Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
They kneel before me. All three of them. Deimos. Bastion. Cassiel.
Something electric uncoils inside my chest. Power thrums through my veins like a live wire, thick and heady, filling me until the world narrows to the taste of it.
This is what I was made for. The truth lands inside me: they are older, sharper, remade by things I will never fully understand. And yet they kneel. For me.
Deimos moves first, the world blurring into him.
He grabs my waist and slams me flat as if the ground were the kind of answer you cannot deny.
His mouth finds mine with a claim that steals the breath from my lungs; every kiss is an edict.
He cages my wrists overhead and his weight is a sentence.
“You’re getting a little too comfortable with that power, Lustling,” he rasps, teeth ghosting down my throat.
Heat pools and lashes between my legs with a ferocity that laughs at restraint. “And?” I spit, breath hot.
“And I think you like forgetting who owns you.” His grin is a thing with edges.
I tease him, roll my hips, try to make the cage his problem. Heat pools low in my stomach as I taunt him. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
His grip tightens, a low growl reverberating in his chest. "Wrong."
“Then prove it."
He lets me dangle on the edge and the denial lights a slow, cruel hunger in me. When he pulls away it makes something in me flare. He walks off like a god who has changed his mind about mercy. “Not yet.”
Bastion’s shadow falls next, immense and immediate. Before I can brace, he hauls me onto my knees with hands that mean to possess. He does not ask. He does not wait. He knows without permission; I know without shame. His mouth finds the skin at my throat, his hands drag.
“You think you can play with us, Hellcat?” he growls, voice thick with possession. “Think you can push and pull and not pay for it?”
The heat spreads lower, between my thighs as I tilt my head up in defiance. “I don’t owe you anything.”
“Oh, but you do.” He answers with the certainty of a verdict.
Then, he flips me onto my back, his massive body covering mine.
The sound I let out is half gasp, half moan, something ragged and true.
Deimos and Cassiel watch with the stillness of predators—silent, unmoving.
Their presence presses in like a heat I can taste.
They don’t stop it. They want it this way.
Bastion pins my wrists above my head with one large hand, his other sliding down my body, gripping my thigh, spreading me wider beneath him. His lips drag along my throat, his breath hot against my skin.
“You’re soaked, Hellcat,” he murmurs, his fingers teasing, slipping between my thighs. “And I’ve barely touched you.”
Bastion grabs my hips, hauls me up against him, and thrusts inside me in one brutal stroke. I scream, my body arching, stretching to accommodate his thick length.
“Fuck, yes,” I gasp, my fingers clawing at his shoulders.
Bastion’s movements are blunt and worshipful. He takes me—not gentle, not kind, but owned—each motion a claim on the map of my skin. His voice is a low animal sound as he moves me, and then something older unfurls under us both.
A pressure slides through me, ancient and unbidden, threading into the marrow.
Bastion’s own body changes—something fierce clawing out—and in that instant, teeth find skin.
His teeth sink into my chest just above my heart.
Pain flares hot. Pleasure follows, braided tight around the hurt. A pull like a locked key snaps home.
A bond bites into place. The world tilts; the new knot of us thrums taut and permanent. I feel it as if someone has sewn our names together with molten wire. My body convulses—pleasure and shock and an animal sweetness that makes me dizzy.
He doesn’t stop there. One hand slaps my wrist and yanks it up to the place over his heart, demanding a pledge. “Bite me back,” he orders, voice raw.
For a breath the world is nothing but the metallic tang of the moment. I hesitate—then the animal inside me answers. My teeth find flesh. It’s hot and real and more intimate than any vow. He roars, a sound that shakes the stone.
Power surges between us like wildfire. Flesh and fangs, blood and breath—something ancient and irrevocable seals itself. The bond settles, heavy and beautiful and brutal. We are linked in a way that does not look for easy undoing.
When the tremors ease I sag forward, trembling. Bastion leans his forehead to mine, still holding me close; his breath is rough, his presence a steadying weight. I am exhausted in that full, used way that leaves a strange, luminous calm behind it.
I lift my eyes and find Deimos and Cassiel watching—wide-eyed, stunned, and impossibly turned on. The sight of them like that—taken, hungry, humbled—makes a wild, satisfied laugh bubble up in me. We have made something here, a crooked rite of blood and want.
Bastion’s hands stay on me, possessive, warm. The bond hums under my skin, a promise and a chain. I press my face to his shoulder and let the aftershock roll through me, letting the truth sink deep: I am owned now. I am marked. And the world is sharper for it.