Chapter 13 #2
His tone is less dominating and more intrigued. Pulling back to stand at his full height. The steam from the shower makes my scars itch and now the pain of cramps weighs on my body. That doesn’t include the fact that I’m still fucking hungry and tired.
I start shaking my head and hunching my back to cradle my stomach. “We’ll have to do this another time. I’m. . .” Everything teeters for a minute as I lock my knees and squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m not feeling well. Hungry, tired, in pain. I just can’t. . .”
I swear if I fall down on this ground right now I’m going to fall asleep. I can feel the sluggishness of my body as my consciousness fights.
He hums and I begin to turn when some sort of sheet or. . . towel? It feels like a towel that covers my shoulders and then I feel his hands grip me. “What’s wrong? Your scent heightened and it’s sweeter not heady.”
Fuck.
Of course he can tell something is up. Blood means a stronger scent and it’s the fifteenth. It’s a full moon. It’s the start of my cycle.
I had been wondering when it was going to be coming back.
While I was comatose because of my body in a constant state of dying – I’m only alive because of magic forcing my organs to continue functioning – it erased my period for those couple of months.
It’s the same way a woman could have an irregular period due to stress or diet.
But I’m fine now and so is my fucking menstruation.
I shake my head again but Darian’s hands tighten. Whatever. It’s not like I really care. Females have periods, people need to get over it.
“I’m menstruating,” I huff. The cramps seizing and making me wince. I just want to curl up in a ball.
I’m about to do just that when my feet are swept out from under me and I’m falling for only a second before arms lift me up. The towel is large enough that it covers from my shoulders down to my calves so Darian doesn’t touch any skin.
I grumble in the back of my throat. “I said we’ll have to do this another time.
I’m so serious, Darian, I’m about to let myself pass out because I am too tired.
I’m too tired and hungry and those don’t mix well as is but add the fact that my body is punishing me for not being pregnant and literal blood is coming out of me I just – “
My words are cut off as hot water rains down on my head making me sputter, gasp, and then internally scream.
Flailing my arms, I’m immediately set down and then I shove myself as far from the waters reach as possible.
My skin feels like it’s melting from the water on my scars.
Irritating them to the max and reigniting that burning.
Pressed into a corner, I wipe the water from my eyes as I heave before looking up to an icy blue shade carefully watching me. He’s standing just out of the sprays reach in nothing but a pair of boxers. Though they’re soaked – as I am now – with a thick bulge that I realize I’m staring at.
He chuckles as I snap my eyes up to his face and then glare. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”
He doesn’t chuckle again but there is a glimmer of humor in his eyes before he glances at the water. “I thought only physical touch burns.”
I grit my teeth and bare them. “Your scars don’t still ache or itch or twinge with pain within certain elements?
” I eye his scars littering his chest. They all look well healed but I realize for scars to remain on an immortal – a celestial above all – the weapon would have to be made with some sort of magic or blue belladon.
I wonder which weapon was used on him for his scars to stay.
His icy eyes rove down my skin. Then he turns towards a panel on the side and runs his finger down it. Immediately the temperature drops and a shiver causes goosebumps to appear on my flesh. As if the water running is no longer scalding but freezing.
He ticks his head and smirks. Despite the temperature now, the look in his eyes makes my skin heat. Another – different – pinch seizes my uterus. I squeeze my thighs together because of it and because he’s a jackass he notices.
“Strip.” He now demands. “All the way.”
I arch a brow, a bit more energized because of the anger, and growl out, “You first.”
Without breaking eye contact he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear and pushes them straight down.
My eyes hit the ceiling as warmth floods my cheeks. I didn’t think he would actually do it. I didn’t think. I should have known better. This is Darian, after all.
“Your turn.” His voice drops an octave and his pine scent twitches in the air with another scent I can’t name. It’s addicting though. “Or do you want me to do it?”
