. He doesn’t stop us. He can’t. Because we’ve already broken her. Or maybe we’ve freed her.
She sucks Bastion down like she was made for it, her moans vibrating through her throat, echoing down his cock. And underneath it all—I feel it. The bond. Stronger now. Pulsing between us. Alive.
Lust. Power. Need.
She’s ours now. Branded. Claimed. Stolen. And nothing—not even the God she once believed in—is going to take her from us.