Chapter 9 #2
An emptiness somehow worse than nothingness. Because this nothingness was looking back at her. Not with eyes that she could see, but ones that she could feel. A hundred thousand eyes—a hundred thousand million—watched her in eagerness.
“I love it when you fight. I love it when you surrender.” Things that were not hands slipped inside of her pants.
She was shivering beneath him as he loomed over her.
His lips, hot and sensual, kissed at her neck. He grazed her skin with teeth that were just a little too sharp.
“I could spend a million stories killing you in brand new ways, and be just as entertained as this…do you understand?”
She did.
God help her, she really did.
And it didn’t stop her from wanting it.
Wanting him.
Wanting to live in a world where they—
“Stop it!”
The world dropped out from under her.
Sasha screamed.
Sasha was back where she began her misadventure, in her cottage as a bog witch. Lying on her back on her dining table, staring up at the Dark King. The whirlwind of what was happening, the changes of scenery—up was down, down was up, and her head was spinning.
The Dark King placed his clawed hand over her throat, curling into a tight grasp. And in the emptiness of his hood, she watched as one single purple eye appeared.
“You will die in this story. It is inevitable.” His words were inside her mind once more. They were in stark contrast to the sudden feeling of him inside of her in other ways. His hips drove forward, and she gasped, arching her back as pleasure arched through her without warning.
They truly had picked up where they had left off. Only this time, the Dark King was far more corporeal than before. It was no longer Vile she was making love to. Vile was simply narrating.
“I—I know—” She gasped as he rammed into her again. Reaching out, she was surprised that she could actually touch a man made entirely of shadow. She grabbed his arm, not to pull his hand away from her throat, but because she needed desperately for something to hold on to.
“Then you will only be one death away from disappearing from these pages forever, Sasha.” His other arm hooked her knee over his elbow and leaned forward, using his considerable height and leverage to deepen his strikes. “You are going to lose.”
She could barely think through the blinding pleasure. Of feeling him over her, inside of her, of feeling the strength in him. The strength of him. She knew what he was saying was true. She knew the bad guys always lost—and she knew whose side she was on.
And that was why…
That was why he wouldn’t.
No. Couldn’t.
“In the—in the stories…” she gasped out.
“Have you reconsidered my marriage proposal, witch?” The purple of his eye blinked out and was gone.
He let up the pressure of his grasp around her throat enough to let her fill her lungs with air.
He didn’t let up from the machine-like rutting of her into oblivion, which was really what was driving all cognizant thought from her head.
“Have you—considered—my terms?” Her pleasure crested unexpectedly, and it didn’t even slow the bastard down. He kept ramming into her like he was an engine.
Maybe he was planning on killing her like this.
That wouldn’t be so bad.
“The princess will die.”
Ah. So that was the plot tie-in with her sister. “Fuck—“ She gasped out, thwacking her head back against the table as he yanked her roughly into his thrusts. It was like being pinned under steel and rebar. She was at his mercy.
And it was amazing.
“I was promised her soul before your stupid prophecy—” She was winging it hard. But so far it had worked. “Her grandmother sold me her daughter’s daughter before you ever showed up he—ah!”
“This world is mine. And so are all those who dwell within it. Including you, witch.” He had slammed himself full to the hilt inside her, and was pressing himself somehow farther in, and it was making her see stars of an ache that wasn’t pain. It was bliss.
She’d agree to anything if he just did that a little more.
“The princess cannot be spared.”
“Never said I’d spare h—” Oh, god, was he getting hotter inside of her? What was happening? “Who said anything about sparing h—” She couldn’t finish her sentence.
Because she felt him start to throb inside of her.
Silently, as if it were not affecting him at all, he was filling her. Painting her as his. It transcended everything she thought a moment like that could feel like. She clung to him, mouth open in a silent cry as every nerve in her body lit on fire and burnt to a crisp.
“I will give you one chance to work your will on her. If you fail, her life is forfeit.” He withdrew from her body, but didn’t leave her. He stayed there, looming over her, a dark and beautifully warm presence.
Seemingly, the Dark King was polite enough to wait for her to be able to think straight to formalize a reply.
“Counter…terms…accepted…”
She had no idea what she just agreed to.
Not really.
But it was going to become very clear very quickly.
“We will speak soon…my bride.”
With that, he disappeared like the last shadows of the night on the dawn.