57. Raphael
Raphael
“GIVE ME YOUR DEEPEST, DARKEST SECRET.”
Citizen Soldier Playlist
“Found”
“Screaming in Silence”
“Devil fucking damn you, Raph!” Jude snarls while giving Briella mouth-to-mouth.
Seth is rushing back with his medical bag.
“Her heartbeat is too slow, too faint. You fucking overdid it,” he calls me out, and I don’t debate him right now.
I took her outside of herself.
Outside of that questioning mind.
I reminded her who she belongs to…even if it sends her into the abyss. And she has no choice but to return.
And she does. When Jude stabs the needle of adrenaline into her thigh, she comes to with a profound gasp, followed by a series of rasping coughs while doubling over. Some of my seed falls out of her mouth, trickling down her chin.
The others burn their gazes into me, stabbing with invisible defiance. Even Rory. It’s to be expected. Growing pains. I’ve resurrected something here that transcends our bonds, strengthening us with a gravity force mere mortals would spend thousands of years searching for.
Exhaustion consumes her. Her breath heaves and cleaves. But those pressed lips, her glare like daggers, confirm she’s ready for the final round. I am prepared for it. I haven’t predicted what she’s going to ask.
I know.
“Truth or fucking dare, Raphael,” she spits out, coughing again as Jude pulls her into his arms, trapping their hands between their chests, speaking soothing words.
But her whole body tightens, and she shakes her head, climbs off his lap, and turns.
She crawls.
She crawls to me, dragging her thoroughly-fucked body across the floor like some wild, beautiful creature rising from the bowels of hell. Clawing and scraping and fighting, her teeth bared and ready to bite.
It’s fucking addictive.
Haunting. Terrifying. Terror-inducing.
Because I should not care to this degree. All this time, I’ve masked it.
But tonight, she and the others will know.
Tonight, they will come face-to-face with the black beast inside of me.
Tonight, they will know why she has rattled our chains so powerfully—and forged them stronger than ever with her feminine fire.
I don’t help her.
Arms stoic at my sides, hands calmly stationed on the floor.
I let her come to me. Let her grip my shoulders, pull herself up, and wrap her one good leg around me before raising the other with both hands. Hissing from the pain as she coils her scarred leg around my other side.
My scar. My mark. My limp.
Finally, she stares me down, her lips a fraction above mine. Her scent, raw, feral, and feminine, intoxicates like the strongest perfume. I take in her scent. She knows by how she leans in, pressing her soft, slick breasts against my chest.
I don’t flinch. I meet her on this battlefield where we will be equals for once. Because I will strip my soul bare for her…and for my brothers.
Her hands rise.
Her claws rip the silk binding of my hair until it falls around my face and down my neck.
And like a vengeful, punishing angel, she grips my jaw, thrusts it back, and touches her teeth to my throat.
The others tense, but I brandish my fist in a warning for them not to interfere. They should know this by now.
“Truth or fucking dare, Raphael,” she whispers, scraping those sharp, pearly teeth along my skin.
Silence. It thickens like toxic vapors around us.
Because I know what she wants. Only I have the power to give it to her.
I could speak the latter, take whatever my little hellion wants for a dare.
But she’s given me her vulnerability. Again and again and again.
Time for me to give her a shard—
—and see what she does when it’s in her palm, cutting her open, bleeding the truth.
“Truth.”
She falls against me, collapsing, heaving, and holding onto me. Shivering and shuddering from utter relief.
I let her fall apart. And build herself back together again.
I won’t hold her. It’s taking too much of my strength to force down every predatory urge I have, channeling it, saving it. My cock swells and thickens, throbbing with more blood.
“Truth, Briella.” I offer her any question.
And my Queen is clever.
“I want…”
She raises herself until she’s right before me.
She touches my eyes.
Yes. I should have known she would do this. Not just words. She breaks me with her fingers like hot coals. Because eyes are windows to the soul.
“I want what’s inside here. Tell me, Raphael.” She kisses my left eye. “Show me.” Then, my right. “Give me your deepest, darkest secret.”
Her kiss is devastating. I take control before I lose it all.
Mouth hardening. Tongue burrowing. Teeth sinking in. I grip her hair, but hold her with the strength of my jaw.
“Briella,” I begin. “I must hurt you now. I will give you my trauma, my abyss. And you will take it, feed on it like it’s your last supper, and I’m the body broken, and blood shed for you. But I cannot open the scars without showing you, making you feel them, too.”
“What do you need from me?” she wonders softly, fractured, beautiful.
Gods, this girl. This goddess.
I reach beneath her and sink my fingers between the line of her ass until I touch that puckered hole.
Her eyes turn wide, her breath careening through her nose as I show her exactly what I will do.
She passed out that night of the arrow after Rory took her cunt.
She does not know how Vincent took her ass that night.
Her pained features confirm the trauma she still feels from Rory’s violence.
Then, she softens. She melts. Touches her brow to mine.
“Okay. But only like this. Face to face. Eyes to eyes. Soul to soul.” She places her palm on my chest above the pounding of my heart, but she knows better than to say ‘heart to heart’. I have none. It’s hollow as the void.
“Yes. I’ll have nothing less. Nothing,” I assure her.
I want to see every expression, every micro-expression.
I want to lick her tears and devour her cries.
She will be written in my scars tonight. And I will haunt hers forever.
“Rory,” I order without breaking my focus on her. “Get the lube.”