Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
Know when to stand your ground
and when to retreat.
CIPRIAN
Riven shows me how to get “downstairs,” and I shake my head.
It’s a glorified hatch in the floor, with a staircase so narrow and steep that it wouldn’t pass any human housing code made in the last century.
“Why do you need a cellar?” I mutter.
Riven pretends not to hear me, clearing his throat and looking between us warily. His face glitches twice. “Don’t kill each other down there,” he says. “It would contaminate the food.”
Alistair’s eyes flash red as he scowls at the veydra. “I’m not going to kill him.”
Riven glances at me and raises his eyebrows.
I shrug and step onto the first stair.
It’s creepy as fuck. Riven must have designed this home while reading Dracula and listening to Wagner. That’s how my mom finds her inspiration, at least, and there’s no denying that parts of this house could have been pulled straight from Mallory Casanell’s vision board.
The stairs groan as Alistair follows me down.
When I reach the landing, I’m surprised to find it’s more functional and less Gothic than I expected. There are rows of shelves neatly stocked with food and blankets, and firewood stacked high in the corner.
The same floating lights from upstairs bob and weave around the cellar at random.
Unlike the rest of the safe house, there’s been no attempt down here to make the space homey. The rock floor is jagged—only leveled out in the spots the shelves are bolted into, and the walls curve like the sides of a shallow bowl, as if Riven or Hyacinth used a giant spoon to create the cellar.
Oddly enough, it’s warmer down here than it is upstairs. That makes me suspicious. With our luck, this whole place was built over a volcano that’s primed to blow at any minute.
“I’m prepared to answer any questions you might have,” Alistair says stiffly.
I pivot and look him over.
The angles of his face are harsher than usual. One cheek is lit by a floating light while the other is bathed in shadow. How poetic. It’s perfect for the guy who insists on knowing everyone else’s secrets while protecting his own viciously.
“I don’t have more questions.” I cross my arms and sigh. “I got a pretty clear picture as soon as you told me the butler did it.”
“I want you to know that I didn’t seek the informant out,” he says.
“How could you?” I snort. “They don’t exactly stand out in a crowd. Mazzikin are snooty as fuck, though. I can’t believe they decided to talk to you.”
“What will you do to them?”
“To the mazzikin?” I scoff. “Not a damn thing. We try not to talk about important stuff around them, but it’s kind of hard to be sure if they’re there or not.”
“They don’t like Sheena,” Alistair says.
I laugh. “They don’t like anyone who isn’t a demon. For the longest time, they were mad Dad and Joshua were equal leaders of the enclave. I overheard them plotting against the shifters all the time as a kid.”
Alistair takes a step toward me. “I don’t want to make things worse, but you don’t seem mad about this.”
I erase the space between us. “Oh, I am, but if you’re willing to put your business at risk to make it right, then I’m willing to talk.
” I trail off, unsure about where I’m going with this.
“While those weirdos were searching for us in the woods, I started thinking.” I let my arms drop, annoyed that I can’t find the right words.
“I’ve never been hunted like that,” I admit. “I’ve had my share of problems, but none of them were because I was a demon. Sheena has, though. In fact, everyone on the Fringes has faced more bullshit than I have—”
“I’m not sure that’s true—”
“Hush.” I cover his mouth. “Let me get this out before I lose it again.”
He nods, and I sigh. “Anyway, while you were pulling me away from the edge of the cliff like a godsdamn wheelbarrow, I thought about what Sheena would say.”
I drop my hand from his mouth, and he raises one eyebrow. “What would she say?”
“She would tell me I’m being spoiled. Petty even.
Sheena thinks life’s too short for most grudges.
And she likes you.” I smirk. “Most of the time, at least, but back to the wheelbarrow epiphany. While I was choking on ice pellets and maintaining my nightmare like a fucking god, I realized something.”
Alistair sighs, and his fangs peek over his lower lip. “You didn’t eat any ice, Ciprian.”
“You interrupted me again.”
“I’m sorry. Please continue.”
“I realized that grudges are a privilege reserved for people who aren’t worried about sudden death.
