Chapter 17 #2
I glance at Fynn, still strained in my shadows, and pitch-black smoke billows from his mouth, rendering him unable to speak any words.
Good. His voice is the last thing I want to listen to in this moment, unless it is because I tear a scream from his lungs.
All I want right now is to feel Reiner claim me, to suffocate him between my thighs, but simultaneously, I, too, feel giddy about what possible wonders the purified blood will do.
“Every fiber in my body wants to smother you in my arousal, to roll my hips against you, while you’re filling me completely,” I say, as I lick my lips and stare up at him with half-lidded eyes.
Reiner swallows hard. I know how much he loves it when I express to him that I need him as badly as he wants me.
“But,” I say teasingly, “Let’s play with some sacred blood first.”
“I should fuck you in his blood,” he growls, and a delicious heat begins to spread between my thighs.
He grazes my neck with his teeth, then steps away, letting out a heavy breath, adjusting his cock.
“Blood first, playing later,” Reiner says with a raspy voice.
He moves to the kitchen, leaving me standing there, as I take in his shoulders, that perfect ass of his. When he comes back, he holds a ritual sickle in one hand, the blade dotted with old brown stains.
“I’ll get some vials!” I offer.
I quickly dash to the back of the house, rummage through an old wooden cabinet, and return with six medium-sized glass vials.
“You want him dead that badly, huh?” Reiner laughs.
“I might,” I snort.
I order my shadows to place him on the floor, and once he’s flat on the ground, my shadows splay themselves over his writhing body.
“Let him scream.”
Immediately, my shadows retreat from his mouth, and Fynn begins to cough loudly.
“You two are fucking insane!” He froths.
“Perhaps,” I smile at him.
Reiner closes in, the sickle hovering over Fynn’s body, who follows every movement with a hitched breath, and I can almost hear his frightened heart thumping loudly against his ribcage. It’s cathartic.
With the tip of the blade, Reiner drags a thin line across Fynn’s wrist, which my shadows hold up in offering. Small beads of blood start to swell, as the nick turns into a cut, the color is the brightest red I’ve ever seen.
“Beautiful,” I murmur.
Fynn, on the other hand, struggles against the suffocating hold he is in, a raw cry tearing from his throat, the sound sharp like fractured glass. I glower at him.
“Shut up, Fynn,” I sneer, his name bitter on my tongue. “Cut deeper,” I order Reiner.
I watch as the blade sinks into Fynn’s tender flesh, the skin parting, the ridges curling up slowly. More blood begins to spill, and I shove the first vial under his wrist. A tiny river of crimson crawls across his skin, leaking into the glass. It’s mesmerizing.
A muffled scream presses past his lips, and I feel a slight tremble in my shadows as he claws at them.
His body rages against the confines, wild and unwilling, and that’s when I sense it before it catches my eye—a tiny spark—a flicker, like lightning cracking through the sky.
The illumination within my shadows appears and disappears just as swiftly.
I blink.
“Reiner… did you see that as well?”
Reiner is taunting Fynn, the sickle now on his throat, nicking the skin there, while he uses his fog to frost over the minor wounds.
“See what, my love?”
I shake my head. I must have imagined it. I switch the first vial for an empty one, and push the cork in to seal the blood.
“Never mind,” I mumble.
I hold the blood in front of me, daylight filtering through it, and I swear I see a faint shimmering in it. Even their blood is lighter than ours, I think to myself sourly.
A new wail rips from Fynn’s chest, and this time, Reiner sees it too, an ember that ignites.
A golden hue begins to spread over Fynn’s skin, and I hiss as I retreat my shadows, the glow painful.
Although not as sharp as in the flower field, my mind is instantly back in that moment, the burns I endured, the torturous pain I suffered at his hands.
I can’t do that a second time; I refuse to do it again.
I feel Reiner’s eyes on me, observing me.
He notices the crippling fear that begins to spread throughout my body, paralyzing me, as Fynn slowly gets to his unsteady feet.
His dormant witch side must have awakened at the imminent threat that was brought to him by our doing, the foresight of being our captive, suffering abuse each time we want to take his blood.
The idea of him having similar powers to the Aurum, the way he wielded it against me that day, horrifies me.
