Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
priest
“ M adness!” I leave my jeans unbuckled and make my way toward her.
“What, Rabbit?” She turns around, peering up at me from below. “ What? ”
There’s fire behind the veil she holds onto, afraid that if someone lifts it, they’ll see her for who she is.
Worried that she’ll allow chaos to self-destruct.
“Go upstairs.” My mouth snaps shut.
Why the fuck do I care, and why the fuck do I keep trying to lock her away any time some shady shit is happening. As if she can’t put down men three times her size with her eyes closed.
She scoffs, returning down the path she was going.
“Luna!”
She doesn’t stop this time. I cuss under my breath, ignoring Vaden’s loud laugh from the other side.
“What are you doing?” she asks, almost colliding with me when I block her path. Good question. What the fuck am I doing, and why do I protect her any time she is around.
Her mouth flatlines. “Nope.”
She tries to sidestep away, but my hand flies out and lands on her chin, cupping the lower half of her face.
Halen’s shadow moves past us, eyes narrowed. “Watching you, dear brother.”
I flip her off with my other hand. “Fuck you.”
Luna whacks at it, but I tighten my grip and step closer into her space. From here, she’s more beautiful than I remember. I hate it.
The tension in her shoulders weakens, her defense crumbling in my hand. “We were forced to be married. Sure. But it’d be great if you didn’t parade girls around at every party—dead or?—”
Fuck it.
I swipe her up by her legs and throw her over my shoulder. “Shut the fuck up, wife , or you’ll be the next one off that cliff.”
Eyes move over us, but not one person whispers a word as I move us through the living room. They’re at least smart in that aspect.
“Priest!” Luna yelps, much like you’d imagine a chihuahua to sound. It’d be cute if she was, but she isn’t.
I need to remember that she isn’t.
We hit the top of the staircase, bypassing the art she's tried looking at so often, before shoving her through my bedroom door.
I drag her body down against mine until she’s at eye level. With my hand on her throat, I slam her against the door to close it. Her chest rises and falls, the hatred brewing deep. Time has magnified her beauty, but there’s something else. Even in rage, something more primal rocks every exchange we have.
Loosening my grip, I lower her to the floor.
“Why the fuck did you come tonight?” That something has always been a distraction, and now it's become undeniable with her in my face constantly.
Her lips part, but she pauses, unsure what to say. “I don’t know. I was with the girls.”
“Oh, is that right?” I raise my brows, my sarcasm barely noticeable. “And who invited you?”
Her gaze flicks between my face and chest, a painful tune of silence that only seems to charge the tension. Too locked in the tempestuous storm in her eyes, I don’t notice her moving until the heat of her palm sends currents of electricity over my chest. Her fingers spider over my skin, as if weaving her own web. A growl forms deep in my chest, but she must feel it anyway because she focuses back on me. The longer we’re near one another, the more dangerous we become. As if threatening to bear the wounds that all the sharp words we’ve exchanged over the years caused.
I stop her hand before it reaches the side of my neck, reminded why I’m here and who she is.
“Jesus.” Her words are soft. “What is wrong with you.”
My hand slides down the wall, bringing our bodies close until her nipples harden against my chest. Such a fucking tiny thing. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I don’t care anymor—” I force her up the door by the back of her neck until her legs dangle in the air. She doesn’t fight, but her expression lies flat and unreadable. So fucking stubborn.
The tip of my nose skims hers as I hold her up by her ass. “Remember what happened the last time we fucked, Madness?” My lips brush hers when I lean forward. The fragility of her softness is suffocating. “Relax, Madness. Did I kill you?”
“Almost.” she feeds me her words, teasing what she tasted like that night. No panic. No fear.
My cock hardens against my zipper.
I kiss the words over hers. “Almost isn’t yes.”
Her mouth parts, her tongue caressing my lower lip’s edge. I laugh softly. Where most would run, she presses closer, her body meeting mine and shattering the last of my fragile restraint. “We shouldn’t do this. People get hurt when we’re together.”
“I don’t care.” I spread her legs with my thigh and bring my other hand to her front, sliding up the smooth surface of her skin until my fingertips reach the lace of her underwear. “How many times did you fuck yourself to me?”
She gasps, and my brain turns to mud when my finger caresses the smooth skin of her pussy. “Did you think of that night? How you begged me to fuck you into death the same way you’d seen me do to others.” My hand covers her as I begin slow strokes over her clit.
Her head crashes back against the door. “Priest, please…stop. I?—”
“Stop? Why, Madness?” My index finger dips inside her mound with lazy strokes. “Is it because you’re not sure if you’ll still be the only girl who has ever fucked me and lived to tell?”
