Chapter 71 Love Is a Phoenix #2
I swallow, unable to pull my focus from his lips. “That’s fine,” I say, but my voice sounds strained, and I don’t know what I’m responding to. Everything feels foggy.
He steps forward, concern clear on his face as he closes the distance between us. I bite my lip, my attention again going to his jaw again and then trailing down to the top button of his collar.
He stops moving.
Glancing up, I see him searching my face. “Chaosta?” he asks, his voice quiet.
A shudder runs through me. “Mmhmm?” I mutter to him.
“Give me the sword,” he says. He holds a hand out to me. His expression and tone are stern.
Without thinking, I hand him the sword with a shaking hand, still gnawing on my lip.
“Good,” he says as he takes the sword, and I hear him set it somewhere.
Then he closes the space between us and takes my chin, tipping it up so I meet his eyes.
He gently frees my lip from between my teeth as he says, “I see you here trembling, and I want to warn you to run, but I am not a strong enough man to deal with the loss.”
I wobble, and my chest is so tight that I feel as though I can’t take another breath.
“Despite my feelings about this, you need to tell me what you want. If you want me to leave, I will walk out that door and never haunt you again.”
As his eyes search mine, I feel myself looking at him as though I’ve already lost him.
“I want you to stay, please,” I somehow manage to say.
I feel his breath brush against the skin of my cheek, and then his lips are pressed to mine, and he kisses me until I’m breathless. His tongue tangles with mine, claiming some part of me as his fingers trace a blazing trail down my spine.
Finally ending the kiss, he presses his forehead to mine for a moment. Then he takes a step away, and I hear myself whimper quietly.
“Hush, I’m right here,” he says with a self-satisfied smirk. “I saw your scars, now I’ll show you mine.”
He begins to slowly and carefully unbutton his shirt, neatly rolling down each sleeve. I take a step forward, but without glancing up, he says, “Don’t. You are going to watch while I do this.”
I stop moving with a groan, and he chuckles darkly.
Then he’s sliding his arms out of his sleeves. Because he’s Dio, he can’t just allow the shirt to fall to the floor. Instead, he folds it carefully before setting it neatly over the back of a chair. As he does, I watch his muscles bunch under all the tattoos.
When he faces me again, I can’t help myself and step forward, closing the distance. I feel him looking at my face as I stare at the tattoos and scars that cover his abdomen. Then I reach out and trace the tattooed rune I watched Malam trace all those months ago.
As I do so, he wraps his fingers around my wrist, his hand dwarfing mine.
His hold is firm but not overly tight. As he holds my hand immobile, I look up at his face.
His expression is now shielded as he says, “You saw that when you were spying, didn’t you?
” I can’t read the tone, and I tense slightly, unsure where this is going.
“Chaosta?” he asks. There's a quiet warning in his tone I don’t understand.
“Yes, I saw Malam trace it through the crack in the door,” I say, my voice quiet.
“Do you know what that rune means?” he asks gruffly.
I shake my head, suddenly worried I’ve done something I shouldn’t.
“We’ll need to talk about that later,” he says quietly. Then he looks down at my hand caught in his and closes his eyes for a moment. I see an expression of pain flash across his face.
“Fuck,” he says, “if I were a stronger man…” Then he releases my wrist and steps back away from me. His eyes are still closed, and I feel as though I’m losing him again.
Cursing myself internally and near tears, I take a step forward and put my hand in his, intertwining our fingers. “Dio?” I ask quietly.
“Hmm?” he mumbles, eyes still closed.
“Where did you go?” I ask quietly.
His eyes open, and they are dark as he stares at me.
Finally, just as I’m sure he is going to turn and leave, he seems to make a decision.
With a tight voice, he says, “The monster in me is hungry for you, and it is glorious and unbearable. I have been trying to save you from the shadows of it, but I’m clearly not virtuous enough. ”
It is clear to me that he is referring to more than just his treatment of me.
I feel a chill pebble my skin at his words, and yet I am also not a virtuous being.
I wasn’t created to be anything other than a tool, a weapon against the power of the angels.
My very existence threatens not only them but their human wards.
Dio may not be aware of it yet, but I am the villain of this story.
