Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
The gun is heavy in my shaking grip. I remember Cain’s plea, months ago, and the promise I made: that I’d kill him myself, if it came to this. I remember his belief that I was meant for this, all along.
The gun. The bullet. The fact that I was spared, again, from certain death. I feel the terrible certainty of fate, tugging my strings.
The air is thick with the stench of blood and smoke and sulfur. The sky is unnaturally black above us, and the ground trembles beneath. It is like the whole world is being split apart. The promise of something terrible is on the horizon, so close I can taste it on the back of my tongue.
And the horrific scene all around me is dyed crimson by the blood-red sun above. The day of reckoning has come, but none of the Children are alive to see it. There’s only me and their Harbinger. The monster they made of Cain.
I raise the barrel of the gun toward the beast prowling toward me.
Search his red eyes for any sign of the man that I fell for, the man who kissed me with such need last night.
But his expression is blank with rage and hatred, and when he opens his mouth to scream his anger, I don’t recognize his voice.
“Cain,” I whisper.
He steps over bodies of cultists without noticing them. Drool drips from his long fangs, blood-soaked claws digging into the earth as he prowls toward me on all fours. There is nothing but slavering madness in his expression as he approaches.
Instinct tells me to run, but I ignore it. Never run in front of a predator. Never turn your back to a threat. Advice I followed the first time I came face to face with a monster, and now it pops into my head again.
“Cain,” I say, louder, my voice shaking. “Tell me you’re still in there. Please, give me a sign you can hear me.”
There is a terrible nothingness in his many eyes as they all fix upon me. He towers over me, even on all fours, dark wings spread to blot out the sun. He reaches toward me with a clawed and bloody hand big enough to wrap around my waist, his stretched-wide jaw baring his teeth.
I aim the barrel directly between his eyes. My finger tightens on the trigger—but I can’t. I can’t do it.
“Cain, stop it!” I scream at him, angry instead of afraid, furious tears filling my eyes. It can’t end like this. I won’t allow it.
His hand pauses midair. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, and his head tilts in a way that I almost recognize.
I pause, breath shuddering in my lungs. “Can you hear me?” I ask, desperation in my tone. “Are you in there?”
He shakes off the brief moment of clarity.
His hand closes around my waist and he lifts me effortlessly off the ground, dragging me closer to him.
I yelp in shock, the gun clattering from my numb fingers.
I scrabble at his huge hand instead. He drags me closer, his jaw clicking as it opens inhumanly wide.
He’s going to fucking eat me.
The horror of it all makes me want to panic and scream and beg for my life. Instead, I shout again, “Stop it!”
The beast pauses, holding me tight just a foot from his open, drooling maw. Again he studies me like I’ve done something unexpected, something that catches his attention even in this monstrous fervor. Breathing hard, I scramble to figure out what it is.
He didn’t respond to my pleading. It wasn’t his name. But he responded to…
“Commands?” I whisper. Could it be? I swallow thickly, conjuring up as much confidence as I can as I say, “Cain, put me down.”
He regards me, forked tongue sliding over the edges of his teeth as if he’s considering how good I would taste. Then he slowly lowers me until my feet are on solid ground again.
“Let me go,” I command.
His grip loosens, and he pulls his hand back. All of his eyes are fixed on me now, his slit pupils studying me with a dark intensity.
I can hardly breathe, but I force myself to speak. “Kneel.”
He drops one knee to the ground, and then the other. Even kneeling, he is taller than me. But I step forward until I can tilt my head back to look him in the face. I raise one shaking hand and stroke it along his cheek.
“Good boy,” I whisper.
His eyes half close with pleasure. A low sound rumbles in his throat, something ludicrously close to a purr. Sucking in shaky breaths, still cupping his cheek, I stretch out my other trembling hand and run my fingers through his dark feathers. His head droops, and he leans into my touch.
Even in a monstrous rampage, somewhere deep within his brain, he still responds to me as though I’m the one in charge.
“Come back to me, Cain,” I say. “I know you’re still in there. I want you back in your human form.” When he only stares at me, unresponsive, I add, “Now.”
He shifts, wings fluffing and teeth snapping. But he doesn’t change. Maybe he can’t.
