6. Virgil
VIRGIL
I woke up in a haze, drenched in sweat, every muscle coiled tight like I'd been wrestling a goddamn beast in my sleep. My heart pounded against my ribcage, as my mind struggled to make sense of the fragments of the last dream I had. It clung to me with images that were violent, raw, and seductive. I sat up in bed, my breaths coming hard, the sheets tangled around me, the air thick with the scent of sex surrounding me. The dream, if I could call it that, hadn't been a simple nightmare. No, this had been something far worse. It felt real—too real.
Barythaya.
The thought of her name alone sent a surge of heat through me. I could still feel her. My fingers ached from the memory of gripping her hips, the way her body bucked and writhed beneath me, a perfect, sinful match to my every movement. Her skin, soft yet firm, was hot beneath my touch as if we were both burning alive. I could still taste her on my tongue. Her salty sweat, the sweetness of her juices, the primal need that had twisted us together in that dream.
Something was very wrong, like a fracture in my memory I tried to focus, that shadow creeping around the edges. It was as if death itself had brushed its cold fingers across my soul, leaving a mark I couldn't shake. My chest felt heavy, weighed down by the sense that something was corrupting me from the inside out.
Death, or whatever the hell that thing was, had wrapped itself around me. I was almost certain it hadn't been just Barythaya in the dream. Death had twisted my desires somehow. I could still feel its cold fingers trailing down my spine, lingering long after I'd woken up, like a brand burned into my soul.
The room was still, too still. My breath echoed in the quiet, the steady thud of my heart the only noise in the dark. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the feeling that clung to me. But it wouldn't leave. I could still feel the weight pressing on my chest, a suffocating heaviness that whispered to me, taunted me. Death had been in my dream… but it didn't feel like a dream. It felt like it had been here, in this room, watching me.
What the hell did it want with me?
Did I just have a fucking nightmare, or was I going crazy?
I wasn't that stupid to dismiss it as nothing. There was something about the way Death had hovered, not just over me, but inside me, like a shadow that had slipped through the cracks. And that voice—so soft and seductive, like the pull of the grave itself...it lingered in the back of my mind. It had wanted me . Not my soul, at least not yet, but it did want me.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, my skin slick with sweat. The images wouldn't leave. Barythaya's dark, knowing eyes as she rode me, her nails digging into my skin, her body a perfect rhythm of violence and pleasure. But it wasn't her, not entirely. Death had worn her face, her body. The realization hit me like a gut punch.
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, planting my feet on the cool hardwood floor, trying to ground myself. I glanced around the room. There was an empty silence, no sign of anyone else. But the air felt charged like something had been here and left a residue. I swallowed the rising bile, the unease settled deep in my gut.
The demon… it had been here too, lurking, waiting in the recesses of my mind, watching me, feeding off my fear, my arousal. It had been growing stronger with each passing day, and now I could feel it creeping closer, testing the edges of my defenses.
My hands trembled as I rubbed them over my thighs, trying to pull myself back into reality. But reality felt twisted now, tangled up in shadows and whispers. I remembered how it—the Angel of Death—had spoken to me, as if it knew me, like it had been watching for far longer than I'd realized. It had wanted more than just my life; it wanted my submission. It wanted me to give in.
I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away. This wasn't normal. None of this was normal. But when had my life ever been anything close to normal? I hunted demons, sent them back to the abyss where they belonged. I'd walked through hell and come out on the other side more times than I could count. But this? This felt like something new. Something that didn't just want to break me—it wanted to own me.
I stood, my legs shaky but steady enough to carry me to the bathroom. I turned on the cold water, splashing it over my face, trying to shake the lingering fog of sleep. My reflection stared back at me, my eyes bloodshot, jaw drawn tight. I didn't look like a man who had just woken from a dream. I looked like someone who had returned from a fight and barely survived.
What the hell is going on?
Why am I being hunted by Death itself? And why does it feel like I'm not strong enough to fight it off?
The demon was one thing. I'd fought demons my whole life, I knew how they worked, and what they wanted. But this entity… this was something different. Something far older, far more dangerous. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was on borrowed time, that whatever this was—whatever it was—wasn't going to stop until it had what it wanted. And what it wanted was me .