Her tongue dampens her bottom lip, and I draw her in again. Dropping careful kisses to the corner of her mouth before slipping two fingers deep inside her. The quiver of her defeat sends tremors through my body when her forehead falls against my chest with a small moan.
“So fucking easy to get you wet, Madness…” I tease into her ear. I’m only half-joking. “How many times has someone done this to you, hmmm?”
It comes out as a chuckle, and she finally lifts her head, leaning back against the door.
Her following words almost stopped me. “I want to see you lose control.”
I swipe her clit with the base of my thumb. “That’ll never happen.”
Her head tilts, casting shadows over her face. Equal in both strength and grace, the sharp curve of her jaw is a reminder of both sides that exist inside of her.
“Are you sure?”
A rush behind my ears is deafening, the violent beating of my heart murderous. She slowly lowers to her knees, her eyes staying up on mine. It’s bad enough that I broke my own rule once for her, and apparently letting her walk after fucking her that night was a mistake.
One I promised myself I’d fix if given the chance. But with her hair flowing down her back with a barely secured ribbon and her doe eyes peering up at me like this, I’m fucked.
The warmth from her hand wrapping around my cock is a reminder of the starved animal with a taste only for her. I bury my fingers in her hair. Using it as a handle, I force her face back until her lashes fan out over her cheeks. Never has a girl outwardly done anything to even so much as talk near me, yet little Luna Nox grabs my cock as if she fucking owns it. The Huntress doesn’t count. They’re barely human.
I bite down on my bottom lip when the silk of her tongue touches the base of my cock. Fighting an internal battle, I sit between the two choices. I should push her away.
I need to.
But fuck. That tongue…
My cock disappears between her pink lips, stopping when she can’t fit more. Her tongue teases the bottom of my shaft, and my hips buck forward when I feel my control slipping.
My hand finds the front of her throat, forcing her back to her feet. Locked in a silent argument, we’re both asking the same thing. This shouldn’t happen. But it’s going to…
We shouldn’t.
But it’s the why we shouldn’t bit that means we should. I’m not reckless and she’s not messy, but together we’re an apocalyptic promise to all.
Keeping her eyes fixed on mine, she swipes her thumb over my cock before lifting it to her mouth and sucking off my cum.
Using the grip on her throat, I shove her up against the door and use my other beneath her ass to lift her off the ground. She wraps her legs around my waist like a vise as her eyes roll to the back of her head.
“Hard and fucking fast, Madness. If I’m left with too much time, I’ll kill you.”
Her tits jiggle against my chest when she laughs, wine-stained cheeks. She’s fucking maniacal.
So fucking mad.
So fucking mine.
She rolls her hips, and I fumble with her belt and button of her jeans. “Take these the fuck off.”
Sliding down my body, she kicks off her jeans, and I stumble backward. Hot-pink lace with a small bow at the center, sheer enough to notice the small strip she keeps manicured and short. The urgency to have her feels primal as my blood reaches a boiling point.
“If anyone walks through that door right now.” My eyes land on hers. “They’re fucking dead.” I grab her by the throat, forcing her back into my arms, her legs wrapping around my waist as I step backward and onto the edge of my bed. Touching the curve of her spine, I glide up the arch of her back, stopping where her shoulders meet her neck.
My finger dances across the side of her neck, her body turning still, but her hips still riding over the length of my cock. The fragility of her pulse quickens against my fingers as her lips slow their movements against my jaw.
She sucks in a deep breath when her eyes land on mine before they close lazily, her lashes fanning over her cheeks. “Don’t…” she whispers, pleading. “You don’t have to.” Her lips brush mine gently as her hand slips between us, shifting her underwear to the side. She directs me between her damp slit, seizing my muscles.
“Fuck me, Rabbit—just me, okay?” Her body shudders as she swallows me inch by inch, each time only tightening the tension already between us. Leaning forward, I catch her mouth with mine, nipping at her bottom lip. She shifts, and with one final weighted drop, my fingers dig into her thighs when she buries me deep inside her warmth.
“Fuck, Madness…” I don’t recognize myself when I fall against her chest, my fingers spreading over her back to draw her closer.
She lifts her hips before gliding back down. I wait for it. For years I thought it was a one-off with her and that it was only because of the anticipation she created, but when I fucked her all those years ago, it never came. That familiar frost of isolation.
She pauses, and I search her face. “Scared?”
Her fingers needle the back of my neck, holding me in place. “Yes.” Her eyes flick between each of mine. “Because I know you.”
“Is that right?” Seconds pass when I lose myself in the depths of her eyes. With both hands gripped on her thighs, I flip her to her back.