” His blue eyes lock on mine, and I clear my throat.
“And that if you were desperate enough to reveal your source to me, then you really trust me. You trust that I won’t lash out and hurt the mazzikin or run screaming through the Fringes telling everyone how you broke your own rules. ”
Alistair smiles. “Are you sure you don’t want to run screaming through the Fringes? It would be inconvenient for me, but poetic justice for you.”
“Poetry is overrated.” My eyes dip to his mouth. His lips are slightly chapped, and his black hair is hanging loose and wild around his neck. Alistair looks so vampiric right now, he could have been plucked straight from a human mythology textbook.
He says my name softly.
I gulp and swallow around the lump in my throat.
Ten minutes ago, this private conversation seemed like a good idea, but being the full focus of Alistair’s intensity is a lot to handle. He looks like he wants to swallow me whole, and with no more lies between us, there’s nothing holding us back anymore.
I fucking want him.
“You’re right,” he whispers. “I do trust you.”
I shudder. It’s incredible to hear him say it out loud.
The urge to deflect with a joke bubbles up. I swallow it and raise my chin instead. I don’t have to be anyone else right now. Alistair knows me. He knows the good, the bad, and the petty, and he’s still standing here. Staring at me as if he’s starving.
He clears his throat and says, “I’m going to kiss you—”
I slam my lips into his, stealing the first taste for myself before he gets a chance. Electricity rocks me, and I feel the kiss from the tips of my ears to the bottom of my feet.
Alistair growls. Air whips against my ears, and my shoulders hit the curved wall. I barely notice. The kiss is rough and demanding. A claim. I fucking love it. My spine drags against the wall, and I wince. Then Ali’s hand is there, crushed between my body and the rock.
He yanks my sweatshirt over my head and throws it aside like he hates it. His red eyes rake over me. Hungry. Possessive. My skin pebbles as he nips at my collarbone and drags his hands down my chest.
“You’re infuriating,” he rasps. “Do you know that?”
I rock my hips against his and grin as his erection digs into my belly. “No,” I lie. “I’ve never heard that before.”
Alistair grazes my mouth with his thumb, then cups my cock with his other hand. “Those eyes,” he murmurs. “Always laughing at me. And that smart mouth. I’ve been dying to put you on your knees and give you something better to do with it.”
I thrust into his hand as he squeezes my bulge.
“I’ve imagined it for so long, Ciprian.” He traces the hard line with his fingertips, stopping on the sensitive head and drawing a teasing circle on the tip. “Watching you. Dreaming about how good it would feel.”
My cock is throbbing. I need these fucking pants off, but I don’t want to lose my cool.
“You sound like a stalker.” I wink at him and slide down the wall. I’m going to rock his fucking world. If he thinks he was fixated on my mouth before, it’ll be nothing compared to how he’ll feel after I suck the bossiness right out of him.
Faster than a strike of lightning, Alistair’s hand leaves my mouth and circles my throat.
He squeezes, and I freeze—awkwardly locked in a half-squat against the wall. My Adam’s apple bobs frantically against his palm.
“Not today,” he hisses. “This is your fight to win, Casanell. If you won’t run screaming through the Fringes later, you’ll fuck my throat raw now. I can take it, and you deserve it.”
Another pulse of pure heat rolls through me.
My heart skips a beat.
Then Alistair uses his grip on my throat to guide me back to a standing position. My gaze drops to his forearm. There’s a thick vein throbbing there. I wet my lips. His pulse is as fast as mine, but I want it to be faster.
I nod and fumble for the clasp of his jeans, tugging the zipper down slowly. “Only if you show me how badly you want me.”
Alistair nods, releasing my throat to pull his shirt off. Before he can toss it over his shoulder after my hoodie, I take it from him and drop it on the floor at our feet.
The rock is rough, and so am I.
Satisfied he won’t hurt himself, I dip my chin.
Alistair’s eyes flash red, then he’s on his knees. My pants pool around my ankles, and his tongue traces the head of my cock. I rub the tip against his lips, a surge of excitement racing through me when his right fang grazes my sensitive skin.
