Chapter 27 #2
Since I was already acquainted with the reception, it was easy to get in. All I had to do was tell them his last name and flash a pretty smile.
How gullible.
I stepped down the luxurious hallways, covered in ambient light, the hallways were decorated like a small palace. It wasn’t long before I was in front of his door.
I clutched the small key in my hand, fiddling with it as I took a deep breath.
I may only be holding a key, but I had not come unarmed.
Tucked away in the dark tendrils of my hair was a hairstick; within it, a needle doused in poison.
It was my single greatest weapon against these fiends, and this time it would not fail. I knew better now.
I turned the key in the lock as quietly as possible. Slipping into the room, I latched the door subtly behind me.
The room was dark, quiet even. As my eyes adjusted, I gathered the surroundings. The curtains covered the windows, not even the streetlight snuck between the fabric. The shapes of furniture formed in my vision, and my eyes landed on the bed.
I approached, noticing the bed was untouched, no creature in sight. The sheets were still neatly pressed and tucked into the frame.
I had come too early.
I bit my lip, ready to turn back and abandon the mission altogether, but then there was a rustling outside the door, a key fitting into a lock.
The blood rushed down to the floor, draining me in my mortification.
Without thinking, I opened the closet doors and stepped inside, in time to watch the light from the hallway blaze a trail through the darkness of the room. I watched through the vertical seam of the doors as a silhouette appeared, entering the room as he tossed his jacket on the chair.
Silas’s dark figure wandered over to the small bar in the corner, pouring something for himself. He combed his fingers through his hair. He relaxed, quiet in the almost mundane scenery. It was easy to forget he was a creature at times like these. He seemed . . . dare I say, lonely.
I half expected him to keep the company of strumpets or other easily acquired entertainment, to be throwing parties and accompanying the bar until the early hours of the morning.
Instead, he was alone.
He threw his head back as he swallowed the rest of his drink, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth before placing the glass down.
He stared a minute, possibly lost in thought, before he returned toward the door out of my view.
I only knew he left because of the light of the door opening and closing.
When the door clicked shut, I opened the closet.
What was I thinking?
When I turned to exit, there he was, staring down at his timepiece as he leaned against the door, only glancing up after a few beats. Those dead eyes glared my way, subtly reflecting the light like a cat.
“Thought I smelled a rat.” Silas crossed his arms as he awaited a reply.
I stiffened, unsure what my options were or what his next move would be.
“What? Didn’t you come to play?” He laughed, but he sounded tired rather than amused. “I thought it was rare for a spider to leave its web?”
“Is it so hard to believe I wanted to see you?” I threw his own words at him.
“Touché,” he said, shaking his head, “but that’s not why you’re here.”
“Perhaps not.”
“Your hair is done up,” he commented, his eyes a bit sad, but it was too dark to tell. “For me?”
“That is up to you.”
“Tell me”—he pushed himself off the door to approach, and I stepped back—“do you think killing me will solve your problems?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think there will be another as kind as me?”
“You threatened me—”
“Someone else would simply kill you, not bother with threats.” He stepped closer.
“It would at least be fair.”
“Fair? You want me to be fair? If you prefer I act like any other with no regard to who you are, then fine! I can do that,” he growled, grabbing me by my coat collar. “Do you want to know what they would do to you?”
I swallowed hard, shoving his chest to create distance.
“You come in here to stab me in my sleep, and I’m the one you expect the worst of?” He seized me by the neck.
“Silas!” I yelped, but was swiftly cut off by the wind being knocked out of me from the force of him slamming my back into the wall.
“Don’t.” His words came out in a hiss, as he lifted me slightly in his grip.
I had to stand on the very tips of my toes to breathe. I reached up for my needle, and he leaned in to bite my wrist, making me retract quickly.
“What did you expect?” I gulped for air. “Did you think I would leap into your arms at the sight of you?”
“You were going to be in my arms either way.”
“Delusional,” I spat.
He squeezed again, and my head began growing light from the lack of air and the uncomfortable position. A wicked glint flashed in his eye as he watched.
I gasped when I went up on my toes, sinking back down into his grip when I couldn’t keep the posture.
“Is this how I must calm you every time? I feel it won’t be good for that pretty head of yours.”
“I guess . . . My head is no stranger to your . . . concussions,” I panted, squirming in discomfort.