Is this it, God? Are you warning me?
I gripped the edge of the sink, knuckles white, my mind racing, knowing I would never get an answer from him. I had to figure this out on my own before it was too late. Before I slipped and lost myself to whatever dark pull had latched onto me. Because if I didn't… if I gave in… it wouldn't just be me that was damned. It would be everything I'd fought for. Everyone I'd ever tried to save.
And Barythaya… what the hell did this mean for her? Was she just a pawn in all of this, or was there more to the connection I felt? A shiver ran through me, as if something cold had slithered across my skin. I needed answers, and I needed them fast.
Because Death wasn't just knocking at my door. She was already inside, waiting for me to falter.
I suddenly had this urge to see her.
I didn't bother to fight it. The pull was too strong. I quickly showered and got dressed, ignoring the dull ache in my muscles from the night before. I picked up the leather cutte, the symbol of the Royal Bastards sewn onto the back of the leather. I never search for a purpose,but these men had somehow welcomed me, slowly giving me one. I couldn't let them down, I couldn't die without at least leaving them with some kind of peace of mind.
My soul felt twisted, and it was torn between duty, lust, and something far more dangerous. I pushed thoughts of the MC to the side. It wasn't about my loyalty to them right now, and they'd understand it. Before I could help them, I needed to figure out what was going on with me.
I pulled on the leather and set out to see her. I had to know if it was just the dream or if Barythaya was somehow reaching into my mind and pulling me to her.
The ride to the Sanctuary felt longer than usual. The streets blurred around me, the people faceless, unimportant. All I could think about was Barythaya. Her scent. Her touch. The way my body had responded to her in my dreams. I wanted her in a way that was raw and undeniable. She was like a magnet, drawing me in, pulling me toward her even though I knew I should stay away.
When I pushed open the door to her shop, the familiar scent of ink and antiseptic hit me, but underneath it was her—something warm and feminine, with a bite of danger. My pulse quickened the moment I stepped inside. There she was, sitting behind the counter, her dark hair cascading over her shoulder, her eyes catching mine like a snare.
I swallowed hard, the air between us crackling with tension. She didn't say anything at first, just stared at me, as if she could see the storm raging inside me. My breath hitched, and I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to cross the room and pull her to me.
Her eyes flickered, her lips curling into a faint, knowing smile as if she could feel the same pull I did. My body was already responding to her, heat pooling low in my gut, making it hard to think straight. My cock jerked, wanting release, but I ignored it...for now.
"Virgil," she said softly, her voice like silk sliding over my skin.
"Barythaya," I rasped, my throat dry. I couldn't tear my gaze away from her. "I… I need you to ink me."
She raised an eyebrow, standing up and walking around the counter with slow, deliberate steps. The way her body moved, the way her hips swayed, the sight of her perfect round ass in those tight black leggings made my pulse hammer in my chest. She was temptation personified, and I was powerless against it.
"You have something in mind?" she asked, her voice low, seductive. She stood so close now, her breath ghosting over the bare skin of my chest.
I shook my head, unable to speak for a moment, my mind too wrapped up in the scent of her, the feel of her presence against mine. "No," I finally managed. "Anything you want. Put whatever you want on me."
Her eyes darkened, a flash of something dangerous and alluring in their depths. Without another word, she gestured toward the chair, and I moved without hesitation. My body felt like it was humming with need, every nerve ending alive, sensitive to her nearness. I sat down, feeling the cool leather against my skin, my pulse thundering in my ears.
She approached me slowly, her fingers trailing over my arm, sending jolts of electricity through me. I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my composure, but the way she touched me—light, teasing—made it impossible.
Barythaya didn't speak. She didn't need to. This wasn't about words. This was a dance, a silent, sensual exchange of energy. I watched her as she prepared the needle, her movements precise and controlled, but there was something in her eyes, a flicker of desire that mirrored my own.
She found a spot at the top of my arm and when she pressed the needle to my skin, the pain was immediate, sharp, but it was nothing compared to the fire that spread through me. Her touch was intoxicating, each stroke of the needle pulling me deeper into the heat between us. My cock became rigid, obvious to her eyes. My breathing became ragged, my body tense with a need that was quickly spiraling out of control.