I am unable to confront him, as terror begins to wrap itself around me, clasping me in its cold, unmoving fist.
Instead of attacking Fynn, my body shuts down, the trauma overpowering me, and I collapse to the floor, curling myself up into a ball. The fear locks my breath and stills my bones. I softly rock my body, hoping all of it will be over soon.
Reiner moves fast, his footsteps tracing over the wooden floor.
Thud, thud, thud. I listen as the blade of the sickle slides through the air, meeting what it seeks.
Skin is being split apart, its echo skittering off the walls, as metal collides with tender flesh, the squelching sound turns the dense silence into something unholy.
The metallic tang fills my lungs as I inhale deeply.
I barely register the blood-chilling scream that erupts from Fynn’s throat, or the warm splatters of blood that paint my skin scarlet.
None of it matters. All of it is a blur.
Fynn falls beside me, his body limp. The sound of his skull hitting the floor and the soft crack that follows is unsettling.
Those gray eyes of his dart until they find mine and fixate, as if I’m still his beacon of comfort.
His lips move, words are trying to spill, to find me, but all I see are globs of blood pooling from his mouth instead.
His throat is a gaping hole, where the blade of the sickle was yanked through with force.
My eyes dip to the half-cut trachea, responsible for his muted speech, and I’m grateful.
I don’t want to hear his words or his voice.
A breathless whimper escapes me, as I can’t tear my eyes from the beautiful boy, while his soul slowly escapes the mortal cage that it once called home.
Silent tears well in the corners of his gray eyes.
He continues to move his lips, as if he’s having a conversation with me, and perhaps, in his mind, he is.
Fynn lifts his hand toward me, only for it to slump down halfway before it can reach its destination, my face.
Fynn’s eyes glaze over, his pupils stop moving, and then his lips freeze in time as well.
I let out a shaky breath, slowly sitting up.
All of it felt like hours, but it was merely a few seconds.
Reiner throws aside the small weapon and crashes next to me, pulling me against his chest, cradling me.
His fingers rake lovingly through my hair, then he wraps me in a tighter embrace, his chin resting on the top of my head.
“He’s gone, my love,” he whispers.
His warmth is comforting, but the more I come to my senses, the more I realize what Reiner’s action means. Fynn’s blood, our magical supply, all of it gone. I loosen the embrace and glance up at Reiner.
“His blood, we—” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“When will you understand, Caria? You are all that anchors me to this world, the only soul I cherish. Seeing you in distress like that will never be worth it, nor will I ever play with your life to keep that bastard around, only for him to take you away from me. I would rather let the world crumble to ash than allow your life to be toyed with or torn from my grasp. You are who I love, you are who matters, you always have been. If protecting you means that I cast aside every ambition we ever held, then I will let them rot. I love you, Caria. I need you to be safe.”
“Reiner,” I whisper, and cup his face. “I love you so much.”
I nestle myself against him, my love, the one who will always put me above himself, no matter what anyone says.
“At least we have the Aurum still,” I murmur.
“Indeed, we do,” he says.
He smirks, and I laugh. “If we can’t use it, we can always sell it and become filthy rich.”
Reiner kisses my forehead, my cheek, my lips, then my neck, and I gasp softly.
“But first, I’m going to help you let go of this tenseness that flows through your body.” He smiles. “How about you be a good little witch, and open those delicious thighs for me.”
Lazily, I stand up, and I tug down my pants, locking my gaze with his.
I throw them to the side and climb into his lap, straddling him.
Slowly, I begin to roll my hips, grinding against his hard cock.
With a firm grip, he holds onto my waist and pushes me down, forcing me to shift in my position until I’m flat on my back, and my legs hang loosely on his hips.
I feel Fynn’s blood seeping into my clothes, but I don’t care.
Reiner sits on his knees and spreads me wide.
He drags a finger across my slit, and I moan breathily.
“I told you I’d help you to decompress.”
He hooks a finger behind the fabric of my panties and rips them apart in one movement. A shudder ripples through my body, and I want to clench my thighs, the heat that courses through me almost too much.
“Ah, ah,” he tsks, wiggling his finger at me.