My voice still shakes slightly as I say, “I’ve seen those parts of you I think you’d like to cast away, I’ve also seen your strength. I don’t need a hero or someone to rescue me, I want you.”
I watch as his jaw tightens and he swallows. “You would willingly accept my darkness?”
I draw in a shaky breath before saying, “If you accept mine?”
I see something on his face change. His expression starts as acceptance and then changes to something like worship as he looks at me as though nothing else exists.
He cups my jaw as he says, “I’m not a patient man, but I’ll be patient with this.
We’ll go slow, hmm? I’d never forgive myself if I pushed you too far. ”
I nod, still unable to pull my gaze from his.
He focuses on my lips, and I feel his thumb against them. I part them, and he takes the invitation. When I open my mouth for him, he presses the pad of his thumb against my tongue, tipping my head down. I bite gently, and he groans and closes his eyes.
My teeth still gently holding his thumb, I reach out and unbutton his pants.
“Chaosta,” he warns. “We’re going slow, remember?”
“Mhmm,” I mumble around his thumb as I press my hand into his pants.
I moan as I feel how hard he is, the size of him, the heat. As I wrap my hand around his cock and run my fingers over the smooth, taut skin, he wobbles slightly, and I open my mouth, releasing his thumb.
He grabs the back of the nearby leather chair and leans against the support of it as he groans again.
I have a moment to wonder what he looks like under the pants he’s still wearing before he gasps, “I should really leave now.”
“Do you want me to stop?” I ask.
He closes his eyes and groans again as his fingers tighten against the back of the chair. “No, I don’t want you to stop, but I mean it,” he says roughly, “we should go slow.”
I continue my exploration, and he groans again, “Unless you want me to stay?”
“Yes, stay.”
“Fuck,” he growls. Then he’s reaching for me. He slides his fingers under the edge of my shirt and pulls it up. I need to let go of him to allow it. Somehow, I force the compliance of my fingers and release him as he pulls it over my head.
“If it's ever too much, just tell me to stop,” he says. His voice is quiet, entreating as he meets my eyes.
“Ok, I’ll tell you,” I say breathlessly.
This time, I have no doubt as he looks at me whether he finds me, including my scars, ugly or not.
The expression of worship on his face would have already told me how he felt, even if he didn’t immediately take a step to close the space between us and kiss the side of my neck.
His body is pressed against mine, and I reach out and explore the hard plane of his chest. My fingers find the raised ridges of muscle and the fainter feeling of scars.
He works his way to my collarbone, the heat of his breath scraping over already sensitive nerve endings. When he nips the skin there lightly, I gasp, my back arching. My knees wobble.
I’m thankful for the support as he wraps an arm around me, his hand against my lower back, further pressing me against him.
His lips and tongue work their way down past my collarbone to my breast. His tongue plays with my nipple, and I gasp again with a quiet, high sound escaping me on the exhalation. As he continues to play with the now hard bud, my skin pebbles, and I wobble again.
He lifts me up against him just as my legs give out. “Already?” he chuckles darkly, “Gods, you’re sensitive.”
I wrap my legs around his waist and realize he’s carrying me to the bedroom. I manage to gasp, “Not there.”
“Fuck,” he grumbles as he hesitates for just a moment. Then he turns us slightly, and I feel my back pressed against the wall outside Lily’s room, his hands holding my hips.
It’s my turn to kiss my way along the side of his neck. I scrape my teeth over the skin there, tasting the slight saltiness. Then I can’t help myself, and I bite gently.
As my teeth pinch his skin, he moans.
His chest heaving, he gasps, “Fuck, it’s like you’re my darkest godsdamned desires come to life.”
I feel myself grin even as I move lower and nip his collarbone lightly.
He grinds against me, and I wrap my legs more tightly around him, further increasing the contact.
Heat pools between my thighs as I feel how hard he is.
The back of my hips are pressed firmly enough against the wall that I’m sure I’ll be bruised.
I feel his fingers toying with the band of my leggings. Reluctantly, I unwrap my legs from his waist.
He slowly and hesitantly allows me to slide down and stand on my own, still pinned between him and the wall. His eyes are on mine, and his expression is full of heat.
The energy is charged as I lay my hands over his, where they still rest on my hips.