His free hand brushed against my cheek, a soft touch that made my skin crawl, knowing who it was coming from. Before I could get too comfortable, his hand trailed from my cheek, down the front of my blouse, between my breasts, then pulled up my skirt.
I pushed out a huff of air through my nose, barely able to make any other remark.
“Alina,” he chuckled, “is this really the type of thing to get you hot and bothered? Was I too modest in the past with you? You filthy thing.” He pressed his palm flush against my pussy, supporting me only there as he was firm on my neck.
I shook my head, stretching my neck out to gasp for air before my knees buckled, and he gripped between my legs even tighter.
He rubbed gently, his fingers slicking between my labia, collecting the wetness quickly forming between.
“I’m simply torn,” he removed his hand from between my legs, forcing me back on my toes. “You’ve made such a mess I don’t know whether to fuck you or eat you.” He let out a wicked laugh. “What say you?” he asked in mock curiosity, squeezing the sides of my throat a little tighter.
“N-n . . .”
“N-no? N-next time make sure to shove a rag in that haughty mouth of yours?” He unbuckled his trousers. He pressed his hips between my legs, loosening his grip enough for me to breathe.
I gasped for air, mouth agape, desperately trying to take in as much as I could.
Then his hand pressed against the sides of my throat. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
I glared at him, held against the wall by his hips, slightly above eye level. “You lied.”
He raised his brow, patience visibly thinning.
“You said you don’t know whether to eat me or fuck me.” I glanced down before meeting his again. “It seems your mind was always made up.”
“You think you’re clever.” He shifted his hips. I could feel the tip of his cock slick between my legs.
“I’ve never been in any danger, have I?”
He squinted at me, almost a sneer.
“You’ve never killed anything powerful. You’re a dog who picks off the rats to make himself feel better about the pack leaving him beh—”
He squeezed my throat, shoving the tip inside. I yelped and dug my nails into his wrist.
“How good you are, it’s like your body remembers,” he leaned down to whisper in my ear, slowly rolling his hips. “You feel like a dream. I can feel each pump of blood your heart forces through you, calling me like a dinner bell.”
“Sick,” I managed.
“Yes, you make me violently ill, crazed and feral at just the sight of you,” he groaned, lifting my leg up on his hip, thrusting forward with an audible thud against the wall every time.
“Every godforsaken day, you are chronic. Incessant, ever present, and vicious, the way you leave me with phantom pains.”
I don’t know if it was the high or his words, but something inside me was growing hot.
I hooked my leg on his hip tightly, using the support to lift myself higher, to gasp for breath.
Once I did, he thrust again. I flinched when my hips hit the wall again.
I sank back down, his grip a little lighter, and I lifted myself again, only to be met with another rough thrust that prompted a yelp.
I sank back down, and he was still. Was he . . . only fucking me when I breathed?
I held my breath, and he held me against the wall unmoving. I could feel his chest rise and fall against mine, my heart beating faster, and my head slowly beginning to throb. Finally, I pushed myself up to breathe, and he shoved his cock so deep inside it hit the back.
“Silas!” I yelled; it almost came out as a sob.
“Say it again,” he said breathlessly, “say my name.”
“No!” I shouted at him, but he thrust again. As he pounded, my head sloped to the side. I didn’t have the energy to hold it up. He leaned down, nipping gently at my earlobe before sucking gently on my neck.
“Please,” he whispered, almost tenderly, “say it again.” He begged, his hand still on my throat, but gently squeezing the sides on and off. He didn’t want me to go just yet.
“Silas,” his name came out as a pitiful sob, and he pulled both my legs around his waist.
We stopped moving, a stalemate met by only each other’s breath, by our pulses as we were caught in each other’s grasp. Each exhale, the ghost of words we wished to say, but knew might haunt us forever.
“Don’t make me do something I’ll regret,” he whispered breathlessly.
A drunken smile played on my lips, the image of him blurring in and out. “Do you regret me, Silas Forbes?”
“Never.” He spoke low, lifting me away from the wall.
The world was spinning until I landed in the soft expanse of the bed. He flipped me on my stomach, and the world just kept spinning. I barely had time to gather myself.
He climbed over me, kissing and leaving soft bites at the back of my neck as he reached around to unbutton my blouse.
“Wait,” I mumbled, glancing back at him.