“Fuck, Caria, I wish you could see yourself the way I do, the way your hair merges with the blood, the way your cunt glistens with your arousal. You’re perfect.”
The outline of his straining cock is clearly visible, and all I want is to feel him deep inside me, to taste him, but Reiner doesn’t allow me to do anything.
The moment I reach for his shirt, he pushes me back into the slippery crimson mess.
Frustrated, I move my hand between my legs, but the moment my fingertips find my throbbing clit, he swats my hand away.
Then a firm slap on my breast, and I hiss—another slap follows instantly.
“Did I tell you to touch yourself?”
He takes off his shirt, revealing those abs with scars, and his broad chest, and all I can think about is how much I want him to fuck me. But Reiner has different ideas.
With his thumb, he circles my nipple, easing the sting, and I bite down on my lower lip.
He always knows exactly what I need. He rolls my nipple between his index finger and thumb, then pinches it.
The pain is a mere flicker of torment, and my eyes snap to his.
A wicked grin is plastered on his face, and I gasp when an ice-cold sensation enters my vagina.
He bends over me, nipping the sensitive skin of my neck, as his hands continue to fondle my breasts.
The fog lingers inside me, stretching me, as my vaginal walls clench around it desperately, the iciness a dizzying sensation.
He softly blows against my skin, and thin whisps of mist traverse across my body; the cold sensation of his fanning breath sends a murmur through my veins.
One of his hands snakes between my thighs, and I let out a cry when his thumb finds my aching clitoris.
Reiner puts instant pressure on it, circling the desperate nub.
A blanket of ice coats my flesh, while my body is lost in heat.
It doesn’t take long before my orgasm spreads like a wildfire, desperate to melt the cold sensation.
I buck against Reiner’s hand as the knot that has formed inside me explodes, and my release finds its way out.
“That’s it, my love, give it all to me,” Reiner whispers.
Blinking rapidly, I push myself up, wrapping my legs around him tighter.
“I need you,” I whimper.
His eyes rake over my shuddering form, and he releases his cock, a glint of pre-cum visible.
He positions himself between my thighs and nudges my slit with his tip.
Suddenly, the icy sensation disappears, and in one deep thrust, he enters me.
An unfathomable heat replaces the cold sensation.
I cling to him, driving my nails into his back.
If I could, I would fuse my body with his.
His fingers dig into the flesh of my ass, it’s just as painful as it is erotic.
He drives himself into me, as if he desires the same, thrusting with no mercy.
Reiner drags his hand through the pool of blood I’m lying in, and he smears it across my chest, my breasts covered in Fynn’s purified blood.
He pulls out, tugs his cock lazily, until my arousal is mixed with crimson, then roughly fucks me again.
His body presses down on me, blood covers our chests, and his lips find mine. He bites ravenously on my bottom lip, then his tongue explores the roof of my mouth. I sigh contentedly with one arm draped around his neck, the other braided in his hair.
As he continues to pound into me, I feel new heat blooming, and I shift slightly to get better friction.
Accommodating me, he ensures I cannot get away, leaving me no other choice but to chase the shiver that waits at the edge of ruin and rapture.
As it rolls through me, and I curl my toes in delight, I press my lips against his neck, muffling my cry of pleasure.
It doesn’t take long before Reiner pursues his own trembling brink of release, and he lets out a deep growl while he shoots his hot load deep inside me.
I watch him as his control unravels, a sheen of sweat coating his forehead, and he’s never been more beautiful to me than now.
Both of our chests are rising and falling together as he lies next to me. Blood mingles with our hair, changing his light hair to a bright red, while mine deepens in color.
“Red definitely is your color,” he says with a smirk, and I grin back at him.
“Apart from your hair, it looks pretty hot on you too,” I say with a grin.
I lean in and kiss him. He wraps his hand around my neck and deepens the kiss.
After we dress ourselves, Reiner begins the spell work to extract all of Fynn’s blood, not just the remains from his body, but also the essence that crept between the floorboards and soaked itself in our skins.
It’s a peculiar sensation as the blood is collected from my flesh; its touch is featherlight, yet it gives an ecstatic jolt as well.
I can’t wait to use the blood in magic and potions.
“All of it was worth it, Reiner. I knew it,” I murmur against his chest when he’s done.