Lilith
Enough is enough.
Earlier tonight, when I offered Alaric my body, I figured it might be what he needed from me. I hoped the intimacy between us, that deep connection, would ease the immense pain and doubt he couldn’t seem to shake off.
Of course I liked it. Of course I wanted it.
Of fucking course I wouldn’t mind it if he bound and gagged me in the future, then railed me senseless.
On one condition.
That his trust in me would never waver again.
These thoughts run through my head on repeat as I stare at the face of the love of my life. He still lies on his side, still fills me, even if his cock is soft by now.
But he’s nowhere near calm. He’s asleep, yet there’s a line between his thick eyebrows. As if he can’t stop blaming himself for things he absolutely shouldn’t.
It’s killing me, how he aches to be worthy of me.
I’ve already told him he is. I’ve done my best to convince him with looks, pleas, and tears that he can do no wrong in my eyes.
Nothing gets through.
I sigh, pressing my gagged mouth to his. Needing more of him, I squeeze my thighs to get his cock a little harder inside me. I’ve done it over and over for however many hours we’ve been lying like this.
Feeling him thicken inside me comforts me. Having him there, long after he came, is a promise that nothing’s changed. That we, he and I, are solid.
I’m so comforted by it that drowsiness creeps in. My eyes flutter shut. My limbs grow heavy.
No!
That scream inside my head snaps me out of it, and I wriggle back until his cock slips out.
It takes a few seconds without him inside me before my mind clears. As soon as it does, I start working out a plan to save Alaric.
What move would be so drastic that it tears down his walls?
While I consider this, my gaze rakes over his handsome face. The sharp angles. The dark shadows under his eyes. The stubble that’s growing fast.
A whimper almost escapes me as I remember how it chafed my inner thighs. Along with Alaric’s ravenous tongue and fingers pleasuring my pussy, it drove me wild.
Focus!
Right.
“I’ll make you love me again. Starting with this.”
That’s it. That’s what I have to do.
Carve his name into my skin.
I have to do it.
Now.
Quietly, I remove the gag, then shift upward toward the scarf binding my wrist. With one arm and one leg already free, moving across the bed is finally possible.
A sense of triumph spreads beneath my skin like wildfire as the knot at my wrist loosens, the fabric giving way under my fingers.
And though it’s a start, I’m not out of the woods yet. Breath held, my attention splits between Alaric and my ankle as I undo the tie around it.
Close. Close, and…I’m there.
I catch my relieved sigh just in time, locking it inside as I slide off the bed.
Alaric’s cum drips down my thighs as I make my way to the kitchen. The desire to coat my fingers with his seed, then suck them dry is strong.
I’m stronger.
Nothing’s more important than pulling him back from the abyss. Years ago, Alaric fought for me. Stayed at my bedside. Killed my abusive mother.
I haven’t gotten used to that last part yet. I haven’t had a moment to process that she’s actually dead, not when warmth and gratitude are all I feel. So much of it, which is why I’m not going to fail Alaric.
My feet pad silently across the floor until I find what I’m looking for. The same knife Alaric used to carve my name into his skin.
It’s gleaming in the moonlight, lying on a dish towel next to the sink. Knowing Alaric, he probably cleaned it within an inch of its life. He must have sterilized it too.
I’m good to go.
I snatch the knife and sneak back into his bedroom.
Ours.
My sense of mission solidifies the closer I get. Impatience doubles in size.
The need to prove to him that we’re not two people, but one, spreads through my veins.
Just as fast, sadness eclipses my determination.
What if he’s too lost inside his head for my plan to work?
What if he’s truly convinced that he’s one of the bad guys?
What then?
By the time I stand at the doorway to our bedroom, because I don’t want to be alone when I cut myself, I’m shivering, my breath as quick as my pulse.
The trembling in my fingers worsens as I hook them into one of the thin straps of my nightgown.
It’s going to be okay.
Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I suck in a deep breath and power through.
Kind of. The shivering won’t stop, and it’s fine, since—ah, there. The strap falls off my shoulder.
Other side. I move the knife, which suddenly feels heavy, to my other hand. Repeat the motions with the second strap. The feel of it sliding over my sensitive skin makes my breath catch.
Thankfully, the quiet gasp doesn’t wake Alaric.
The gown pools at my feet, and I step out of it and into the bedroom. With an unsteady hand, I press the tip of the knife under my ribs.
I jab the knife in, but I can’t break the skin. Dammit. The trembling.
As I worry my bottom lip, frustration fills my eyes with tears.
You’ve got this, Lil.
Hope’s voice inside my head helps me push through despite the tremors.
Ow!
Fuck. I don’t think I’m doing it right. The cut isn’t surface-level. It’s deeper.
Too deep, it looks like. The blood streaking down my hipbone feels thicker than it should. It’s a heavier trickle than I saw when Alaric carved my name onto himself.
I’ll just have to be more careful from here. And the mess I leave on the floor, I’ll clean it up once I’m done.
Ugh, the A came out too big. And bloody. Shit.
I’m pretty sure I didn’t hit an organ, but—
“Lilith?”
My head shoots up. My eyes are ensnared by the most beautiful blues I’ve ever seen. The angriest ones.
“I’m doing it for us,” I say.
“No!” Alaric doesn’t stay still to watch.
He jumps out of bed, his sharp instincts driving him straight toward me.
“You have to listen, Alaric.” The blade’s tip is already there, right beside the A. “You have to believe me. You’re not alone. You have me.”
The knife never makes it through my skin. My angel’s large hand slaps it from my grip. His attention stays fixed on my face as he kicks the knife behind him.
“What have you done?” One hand cups my cheek, tilting my face up, the other covering the bleeding A. “Lilith. Why? I—fuck. I never wanted this for you. You can’t hurt yourself. Ever.”
“You cut yourself first.” My fingers claw at his neck, drawing his lips to mine. He won’t let me kiss him, though. His eyes are too busy roaming over my face, my stomach. “It’s my turn now. Do you see? Do you understand that I’m not going anywhere?”
Blood spills through Alaric’s fingers, rolling down my stomach. My thigh. One drop even lands on my toe.
I would’ve panicked if it weren’t for him. The way he assesses me with a cold, calculating gaze, it’s like there’s nothing to worry about. Like he’ll fix it in no time.
“I’m yours.” I rise onto my tiptoes to seal my lips to his chin. Then, so he’ll really believe me, I repeat the words he said not so long ago. “You could put a knife to my throat. Hell, you could kill me, and I’d still love you until my dying breath.”
At that, heat flashes across his face.
Understanding dawns on him. The walls are crashing down.
It lasts for a moment.
Then, he’s my doctor all over again.
He lets me go and bends to grab my nightgown. I help him pull it over me, watch him wrench his jeans on, and then I’m up in the air.
“Apply pressure on the wound,” he directs in his physician’s voice as we head to the front door. “Firm pressure, Lilith. Right over it. Don’t lift your hand, even if it hurts.”
“Yes, Dr. Lockwood.”
He looks down at me, making a satisfied sound in the back of his throat when I obey.
“You adorable, beautiful woman.” Amusement gleams in his eyes as he shakes his head. “I fucking love you.”