Chapter 33
ALEK
Fuck. FUCK. Feloré was kissing me.
Yes. Bed him. Take him. EAT HIM—no. Nonononono.
But there was no fighting with him kissing me so deeply, like he wanted it as much as me. There was no running.
His mouth was on mine. Soft and inviting. I had to give in. I had to kiss him back.
My inhale was sharp as I parted my lips, working my jaw, cupping his face to take his mouth with mine. Then I felt it.
My chest heated as a blaze of arctic white, of pure healing energy blasted down my throat, straight into my core.
I gasped. I took from the well of white light, swallowing it, bathing in its warmth like it was a life connection from him to me and so deep and stunning, unlike anything I’d ever felt.
It was beautiful. Oh, my gods, it was so devastatingly beautiful and so satiating that tears stung my eyes. This was it. He was the end to my pain.
I jerked violently.
Jarring streaks of light assaulted my vision as the carnal monster inside me roared to life. It was so hard and so intense that I nearly crushed his body into me while a voice demanded I eat. Eat. EAT.
It was like a searing burn without the pain. A lightning strike without the destruction. It was the opposite of destructive. It was only a kiss, but I could see the way. I could taste the life inside him.
I stormed forward, walking him backward until he crashed into the vanity. I gripped his tight waist, growling as I lifted him onto it, shoving his legs apart, wedging my pelvis tight against his. He moaned into my mouth as I took and took and TOOK.
“Yes,” he said, somewhere between a whisper and a plea. “My dark fucking prince. Drink me.”
It was so natural, the most natural thing in the world, and for so long, I’d been tortured. Now I was eating, and he was giving, his body like a concession of a thousand different energies, all so fucking juicy.
“Alek,” he breathed, clawing his fingernails into my shoulders. “Get me naked.”
Gods, yes. Fuck, yes. The monster was fully ruling my mouth, and it barely let my lips budge from his skin even as I rushed his shirt off him, peeling it over his head while he panted.
I yanked his silken pants down with the fury of a thunderstorm, tugging them off as fast as I could, because each second I spent gone from his skin was a torturous fucking lifetime.
But then he was naked. He was naked, and I was back in between his legs, and I could barely comprehend what I’d been gifted. How I’d blinked, and here he was with creamy skin upon lean muscles dressed in tight, black undergarments.
I wanted those off too—but eat; EAT—so I wedged my fingers down the back of them to squeeze his ass as I lashed my long tongue around his ear and neck, drinking, swallowing, feeding from his splendid white essence.
“I want you inside me,” he whispered in Vultaen, so needy and delicious.
I snarled, yanking him to my mouth, pressing my lips against his ear. “You want my cock, baby?”
“I want it. So badly I might scream.”
I took his mouth again, slipping a finger down his ass, rubbing it against his hole. “Then fucking scream.”
He didn’t. Instead, he whimpered. But the sound was devastating to my senses, and I slammed a fist against the mirror hard enough for it to splinter as I took his mouth again, drinking him harder.
“Alek, hurry,” his sweet voice begged. He was a trembling wreck as he clutched onto my shoulders, scratching me closer. “Hurry and fuck me.”
Yes. I had to. I had to be inside him—he wanted me inside him—drinking from his well, feeling his lean, muscular body slide around my cock, gripping it in tight warmth like I knew it would.
I fumbled with the ties on my trousers as a reddened need pulsed through me.
“Hurry.” His fingernails scraped at the stone of the vanity. “I can’t wait any longer.”
The thin rope ripped the front of my trousers when I yanked it free.
“Alek,” he panted, parting his legs wider. “I feel like I’m going to die without it.”
I.
Fucking.
Froze.
My hands clenched into fists hard enough to sprain my fingers.
Die. Die. Die. Die.
That word.
Every muscle in my stomach choked tight as I forced myself to blink. To think.
“What are you doing?” he asked, so breathy, his fingers so desperate as they cupped my face, pulling me in to kiss me. “Come on—”
I slammed my hand over his mouth and squeezed my eyes shut.
Don’t look at him. Don’t hear him. Control. I needed CONTROL.
But the monster was clawing my composure to ribbons, scratching at my insides with its whetted nails. The weight of his desire was like molten metal in my veins as he rolled his body against mine, a hypnotic dance that would overpower the best of my intentions.
“Feloré,” I managed through clenched teeth. “You have to listen. This is not you—”
“It is me,” he said, wrestling my palm away. “I’ve never felt more like myself. I know what I want. I want you—”
I pressed my hand against his mouth, the contour of his lips flush against my palm as he begged in Vultaen, as I winced at the pain carving inside the flesh of my abdomen exactly the price of everything I was giving up.
My vision was barely clear enough to see through the fog of desire crowding it, but I had to control myself. I had to control him.
I was out of options. Out of choices. All I could do was hurt him.
I gripped his hair by the roots, yanked his ear to my mouth, and whispered through my fraying control, “Forgive me, darling.”
Then I yelled.
It was my natural voice, and I did it loud enough that he instantly crumbled, crying out in pain, his poor body retracting into a curled spine as his palms pressed against his ears as if he could keep the sound from penetrating his skull. But he probably couldn’t even think.
My footsteps were stubborn and clunky, my body fighting each step I took as I stumbled toward the door while he swayed on his feet, staggering from the vanity, still clutching his ears.
We locked eyes. He screamed my name. But it was too late.
I was already gone, already forcing myself to slam the door hard enough to rattle the mirrors in their frames.
Again, he shouted my name. Again. My heart ached and lashed around my chest as I held the doorknob when he tried to twist it open, but it was useless. I was stronger.
“Alek,” he said, his voice pleading and raw. “No, no, no, no. Fucking open it. Please. You don’t understand.”
My forehead fell to the door with a thud as I held the knob, my teeth clenched so tightly they might shatter.
But something had to shatter. Him. Or me.