"Relax," she murmured, her breath warm against my neck. Her voice sent a shiver down my spine, and I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the pain, to use it as an anchor.
But all I could think about was her. The way her fingers grazed my skin, the way her body leaned so close to mine that I could feel the warmth radiating off her. Her plump breasts were pressed against my forearm, and I longed to taste them. My hand twitched at my side, aching to reach out, to pull her into me, to taste her.
I opened my eyes and found her staring at me, her lips parted slightly, her eyes locked on mine. There was something primal in the way we looked at each other, a hunger neither of us could ignore.
She was a magnet, and I was drawn to her, powerless to resist.
"What are you doing to me?" I whispered, my voice rough, filled with need.
"I could ask you the same?" She whispered, her mouth, just a few inches away from mine.
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. Whatever game we were playing, I didn't care anymore. I just needed her. Now.
Without thinking, I reached out, grabbing her wrist, pulling her closer. She didn't resist, her body pressing against mine, her breath hot against my lips. The moment our skin touched, it was like a fire ignited between us.
She also felt the sharp, electric jolt of our connection, her head falling back as I pulled her over me. Every nerve in my body was alive, aching for more. I held her wrist tightly, feeling her pulse quicken under my grip, and I pulled her even closer until her breath was mingling with mine, our lips so close they could almost touch.
"Barythaya," I rasped, my voice hoarse with the strain of holding myself back. I wanted to devour her. The heat between us was unbearable. She didn't flinch, didn't pull away. Instead, she looked at me with those dark, dangerous eyes that promised everything I craved but knew I shouldn't take.
"You want something from me?" she whispered, her voice low, almost teasing as her lips grazed the edge of my jaw. My breath hitched, my hand tightening around her wrist, feeling the pulse of her blood beneath my fingers.
Her scent was warm and sweet, slightly intoxicating. It filled my senses, clouding my thoughts. I was past the point of reason. She knew it too. The way she leaned into me, the curve of her body fitting against mine as if she had been crafted just for me. She was my temptation, better than sin, better than any sweet I’ve ever craved, and I wasn’t about to resist her.
"You don't know what you're doing," I muttered, but even as I said it, I knew it was a lie. She knew exactly what she was doing.
Her lips curled into a wicked smile. "Oh, I think I do."
Before I could respond, she shifted, her hands sliding up my chest, her nails grazing my skin through the fabric of my shirt. I sucked in a sharp breath, heat pooling in my core, and her hips shifted, straddling me and sliding her core against my rigid cock. I wasn't hiding it anymore, and she knew it as she leaned in, pressing her lips to the side of my neck. My body tensed, my muscles coiling tight, ready to explode.
Her lips were soft but firm, each kiss sending waves of desire crashing over me. I groaned low in my throat, my grip on her wrist loosening just enough for her to pull away slightly.
"Careful, beautiful. This game we're playing won't end well."
Her body pressed firmly against mine, and I could feel every curve, every inch of her heat radiating through the thin layers of our clothes.
She met my eyes, her gaze intense, challenging. There was a hunger there, dark and sensual, like she was daring me to take control, to give in to the need that was consuming me. And I wanted to. God, how I wanted to.
But there was something else lurking beneath the surface. Something darker, more dangerous.
"Please play with me," she moaned.
I shifted beneath her, my hands sliding to her hips, gripping her tightly. "This is not playing, Barythaya. If I take you, I'll fucking own you."
She tilted her head, her lips brushing against mine in the barest of touches, sending a shock of electricity through me. "Maybe I need this as much as you do. Maybe I want to be claimed and owned."
"You don't know what you're talking about?"
"I know I dream of you," she responded while trailing her fingertips up beneath the rim of my t-shirt. Her warm hands ran over my taut muscles.
"What kind of dreams?" I asked.
Her light eyes focused on me. "Dark, dangerous dreams."
"Describe them to me," I asked, running my hand into the dark locks of her soft hair, grabbing her by the nape of her neck and forcing her to keep her eyes locked on me as she tried to shy away.
"Describe them," I ordered.
