Chapter 5 Kaios #2
I take her in, memorizing every detail as if that alone could satiate this hunger. Spoiler: It never does.
She shifts, the sheets tangled between her plush thighs, and a soft moan slips from her lips. A deep crease sets itself in the middle of her brow—her face twists in struggle.
The onset of another nightmare.
After the first night, I snuck in to make sure she took her meds by putting them in her water, and I kept doing it every night. She’d forget otherwise, and her exhaustion the next day would eat her alive.
I’m not sure why that matters to me, but I just noticed she gets through her days better when she sleeps soundly. For some reason, any sight of her discomfort unsettles me.
An ache stirs deep in my chest, and I instantly think of all the ways I can make her feel better. But none of the thoughts help the restraint I am currently at war with.
Blood rushes south as I imagine what it’d be like to sink between her thighs, and chase away every bad dream. Lightly, I let my thumb brush over her bottom lip, something I’ve wanted to do since I first saw her mouth form those helpless shapes when she dreams.
She sighs, the tension in her body uncoiling as she melts into my touch.
She really shouldn’t do that.
I could never provide the type of safety she needs. I can only give her what her body yearns for: release.
While she wrestles with the shadows clawing through her dreams, I want her to know—nothing in her nightmares could ever compare to the monsters inside me.
I lean closer, barely a breath away, her pain thick in my chest as if it were my own. Her scent batters my nostrils, the sweetest dark cherries intermingled with something warm. She smells fucking edible.
My eyes roll back as I inhale, doing my best to get a handle on the fuckers clanking around in my head.
‘Just let me give it a little lick.’ Cain begs. ‘I swear to God I’ll be good.’
Fucking Liar.
He wouldn’t know how to stop. I can feel his claws scratching at the door; he’s practically chomping at the bit. I recenter myself, letting out a deep breath that sounds more like a growl than anything else.
Just as I start to pull away, her eyes flutter open, taking me by surprise. Two big molten chocolate pools settle on me, but she doesn’t scream or pull away. “Please…” She whispers.
Her hands clutch my hoodie, pulling me closer again, and a shock jolts through me.
“Please, what, Naomi?” I rasp, fighting every instinct telling me to sink onto the bed, to cover her in my depravity. “What do you need?”
“Touch me,” she breathes, her voice raw, tangled with something else—something that mirrors the rapture thundering in my chest. “I feel like I’m on fire. Please…”
‘Fuck, she wants it.’ Cain ticks. ‘I say we give the lady what she wants…me.’
‘Narcissist,’ Ryzen grumbles. I don’t know how I can concentrate with them constantly bickering. Learning how to keep my own thoughts straight took years of practice, and still sometimes I wish they would…Shut. The. Fuck. Up.
Wrangling every image Cain tries to shove into my head, I concentrate on the way her chest heaves, counting her breaths to center me.
Something about her presence calms me, and it almost feels like my beasts concede to her too—they get oddly silent—or maybe they are just trying to figure her out too.
“Touch you? You really don’t know what you’re asking for, Gorgeous.” My words come out in the casual way I’d been hoping for, almost teasing, causing a hint of hesitation to creep onto her beautiful features.
“I do,” She lifts her chin, to appear braver than I know she is right now, but I see straight through her facade.
“Do you?” I tilt my head, stepping closer, my shadow stretching over her. “You just woke up to a stranger in your bedroom, and you aren’t afraid?”
This is the most unprecedented thing that could have happened, and of all the nights, it had to happen on the one when I can barely keep these fuckers contained.
The drugs usually keep her asleep, but then again, I’ve never touched her before.
She holds my gaze, defiance mixed with something else, something soft, almost vulnerable. “Maybe I’m tired of being afraid,” she replies, her voice trembling slightly. Her eyes are a bit glazed over, but not from sleep—lust stares back at me. “Touch me again. Please.”
Her eyes seem to scan my mask, as if she could sense the turmoil boiling just beneath my calm exterior. Her gaze lingers on my twitching fingers and the erratic rise and fall of my chest.