That anger sparks as I look down – only to his face – and glare my hardest. Then I straighten my back as I reach behind me to unhook my bra. I let it drop to the shower floor, and then I slip my thumbs into my panties and drag those down.
Something darkens in his gaze as he watches every move. His eyes never leaving me or my body, tracking every movement I make until I stand back up straight. Droplets of water run down from my hair over my body. He seems to track those as well.
Since he is occupied, I glance – just for half a second – down. Half a second stretches though as I stare at. . . that.
I’ve seen my share of penises throughout my life – I’ve seen my fair share of sexy looking penises from the girls – but that. My clit throbs and my cunt clenches around nothing and heat sizzles within and suddenly that pinch from my cramps is nonexistent. All I feel is –
“Trouble, trouble,” he purrs. Snapping my eyes up, his own glimmer again. I realize now that it’s arousal. Lust. Sex. A want that looks almost tangible as his eyes devour me. “Spread your legs.”
The dark demand causes my pussy to clench again, but I press my hands into the wall of the corner I’m in and try to hold strong.
“I thought this was supposed to be training.”
I had meant to snap at him but it sounds way too breathy. As if I’d been panting while I was staring at his dick. A dick that is long and hard and my. . . something – brain, body, conscious, soul – wants it. Wants it stuffed somewhere inside me, whether that be my mouth, pussy, or ass I don’t care.
Except I do care because that’s my ‘I’m practically ovulating even though I’m in my menstrual phase’, ‘please fuck me’ horny-ass self speaking and that’s not something I really want. At least, not in that exact derogatory sense.
“This is,” he states. Making me rack my brain trying to remember what we had been talking about. “Pain can heighten pleasure, but pleasure can also dull pain. Your brain needs to be thinking about something else while it adjusts to the pain you’ll be feeling from this burning.”
He speaks not quite clinically, but gently educating all while his eyes glaze with a heat and fire that licks up my spine. Not a burning, but flames like my own fire. Comforting, and yet this is something new. Something I haven’t really felt before.
“Now spread your legs, Trouble.”
I push my back further into the corner. “They won’t like this. You touching me.”
They as in my fated. Not that I’m necessarily trying to find a way to stop or prevent this, but I don’t really know if I’m ready.
I’ve never done anything willingly with anyone before.
Never thought I’d be able to because of my curse.
Hell, I’ve never even masturbated before.
The last orgasm I had was when I was nine and those were always twisted with hatred for my body for giving that to him.
A fact I admitted to them all not thirty minutes ago. I don’t think Darian knows about that yet. He hadn’t been in the room yet.
This though. . . this is different. The energy is different, the circumstances, me. Unable to admit it out loud, but deep down a part of me does want this.
A part of me I’ve always kept in the recesses of my mind because the fantasies I’ve thought about are not what someone like me should think.
Someone who was molested for the better part of her childhood and was tortured and should want to stay as far away from those dark little wants.
The dark fantasies I don’t even think about with other people around because things like rape fantasies and being chased in the woods and being tied up and choked are not something someone like me should be thinking about.
Ms. Elaycia’s one rule had always been to never judge someone else’s sexual preferences as long as it didn’t hurt either party – or at least didn’t hurt without any sexual gratification.
And I have never judged. There’s even a girl at the brothel who does like being taken without permission, but she’s told me there are rules and contracts and safe words and in the end she is truly the one with all the power.
I would never judge her for wanting and loving that, but me?
I can’t want that. I shouldn’t want that. Not with my past.
But I am allowed to want sex. Even though I have accepted that I would never have it because I can’t be touched, I’m allowed to want that kind of pleasure.
He arches a brow at me and continues to wait, disregarding my words. Waiting, because whether he has processed it or not, he’s no different to them. The tie might not be known and he might not fully realize why he’s so drawn or why I’m so willing, but it’s still there.
A fate not yet told – and yet fate is fate. This tie that will eventually be between us was written – has been written for as long as the other four.