She swallowed nervously and then proceeded to tell me. With each word, she grinded herself onto my cock, almost as if trying to relieve that sensual pain that vibrated against her core.
"You-you fucked me," she emphasized the word, licking her lips as she spoke. "You hurt and fucked me but the hurt felt so good."
I growled low in my throat, the sound rumbling from deep within me. "Did I hurt you bad?"
She nodded. "You made me bleed," she whimpered.
"Did you like it?"
She nodded once more. "So much, it scared me."
And without thinking, I crushed my lips to hers, the kiss hard and demanding. She responded immediately, her mouth opening to mine, her hands tangling in my hair, sliding my shirt off as she pulled me closer.
Her taste was intoxicating, sweet and dangerous, and I couldn't get enough. I kissed her harder, my hands gripping her hips, pulling her against me until there was nothing between us but heat and desire. She moaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me, fueling the fire that was already raging out of control.
I broke the kiss, breathing hard, my forehead pressed to hers as I tried to catch my breath. "This is dangerous," I muttered, but even as the words left my mouth, I knew I didn't mean them.
She smirked, her hands sliding down my chest, her fingers brushing over the inked symbols that marked my skin. "You don't seem like the type to avoid danger."
Her touch was light, teasing, but it felt like fire on my skin. I sucked in a breath, trying to control the whirlwind of need that was threatening to consume me.
She leaned in close, her lips brushing the shell of my ear. "Tell me what you want, Virgil."
My body reacted to her words, my pulse quickening, blood rushing south. My hands slid up her thighs and over that delectable curve of her ass. I slid her over me, making sure she could feel the heat of my cock pressing against her core.
I growled low, my voice rough. "I want you."
Her eyes darkened, her lips curving into that dangerously soft, sensual smile again. She leaned back slightly, her hands moving to the hem of her shirt, slowly lifting it over her head, revealing the smooth, tattooed skin beneath. My breath caught in my throat as she straddled me me, bare and unapologetic.
"Then take me," she whispered.
I didn't need to be told twice. I pulled her to me, my lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was all fire and fury, raw and unrestrained. Her body molded to mine, soft and yielding, and I could feel the tension in her muscles as she arched into me, her nails digging into my back, pulling me closer.
Without breaking the kiss, I reached for the small knife I kept hidden, the blade cold against my hand. I could feel her breath hitch as I dragged the flat of the blade against her skin, teasing the edge just enough to make her gasp.
She moaned softly, her body trembling against mine, and I knew she wanted more. I slid the tip of the blade against the material at her core, ripping at it slightly. She moaned and yelped as with my hands, I finished the job, ripping her leggings until I could see the soft lace of her panties covering her pussy.
I flipped her on the table, sliding her back against the leather cot so I could have my way with her. I tore away the remnants of the leggings and she lay there for me, displayed beautifully in black lace panties and bra, her nipples protruding through the soft material.
"Should I lock the door?" I questioned, staring at the open door.
"I don't care," she whispered back while tugging my face to focus on her once again.
The door forgotten, I pressed the blade against her thigh, just enough to draw a thin line of red. The sight of her blood sent a shiver down my spine, a primal urge rising within me.
Her lips parted, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she looked down at the thin trail of blood, her eyes dark with desire. "More," she whispered, her voice barely audible, but the need in her tone was undeniable.
I pressed my lips to her neck, kissing the delicate skin just above the pulse point, the blade still pressed against her thigh. "You're mine now," I growled, my voice rough with arousal.
"Yes, please," she nodded, her hands gripping my shoulders as I bit down on her neck, running my tongue down the base of it until my mouth was on hers again. I kissed her hard and deep, the taste of her blood lingering on my lips.
Her body trembled against mine as I slid the blade down her neck, following that same trail I had just left with my mouth. I watched her reaction closely—her breath hitched, and her pulse quickened beneath my fingertips. She didn't pull away. Instead, her gaze remained locked on mine, dark and daring, silently begging for more.
I gripped her thigh tightly, letting the knife's tip graze her skin and over her panties. "Are you afraid?" I asked, my voice low, almost a growl.
Her lips parted slightly, a soft breath escaping as she shook her head. "No."