“Priest…” The purr of my name leaving her further tugs the leashed animal buried deep inside. The one who seems particularly obsessed with her.
I lose my thoughts…
Priest.
Priest.
The snow is thick. Too thick for me to run through, but I have to get her out of here because if they see her like this, they’ll think it was me. Everyone will always blame me for anything that happens, especially when there are dead bodies. I may be young, but I know that the moment our parents see the two dead bodies in the kitchen, they’ll blame it on me.
Luna is seven years old. They’ll never think this crazy fucking bitch killed him.
I lower her down on the pillow of snow. She’s so stupid. Why the fuck am I even saving her right now? She isn’t even going to be with us when I take over as King.
Why the fuck am I saving her.
Her skin is pale against the snow, making her hair darker and her cheeks bright red. Her lips look cracked and frozen, but it’s the blood that’s spilling through the white snow that has me second-guessing. She is hurt. Somewhere. She has to be, right? She couldn’t kill him without injury, surely…if so, the Brothers of Kiznitch are weak. I could take them out myself.
I—my heart feels weird. It’s beating faster than usual, like when I’m running or lifting weights.
I should leave her here. Why am I not moving!
Fuck.
Frustration tugs at my insides, and I bury my fingers in my hair, pulling hard before my knees sink into the snow beside her. It is dark tonight. Too dark. But the snow is so fresh that it reflects off the moonlight in an ocean of powder.
I stare down at the annoying girl below. Her hair is everywhere, all over her face. I want to touch her. She’s always clung to me. Annoying and chatty. At first, I found it exhausting, but it quickly changed to counting down the months before I’d see her again. No one else likes her. But they don’t understand her. Not the way I do.
I should still leave her.
Fuck. I can’t leave her.
But she looks…dead. Heat rushes back to my cheeks, but a chill sets deep in my bones as if I’d bent over and snorted a line of snow. It clings, stuck, unrelenting.
I reach out and touch the side of her cheek. Her mouth parts, turning her head to the side as dark lashes finally separate.
“Priest?” It’s the first time I’ve heard her say my name. She never addresses me. I never thought much about it. “Shit. What did we do?”
“You—” She goes to move but winces in pain. The urgency is potent when I fly to my feet. “—ouch.” She eyes me suspiciously, a slight chuckle. “You’re an asshole.”
“I think you’re hurt somewhere. Do you remember what happened?” I try to roll her to her stomach, but she whacks my hand away, ever the stubborn little shit. Her brows knot together, and when she finally peers up at me, I know. I know that she is my exception.
I have to kill her.
“I killed someone.”
My eyes narrow on her lips, and I dampen mine to stop myself from leaning forward and doing something crazy like kissing her.
“Not just anyone. You killed someone you know.”
“No one important,” she whispers, her eyes falling to my mouth.
“How do you know that?” I ask with a curved brow. She’s like a wildfire ripping through the world. No one is prepared for her. No one but me.
“Because you’re here.”
The words hit me in the chest like a bullet.
“Priest!” Mom’s voice cuts through the hidden depth of the forest, and I whip around, covering Luna with my arms. It is both of our parents, including her two dads.
Mom looks between me and Luna before turning to Lilith.
“It would have been Priest. I am so?—”
Lilith’s head shakes from side to side. “No. It wasn’t.”
Burying my face into the side of her neck, I grind into her pussy until I hit the end of her cervix, nipping at her jaw. She is so close. So close to being there. I can continue.
Her back arches off the bed as I spread her wide with my thigh, my hand around the back of her neck to keep her in place. I kiss her. Hard. Her lips open, her tongue dancing circles around mine. Menacing, so close, so mine.
“Give me it, Madness,” I growl over her mouth, the tremor of her build rattling the caged beast inside.
I breathe in her pants, our wet bodies sliding against each other with every deep thrust. “I—” Her pending orgasm coils around my girth like barbed wire, my forehead lying against hers and a snarl teasing my lips.
Her choked moan shatters my control when her wet cunt contracts, dripping her cum down my balls as the snarl crawls over my mouth. Before I pull out, her hand flies to my chin, forcing me back to her. It shocks me, and she sees it.
“You’re mine as much as I’m yours, Rabbit.” She shifts her hips, and chills snap over my spine when her pussy slides over my cock. “And you’re not leaving until I taste you.”
Everything in the room falls away, and my jaw snaps closed. Jesus Christ, there’s more to this girl.
With her hands on my chest, she shoves me backward, and I let her, leaning on my elbows as my feet hit the ground. As she crawls off the bed, I get a firsthand look at the madness in front of me, and my lip twitches.
“Looking thoroughly fucked, Madness.”