He’s going to fuck me up, and I can’t wait.
When he rocks back on his heels and opens his mouth, I feed him my length one inch at a time, only stopping when his lips are stretched wide and I’m bumping against the back of his throat.
“Touch yourself,” I say, rolling my hips gently. He wraps his fingers around his cock and gives it a vicious tug. Then he gulps, and I feel it everywhere.
My eyelids flutter shut.
Alistair growls ferociously. My eyes shoot back open, responding instinctively to the warning sound as he lashes me with his tongue and hollows out his cheeks while he sucks.
“No closing my eyes?” I chuckle and gasp as he takes me deeper in response. “Got it. They’ll stay open. Don’t stop.”
I cup the back of his head, enjoying the silky feel of his hair against my fingers. His fang grazes me again, and I gasp, pre-cum leaking directly onto his tongue.
Ali wanted me to fuck his throat raw, but I’m not sure I can.
My dick—all jokes aside—is a lot to handle, and I’ve never been one to get off on hurting someone or making them uncomfortable.
That doesn’t mean I can’t give him something he’s never had before.
Swallowing my nerves, I use my grip on his hair to slow his movements. I want him to hear me clearly. Fuck, I want him to hear me in his dreams later. He’s already fucking obsessive, and I like it. I’ll give him a memory he’ll want to relive every single day for the rest of his life.
“Ali,” I gasp. “Do you remember in the birdcage? You told me something.”
His eyebrows pull together, dark slashes on his handsome face. He licks the head of my cock, but it’s slow and tentative. He’s thinking hard, and I’ve stumped him.
I grin. “You said you wouldn’t bite me until I forgave you.”
Alistair goes impossibly still.
I rake my nails over his scalp, enjoying the control I get from holding my orgasm back. “I forgive you,” I say, enunciating each word carefully as I thrust into his mouth for emphasis.
Then I wait. Fingers trembling in his hair, heart slamming against my ribs.
When his fangs break my skin, Alistair is inconceivably careful.
And I appreciate it. It’s my dick, after all, and I’m pretty fucking fond of it.
There’s a sharp sting that turns to euphoria before I can even flinch. It consumes my entire body, and I wail. There’s no other word to describe the noise. It’s embarrassing, sure, but it’s hard to be embarrassed for long when something feels this godsdamn good.
I want to last forever.
I make it ten seconds at most.
Before I can even warn him, I’m shooting ropes of cum down his throat and babbling incoherently while I’m at it. I sound like I’ve lost my mind.
Fuck, maybe I have.
All I know is that I’ve never experienced pleasure this harshly. It goes on and on and on, crashing over me in waves until my knees buckle.
I chant his name. I don’t know what I’m asking him for, but he figures it out. Alistair’s hands shake as they ease me to the floor with him. Then his lips meet mine, tender and soothing.
“So hot,” he moans. “You’re crazy, Ciprian. Perfectly mental.”
I bask in the praise and arch my neck. “Again,” I demand. “Bite me again.”
He drives his fangs into my neck until they’re buried so deep that I can’t feel anything else.
I shudder as more pleasure rocks me. It’s sharper now that I’ve already come, but I don’t want it to end.
My hand finds Alistair’s cock, heavy, hot, and curled between us.
I’ve barely stroked him twice when he explodes on my stomach, grunting into my neck in a primal way that makes goosebumps spread across my skin.
“Holy shit,” I mutter.
He chuckles, and I shiver as he licks the puncture wounds on my neck closed. My head sags against the wall. Neither of us speaks, even after our breathing returns to normal.
The sweat and cum start to dry on our skin.
I take careful stock of my cock, relieved to see the tiny bite marks have already healed. We sit in silence until Ali finally presses a smacking kiss to my mouth. “That was some fight,” he says. “We should do it again sometime.”
I choke on a laugh.
We dress quietly and climb the stairs the same way, but I can’t keep the smile off my face.
Makeup sex with Alistair is dangerous.
No wonder Celine messes with him so much.