With a slow, deliberate motion, I dragged the blade gently beneath the rim of her pantyline, jerking lightly, just enough to draw a thin line of crimson. Her body tensed, but she didn't flinch. Instead, her breath quickened, and her eyes fluttered closed as a soft moan escaped her lips. The sight of her blood, dark against her pale skin, sent a surge of primal hunger coursing through me.
Without hesitation, I leaned down and ran my tongue along the thin cut, tasting her, savoring the metallic tang of her blood. I slid her panties to the side, sliding my tongue over her wetness and filling it with the taste of her juices. She gasped softly, her fingers curling into my hair as I licked her skin clean, leaving no trace of the wound behind except for the heat of my touch.
"God, Barythaya..." I groaned against her pussy, the taste of her still lingering on my lips. She was intoxicating, and I wanted more.
Her hips bucked slightly against me as I pulled back to meet her gaze, the blood now wiped clean, but the desire still burning fiercely between us. Her eyes were dark, full of lust and something deeper—an understanding of what we were, of the darkness we both carried inside.
"I knew you'd taste sweet," I murmured, running the flat of the blade up her clit, teasing her, making her shiver beneath my touch.
Her lips curled into a wicked smile, her nails digging into my shoulders as she arched her body toward me. "Then why stop now?" she whispered, her voice thick with need.
I let out a dark, rough laugh as I pressed my lips to hers again, the blade still in hand, the taste of her blood mingling with the kiss. I knew this was dangerous—this dance of violence and lust—but I didn't care. She was a magnet, pulling me in deeper, and I was too far gone to resist.
Her body moved against mine, every touch igniting the fire between us. We were both consumed, lost in the darkness, in the heat of the moment, and there was no turning back. I dragged the blade up her side, just enough to tease her skin, drawing out a shiver and a gasp that fueled the hunger building between us.
She was mine, and I wanted to mark her, to make sure she knew that.
Her body trembled under my touch, but there was no fear—only desire, raw and hungry. The thin line of blood along her side glistened under the low light, and I couldn't resist. I brought the blade up again, just barely grazing her skin before licking away the thin trail of crimson that followed. The metallic taste flooded my senses, sharp and primal, and I could feel the fire raging in both of us, stoked by every touch, every bite of the blade.
Barythaya's breath hitched, her fingers tightening in my hair, pulling me closer as I continued my torment. Her lips parted, her moan soft but laced with urgency. She wasn't just giving in—she was matching me in this dangerous dance, pushing herself into the darkness, wanting more. I could feel it in the way her hips rocked against me, the way her nails dug into my back, leaving their own marks.
She looked up at me, her eyes burning with lust, her mouth curling into a wicked smile as she whispered, "You're holding back."
I let out a low growl, the blade pressing just enough into her skin to make her breath catch, but not enough to break it. The hunger between us was electric, a storm that neither of us could control, and I didn't want to hold back any longer. She writhed beneath me, her body arching into every touch, every flick of the knife against her skin, until her soft moans filled the room like music.
I kissed her fiercely, the taste of her blood mingling with our shared breath, my hands trailing down to her hips, gripping her tightly. Every inch of her was mine in that moment, and I wanted her to feel it. To know that I wasn't leaving this time. That I couldn't.
Her voice came in ragged gasps. "More..." she begged, her voice sultry, a demand I was eager to fulfill. I pressed my forehead against hers, our breathing ragged as I watched her undo my pants. Her hands slid into my jeans and I groaned at the soft touch along my hard cock.
I could feel her pulse beneath my lips as I kissed her throat, letting the blade slide down her skin slowly, marking her in ways no one else would ever dare.
But in the haze of lust, I could feel something else creeping in—something darker.
He's here.
That voice—the one I'd tried to drown out, the one that lived in the shadows of my mind—spoke louder than ever. It was the demon, the one that had haunted me since I started down this path, always watching, always waiting for a moment of weakness.
You can't protect her, it hissed, its voice thick with malice. She'll die just like the others. And you'll be the one who kills her.
I froze, my grip on the blade tightened. Barythaya must have felt it because her hand found my cheek, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw as if trying to pull me back from the edge. "Virgil?" Her voice was soft but laced with concern.