She drops to her knees in front of me, holding my eyes as her tongue skims my balls. My hand flies into the nest of her hair when she draws it over before her lips wrap around my cock.
“Fuck. See that—” I nudge my head over my shoulder, and her eyes shift to the corner of the room where a red light flashes. “I’ll be sure to use this as porn when you’re no longer here.”
The annoyance of my words has her grip on me tighten. My laughter turns to a groan as she swallows me deep down her ribbed throat. Her tongue works a pattern that watching porn doesn’t teach, her little hands twisting the bottom of my dick that her mouth can’t touch. I jackknife deep inside, thoughts of her doing this with someone else invading every thrust. It’s animalistic the way I’d fucking rip someone apart right now. I need blood, death. To feel ice melt against my skin the same way life leaves their eyes.
Heat rushes through my balls, my breath hitching. “You’re a filthy little slut, Madness.”
“Yes.” She kisses the rim of my tip. “But only for you.”
Everything shatters around me as my fingers bite into the covers. She swallows each drop of my cum, flicking her tongue over the top before straddling my lap once more. That relenting anger is unstoppable, but I’d mastered the art of containment a long time ago, so I flip her onto her stomach and fall to my knees, my mouth covering the opening of her pussy. She’s still wet. Sweet. Needy. I bury my tongue deep inside her, feasting like a starved animal with every hungry stroke. Her hips buck against my face as I wrap my arms around her, holding her in place by her ass.
“I want you, Priest. Inside.”
Slowly standing to my feet, I drag my finger down her slit before my hand grazes the holster around her thigh. She stiffens, turning over her shoulder until her eyes land on mine.
“Priest.” It’s a warning.
My smirk widens, and the sound of her holster unclipping makes her flinch.
“Do you trust me?” It never mattered before, but for whatever reason, it did for her.
She battles with her answer, her mouth forming an O before snapping shut. Her eyes shift around the room before landing back on mine. “Yes. I do.”
“Bad idea.” My thumb is in the hole of the throwing star as I whip it out from her holster and roll her onto her back.
She squirms beneath me but wriggles down the bed. Metal against flesh, the sharp end sinks into her skin where her thigh meets her middle.
“Spell it out for me.” With every stroke, I force myself to not dig deeper. I want nothing more than to watch her body swallow the weapon in one go, to cut her open and feel every inch of her.
“M—” She doesn’t hiss, flinch, or display any sign of pain.
I continue.
“—A.” The lines are messy like graffiti, and when blood spills from the incision, I stroke myself slowly, tilting my head to the side as my thumb circles crimson over her inner thigh.
“D—” My lip curls and a soft growl escapes when her bleeding becomes rapid.
“—R.” Precum glistens over my cock. I pause, using the throwing star to collect some of the spillage.
My eyes find hers when the chill of metal meets my cock. I use it to cover me with her blood.
Her eyes widen, watching in fascination as I bring the weapon back down and continue.
“A—” I finish the letters quickly. “B. B. I. T.” Tossing the star to the side, I use my cock to spread the blood over to the opening of her pussy before burying myself back inside of her.
Her teeth catch my jaw as I drive harder, faster, the sound of our sweat and her blood slapping together in hard, broad strokes. I want it. Her. This. Her. It all.
Her orgasm comes fast, and her body shakes as her release spills over me. I drive in harder. Until her ass claps against my hips, and my fingers are buried in her wound.
Blood drips down my arms as I reach forward, painting her lips red as the muscles in my body tighten. A strangled groan leaves me breathless as I empty myself inside of her, feeling the build of both of us between the thirst of her cunt.
Sucking on her lip, my body quivers with hers on its way back down as I place a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Tell me you hate me.”
I drop my weight over her but slide to the side. When she doesn’t answer, I pull her in close. “Tell me you fucking hate me and that I’m disgusting.”
“No,” she chokes on a whisper that spreads over my chest. “But you do me, and I know why.”
As soon as her breathing levels out and her body turns limp, I roll out from beneath the covers, snatching a cigarette from my packet and lighting the end. Three deep inhales later, and I finally have the courage to see her for who she is.
Sprawled out in a mess of blood and sex, she was made for me. With her blonde hair knotted in the ribbon of her bow and blood-stained lips, she is a thing of fucking beauty. Of Madness. I don’t deserve her.
Pulling open my bedside drawer, I take out the box of first aid shit. I tear open the wipes and clean the weeping wound. Every second is a battle as death stains the only girl I’ve ever considered living for. A tug-of-war of character. What one side wants, the other wants more.
I lay a range of butterfly stitches over the wound, circling it once more with my thumb and taking another hit of nicotine.
“So close.”