Chapter Twenty-Five
H e knows why I’m here. Why I’ve come for him…
He’s frightened.
As he should be.
Inside his bedroom is dark, but my sight sets on him immediately. Lying in his large, lavish bed, the twinkling view of a midnight city from the windows surrounding him.
New York is watching on with playful eyes and a wicked grin.
Go get him, Trevel.
He’s yours.
Movements stealth, steps light, I traipse over to his bed and climb in gently beside him. He’s tied in an instant.
Sitting astride him, I cover his body with mine, watching him languidly regain consciousness. My lips twist.
This is what I’ve been dreaming of… Seeing his face. Forcing him to look me in the eye while I take his life.
I’d like to do it all with my bare hands, but I’ve never tried before…
So we shall see.
As soon as he becomes aware of what’s happening, his eyes widen, and he croaks, “What… what the f—”
“Shhh…” I place my finger on his lips. “Hush now, Number Four. It’ll all be over soon.”
My hands circle his throat, and his subtle squirming turns to bucks beneath me. “What are you—”
“You remember my eyes… don’t you?” I growl, grip tightening. “You must. After all, you turned my face and made me look at you. While you were…”
My voice trails into a hoarse sound of pain; an aggrieved chuckle, sadistic and hollow as I dig my thumbs into his windpipe. I’m in agony inside, the deep bruising and infected wounds on my soul causing me to wince.
The rage in my veins chugs thick like hot tar, putting me into a trance.
He’s really freaking out beneath me, but the sounds are echoing.
My vision tunnels, and I think I’m crying.
All I can hear is my heart knocking throughout my body, as if my pulse is synching with his.
It’s pounding in my hands, pleading for a reprieve.
But I will not stop, no matter how much it hurts.
“You’re giving me your last breath,” I snarl, sputtering and whimpering above him. “It’s the least you could do after all you’ve taken from me!”
“S-stop… p-please…” he croaks.
I can’t recognize his voice.
I don’t know why… he sounds… different.
Soft.
Helpless.
Innocent.
He’s not innocent. He fucking ruined me!
They all did! They turned me into something I never wanted to be… Something I’ve been running from my whole bloody life!
“Trev… Trevel…” The hoarse voice is suddenly familiar. “You’re… h-hurting me…”
Despite knowing where I am and what I’m doing, certainty is melting away. Reality is falling, like the tears tumbling down my cheeks.
Manhattan, the penthouse, the soft linens… They’re fading into something else. And the body between my legs is no longer that of a pathetic rapist in his thirties with a beer-belly and a stupid fucking shamrock tattoo…
It’s one much stronger, wider and firmer. Smooth skin beneath my fingers that my lips remember kissing and sucking.
The feel of it brings me back fast. In a few flutters of my lashes, I’m awake , and I can see …
Byron.
Oh, fuck, Byron.
“Fucking hell Jesus Christ,” I rush out, ragged and dripping with regret as I immediately release his throat.
I see the dragon tattoo. And the hickeys I left on him yesterday in the showers.
Oh God, what have I done?!
“Vi-violet…” he coughs out in between hauling deep breaths, his bare chest jumping.
Fuck me, my sweet fury…
What the hell is wrong with me??
Blinking and blinking, I claw back from the pit of my nightmares. My hands run tenderly down to his chest, tracing more purple marks from my mouth.
“I’m… s-sorry,” I stutter, choking back sobs the way he’s choking for oxygen. “Baby, I’m… I didn’t mean to…”
Collapsing on top of him, I tremble with guilt and residual fear. I’m in his bed, in prison. Starchy fabrics on a stiff mattress give me such an intense wave of relief and comfort, I can’t hold back my cries.
I’m not there… I’m here.
With Byron. My sweet, furious warrior… My Raphael.
“It’s okay…” he rasps, his voice even sexier after me nearly choking him to death. “You’re okay.”
His hands run up my thighs, brushing a pacifying touch over my ass and onto my hips as he clutches me to him. The feeling registers between my legs—where his hard body is resting—bringing attention to the stiffness trying to burst out of my skimpy knickers.
Sniffling, I graze my lips over his clavicle. “Byron… Fuck , why didn’t you stop me?? Jesus… ”
He’s clearly stronger than me. And unlike the sadistic wanker from my memories, his hands were not bound in the slightest. He was barely trying to fight me off…
Byron’s throat bobs. “Um…”
It’s then that I notice it. My erection… It’s not alone.
Shifting my hips, I hiss when I feel him, thick and throbbing against me.
He whimpers, and I lift my head to lock our eyes.
Of course, it’s dark in the room, with nothing but a dimmed light coming from out in the row.