I swallowed hard, trying to shake off the demon's voice, trying to focus on her, but the demon wouldn't stop.
You think you can save her? You're already lost. She's just another soul for me to claim through you.
I closed my eyes, my breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps. Barythaya pressed her lips to mine again, trying to anchor me, but the demon's laughter echoed in my mind, cruel and mocking. It knew my weaknesses, my fears, and it thrived on them.
"I need to leave," I whispered against her lips, though every fiber of my being screamed to stay. "I shouldn't?—"
She grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer, her eyes fierce, dark, and filled with something I couldn't escape. "Don't," she murmured, her voice softer now. "Don't leave me."
I couldn't. I didn't want to. Her hand slid me out of my pants and we both looked down as she slowly slid the tip against her core.
"Barythaya," I whispered.
"Don't leave me, Virgil. Don't leave without claiming me. I need to feel you. I need you to please fuck yourself into me," she moaned as the tip of my thick head slipped through that tight little hole of hers.
The blade clattered onto the tiled floor as I braced myself against the leather table. My cock throbbed, as I slowly thrust into her. She gasped and moaned with every inch, wrapping her legs around my waist.
I could feel the demon lurking at my back, almost urging me to be violent. To buck into her like some wild animal.
I gripped her by the waist, flipping us over so she'd be on top. She grinded that tight hot hole over me. Moving her hips sensually, engulfing my cock completely as she tugged down on her bra, pulling at her nipples. She was fucking me now, relentless in her need.
I couldn't take it anymore as I gripped her hips. I lifted my feet onto the table and helped her, fucking my cock up into her. I watched as the blood smeared on the side of her rib cage where I had last slid the blade into her skin. I rubbed at it, bringing it to my mouth enjoying her moan of pleasure. She was as dark and twisted as I was, her demons matching mine so perfectly. I couldn't take it, I flipped us over, grabbing the knife as I hovered over her. I gripped the handle tightly as I fucked her harder. With each thrust, she dug her nails into my back. I could feel the sting of tearing skin.
"That's it baby girl, take it out on me. Take it out on your cock."
"I'm going to cum on you, Virgil."
"Good girl," I whispered as I slid the knife over her breast.
As a drop of blood slid over the nipple, her body tensed, and the orgasm swept over her. I licked at her wound, my cock exploding along with her body. We clung to each other as I continued to fuck her.
The demon's voice continued, relentless, burrowing deep into my mind like claws. She'll die, and her blood will be on your hands.
I clenched my eyes shut, trying to drown out the voice, but it only laughed harder, feeding off my doubt.
My grip on the knife faltered, and I pulled away from her, stumbling to my feet, my chest tight with an overwhelming sense of dread. The desire to stay with her was like a magnetic pull, but so was the suffocating weight of the demon's presence.
I had to protect her—from me, from the monster clawing at my soul. But she was a siren, drawing me back with every breath, every touch.
"Virgil..." her voice was like silk, desperate, yet commanding.
I turned to her, my heart pounding in my chest, knowing that if I stayed, if I gave in, I would doom her.
You can't save her, the demon whispered again, I will destroy her.
But I didn't want to let her go. Not this time. I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, she was the one who could pull me back from the brink.
"I have to go Barythaya," I looked away from her broken gaze as I quickly got dressed.
"Why?" Her voice cracked and I knew I was hurting her.
When I turned to look at her, she had her hands over her breasts, streaks of faint blood coated her breasts and torso. I let my eyes roam over her body, all curves and softness. Such a contrast to my own.
I slowly walked over to her, sliding my fingertips over the top of her breast, outlining the wound.
"This is my doing," I whispered, leaning down to lick at it.
She gasped, sliding her fingertips through my hair as she so easily gave her body over to my touch. I left my mark on her, licking her wounds and leaving hot kisses on her needy frame.
"I have to go. And not because I want to, Barythaya." I whispered into her ear.
"But because if I don't go, I don't know what the demons I carry with me, will be capable of."
She cried out softly, trying to grab at me as I slid myself away from her. I didn't look back, because I knew if I did, I'd take her with me. And she didn't deserve to be on this path to hell that I was currently on.