But maybe it doesn’t matter. He’s still him. I press closer, brushing my lips against his cheek. “I said you’re my monster, and I meant it. It doesn’t matter what form you take. You’re mine.”
I cradle his face in both of my hands, pull his head down to mine, and press up on my tiptoes to kiss him. It’s awkward, my lips pressed to a corner of his huge mouth. He turns, nuzzling against me, and I kiss one of his huge canines instead, my fingers digging into his jaw.
He exhales a shuddery breath. Then his mouth opens and he leans into me.
His huge tongue darts out to lick the side of my face, leaving a streak of wetness.
He groans at the taste of me and licks me again, his tongue sliding over my mouth this time.
Shivering in a delirious pleasure, I open my mouth and let it press inside, tangling with mine, nearly choking me.
The rumble of his groan makes the earth tremble. He crouches over me, his arms caging me in, his tongue coiling over my face, sliding up the side of my neck. I gasp, arching, but there’s a spark of terror in my chest as his weight presses into me. It would be so easy for him to crush me.
“No,” I say. My hand looks tiny against his massive chest, and he doesn’t budge as I shove against him. “Get off. You know better than to touch without permission.”
After a moment’s hesitation and a low grumble of complaint, he sits back on his heels.
I push up to my feet and shove against his chest again.
It isn’t doing much to him physically, but he is pliable under my touch, sinking down onto his back at my urging.
I straddle him—or try to, anyway, and end up kneeling on his chest with my full weight atop him.
“Don’t forget who’s in charge.” I drag my nails down his chest, and he groans, claws digging rivets in the ground on either side. “You’re mine, Cain.”
“Yes,” he growls.
I freeze for a second. Did I really hear that, or was it just what I wanted to hear? Arms braced on his chest, I lean forward so I can look him in the eyes, searching for a sign of consciousness.
“Yes what, Cain?” I ask, my voice barely louder than a whisper, hardly daring to hope.
He grumbles, shifting beneath me, his wings folding as he finds a more comfortable position.
“Yes, I’m yours.”
The words are garbled by his mouthful of huge teeth and tongue, gravelly and unlike the voice I know—but they’re words. He’s speaking. He’s still in there.
I smile, tears blurring my vision as I lean forward to stroke his cheek. “Very good, Cain,” I whisper.
A plan is starting to come together in my mind. A way to try and bring Cain back to himself before he’s lost entirely. It is utter insanity—how can I possibly handle a monster of this size, let alone expect him to obey me?—but these glimmers of consciousness make me think it might just work.
I just have to hope that I can survive it.
Swallowing thickly, I slide down his body, stretching my thighs wide so I can straddle his waist. Then I reach behind me and run a hand down his body until I can feel the outline of his massive cock through the torn remnants of the bedsheet that was wrapped around his waist. It swells beneath my touch, growing even more massive.
Cain growls, trying to sit up, but I immediately stop what I’m doing—and so does he, lying back down with a huff of frustration.
“So very big and tough right now,” I say, studying him as I start to stroke him. “But deep down, you’re still my good boy, aren’t you?”
He nods, breath hissing through his teeth.
“Good boys use their words, Cain.”
“Yes,” he groans, arching beneath me. I spit on my hand and resume stroking him, my spit-slick fingers moving more quickly over his length, and all of his eyes roll back at once.
Delirium muddles my thoughts. The air is still hazy with smoke.
Bodies litter the ground not far from us.
Cain is so monstrous, he seems barely human.
And yet… There is something dangerously heady about having such a monster submit to me, and the adrenaline pumping through my body is its own kind of intoxication.
Despite the chaos all around me, the blood still dripping down my chest, the pain and terror I’ve suffered today, there is a growing dampness between my thighs, along with an almost desperate need to feel in control.
And Cain is sating that desire. So huge and strong and deadly, but whining and pliant beneath me.
Yet a hand job isn’t going to be enough to satisfy him. I know what he needs. What we both need right now. I’ve always been the only one able to touch him, and that touch—our connection, our intimacy—may be the only thing that can save him right now.
I reach down to slip off the plain white panties the cult dressed me in. Bare beneath my dress, I brace my hands against Cain’s feather-covered chest, lifting myself to a crouch above his monstrous length.