But I can still make out his flushed cheeks.
I’m sure it’s partially from how hard I’d been choking him, though the timidity in his deep eyes tells me there’s more.
I hum over his lips. “You’re… so hard , love.”
He nods sheepishly.
“Am I still dreaming?”
He shakes his head, so adorably my heart is softening to mush. Rocking my hips, I give him a slow, decadent caress of my cock along his, our solid inches of arousal rutting together. The sound that escapes his plush lips sets my loins on fire.
“I don’t know…” He digs his fingers into my ass, lifting his hips and opening his legs. “ Why . I don’t know why I let you…” His eyes close and he bites his lip. “Why I… liked it.”
“I do. You’ve told me before…” My fingers rake through his silky hair. Grabbing a fistful, I tug it hard, and he whines. “Because you like the feeling, the hurt , whether you win or lose the fight.”
“N-no, I—”
“You don’t need to hide from me, Byron,” I whisper, brushing his quivering lips with mine. “Remember? I see you, baby…”
“You do,” he says on a breath, as if maybe it was supposed to be a question, but it’s not. And I’m glad it’s not.
I need him to understand that I think he’s perfect. That no matter the arcane inside of him, he can show it to me. Open wide, split himself down the middle and spill it all out, for me . Because I think it’s beautiful, his despair, his depravity, his darkness .
I love the Shadowman.
“I like it too,” I assure him with my tone and my ravenous movements.
“Yea?” His head slants to give me his neck.
I kiss his tattoo, sensually running my teeth over it. God, he smells so bloody delicious… Like masculine dominance wrapped in eager, trembling flesh.
“Uh-huh.” I lick him, and he groans. “I like to be the hunter, and the prey.”
I’m about to go for his lips, because I’ve had enough of this nonsense.
I think he knows that we’re more than just empty sex, our connection deeper than where our bodies can reach.
It doesn’t matter if we know it’ll end in disaster; I’m desperate to be the one he kisses out in the open.
Because he’s mine . Nobody will tend to his needs the way that I can.
But he pulls away from it before I get there, glancing up at me. “Are you sure?” There’s something sparkling in his eyes, like inquisitive doubt. “You’re sure you like it… rough?”
“Yes, baby.” I grind into him. “It feels good… being used.” By you.
“I know, but it seems like—”
“No more thinking, Byron.” I get the sense that he’s becoming bogged down by his thoughts. Fixating on something serious that I can’t get into—like the reason I was just choking him in my sleep. So I distract him the best way I know how. “Turn your brain off for me, baby…”
I make my request while kissing down his throat, then his chest. I’d love to make a pit-stop at his nipples and suck on them until his dick is leaking like the last time. But I force myself to avoid the detour, licking through the immaculate lines and swells of his abs and his pelvis.
“Umm…” he purrs when I run my lips along the shape of him through his boxers. Tugging them down, I free his thick cock, and he sighs, “Mmmkay…”
I grin. “Good boy.”
And then I slide my mouth over him.
Byron’s head tips back and he melts, fingertips on my face. “ Oh fuck … Mmm, baby …”
Sucking deeper, slow and wet, I lose all semblance of who I am. The brokenness that lives inside of me, the anguish of the past, the uncertainty of the future. He makes it all seem so far away…
I forget it all and just worship this big, beautiful cock with my mouth. Writing poems in my brain about the sounds of his bated breaths and the treasuring sifts of his fingers through my hair.
I’m falling, even faster and twice as hard as the last time, and it is terrifying. Because I don’t think I would survive losing him too.
I’ve already hurt him… But I can’t make myself stop.
How can I keep him while still protecting him from my destruction? There has to be a way…
Giving him this slow, lush head is almost like an apology for hurting him the way I did. Sure, he may want his body to be used. But that’s not the same as what will undoubtedly happen if I keep poisoning him with my curse.
“Uhh… Trev. God , baby, suck my dick…” he mewls, arching to me and spreading his legs.
I suck off of him with a pop, holding his ass in my hands to lift his hips higher. “How I would love to slide inside you right now…” I rumble mindlessly while nuzzling his balls, sucking at them almost viciously.
He shudders. “Mmff… maybe you should.”
Glancing up from between his legs, I watch him biting his lip as his eyelids droop.
“I’d probably come so fast…”
“Is that so, warrior boy?” I lick lines up and down his shaft. He nods. “You want me in your hole again? Filling your hot body with dick until you can’t help but—”
“ Fffuck , Trevel, put me back in your mouth,” he whines, grabbing me by my hair. “I’m gonna fucking bust, baby.”