My mind races, replaying every word I might have accidentally let slip, each one a potential trigger for alarm.
Yet, she remains composed, her expression unbothered by the masked 6’ 6” man standing inches from her.
Why isn’t she panicking? What is it about this woman that keeps her so unnervingly steady in the face of potential danger?
Maybe she’s fucked up...like me.
I chuckle, a dark sound that makes her recoil just a bit. “You don’t even know me.” I can see her wavering, caught between trust and instinct. “You have no idea what I could do to you.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t care.”
Every rational thought I have screams to walk away, but the desperation in her eyes, her body’s silent plea… It breaks me. Her fingers slip down to her thighs, a damp spot already forming on those barely-there shorts, and my jaw clenches.
I can taste Cain’s lust in my throat. ‘LET. ME. HAVE. HER!!!’
His voice rips through me, striking every nerve-ending in my body, rattling my very core. I shudder when he almost breaks free.
I’ll only ruin her.
Her whole body trembles, eyes fixed on me, which only makes the fuckers thrash even more. I lean closer, watching her flinch, and a satisfied smirk crosses my lips as the fear deepens in her gaze.
“You should scream.” I drop my masked face just inches from her lips.
“You should call for your brothers, save yourself from me.” I mean that shit with every bone in my body, even as she shakes her head—no.
Her eyes glisten in the moonlight, her sweet exhales—raw and warm— seeping through my mask in a way that almost capsizes me, my dick pressing hard against the seam of my zipper.
“What’s your damage, Gorgeous?” I say, voice low, taunting.
She doesn’t respond, pressing her lips together tightly. But she glares at me, hot waves of anger rolling off her.
I tilt my head to the side, admiring the way she subtly slips closer to me. Most women would have started to panic several minutes ago, but fear only makes her wetter. “I don’t know what’s more pathetic—how badly you want to be fucked, or that you would let a stranger do it.”
Her lips part, and I can hear her shaky breaths, but still her eyes never leave mine. “Fuck you.”
There’s bravery in her, something tempting me to push further.
I murmur, dark and slow, “If I did, you wouldn’t just lose your breath—you’d lose your mind.
I’d ruin you in ways you’d thank me for and curse me for at the same fucking time.
I’d unmake you. Your mind, your body, your sweet little sense of sanity—it’d all unravel, just for me.
Not because I’d take it, but because you’d give it.
Willingly. Over and over. Until you didn’t even know where you ended and I began.
” A sharp grin tugs at my lips when I see her resolve start to waver.
She has no idea what she’s gotten herself into.
“So go ahead, tempt me. But just know, when you fall apart, there’s no putting you back together.
So, tell me, gorgeous—are you ready to lose yourself in me? ”
“I…” she swallows so hard her throat bobs.
I reach out, my thumb brushing her neck, and watch as she shudders, her pulse racing under my touch. “You don’t want me here. And if you do… well, maybe you’re not as innocent as you look.”
I see the glimmer of something fragile in her eyes, something that tells me she wants this no matter how scared she is. But I won’t give it to her, not yet.
Even if my patience is wearing thin, I want her. Not in the fairy tale narrative society pushes. No, I want to consume her, because without her even knowing it, she is mine, and I’m not giving her shit until she’s sure she wants it, until she begs for it.
“You don’t want this…” I pull back with a twisted grin, watching the disappointment tighten her expression as I start to turn away. “…not yet.”
“Wait.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, desperation slipping through. “Don’t… don’t leave.” I stop, glancing over my shoulder, and I’m not sure she can see the flash of danger in my eyes. She is testing every ounce of restraint I have left in me.
She has no idea what she’s asking for, how badly I want to make her scream for me. “Careful what you ask for,” I warn again, my voice a dark promise.
She whispers, suddenly sounding so small, so broken. “Don’t leave me alone,” she says, her voice cracking, hands stretching toward me like I’m the only lifeline she has. And in that moment, I see her soul; it’s just like mine. Mutilated. Battered.
And though I can already feel the stirrings of regret creeping into the quiet recesses of my mind, whispering that I'll despise myself for this later—I walk out the door.