My body heeds before my brain. My legs spread apart, giving him a better view of my center.
Already dripping with both my arousal and my blood.
I’m in a shower so I’m not going to be keeping a hold of my menstrual blood since there’s water to wash it down a drain.
It also lessens the cramps to not keep a hold of it. Though they currently feel muted.
“Good,” he praises, which causes me to clench again. The fact that it’s around nothing makes my muscles tighten and a certain need begins to form. “Now, stay still.”
Then he grabs something from outside the shower and pulls the shirt over his head.
A thin looking long sleeve that sticks to his wet skin as he comes to kneel right before me.
A thin long sleeve that covers his chest and shoulders as he grabs one of my calves and places it over his shoulder.
Placing his fingers carefully between my scars as he does it before letting go and placing his hands against the wall under me.
His face is so fucking close now. Close enough that he could stick his tongue out and lick me. Close enough that –
“What are you going to do?” I whisper. My words practically drowned by the raining shower.
Those icy eyes that are so familiar trace up my body until they lock on mine. He looks so similar and yet not. His aura that he eased up with wraps around me like my own does. My own that I have not hidden again.
Then he looks down directly at me. The anticipation ringing tighter than that coiled heat at my center. I obviously know, from all the context clues, what he’s going to do. But it’s still. . . it doesn’t feel real.
One of his arms moves behind the leg draped over his shoulder until his hand is in front of my face. “Make a cut, Trouble, and then drink. I am no devil and you need to feed. While you feed, so will I.”
My stomach dips just as a flick to my clit makes the leg holding me up shake. He does it again as he presses his hand closer to my lips and his blood which I can feel speeding in his veins smells like power.
Taking his hand in mine, my hips jerk closer to his mouth as I take my fang and cut into his palm.
Pine and death permeate the air stronger as I inhale before sticking my tongue out and licking the cut.
His own tongue drags along the entirety of my slit, warm and wet and too late I realize he is not a blood sucker and just lapped up my fucking menstrual blood.
Jerking my hips back, I dig my nails into his palm and glare at him. “I’m bleeding,” I grit, trying to pull myself away. He only chuckles as he takes his tongue for another drag and the feeling as my eyes closing and pushing my hips forward.
Fucking hell.
Whatever. If he wants to drink my blood like a damned vampire what the fuck do I care because that feels. . . it feels –
My brain doesn’t process. His tongue that swirls over my clit before his lips suck. I jerk and clench around nothing and it feels so fucking good.
Then there’s a prick that makes me jump and fling my eyes open. Dark, lust-ridden icy eyes glint with so much hunger as he softly rubs his bloody palm to my lips.
Correcting my grip on his wrist, I wrap my lips over the wound and then suck.
Blood that tastes like corrupted divinity. All that is righteous and holy but twisted with dark, heated sin. His blood, the soul-rendering true formed angel, tastes like sex. An aphrodisiac on its own as his lips and tongue do things to my cunt that has my lower stomach clenching in tight.
My head hits the wall and my eyes shut to feel it all.
To revel in this feeling because it feels good.
My free hand threads through his hair as his tongue dips into my center and the hum that comes from his throat vibrates perfectly against me.
Too soon I can feel that wave rising and about to crest and fall.
With his blood sliding down my throat like a rich dessert I’m so fucking close.
My body heating up and my muscles coiling tight as I can feel it right there. My hips jerking harsher trying to finally tip that scale and let me come. Then there’s a different kind of burning. A burning I feel begin on my stomach that makes my body flash hot and cold.
Darian sucks on my clit one more time as my orgasm finally hits right as I realize his free hand is splayed over my stomach. While ecstasy floods my body with my pussy spasming, agony assaults and battles with the pleasure.
Bad idea.
This was a horrible idea.
The burning overshadows everything so much that I stop drinking to brace my body against it. The lingering tremors below don’t matter because I can barely feel them. All there is, is pain.