Chapter 8 Daxton #2
Noir studies me with narrowed eyes, realization dawning on her face. “Oh, this is delicious. This is why you've been pacing around like a caged animal for weeks.” She claps her hands together, a smile spreading across her face that makes me nervous. Noir loves nothing more than my discomfort.
“It’s not delicious,” I mutter. “It’s inconvenient.”
“The mighty Thanatos, brought low by a mortal woman.” Noir slides from the couch with feline grace, circling me like prey. “You’re afraid.”
“Fuck—would you keep your voice down…I am not afraid,” I growl, but the words sound hollow.
Noir reaches up, tracing a warm finger along my jaw. “You are. For the first time in your endless existence, you’re afraid of rejection. How…human.”
I grab her wrist, tugging her back into my lap as I sit. “Shut up. We have work to do.” I kiss her with all of the fire and anger I bear for the mortal with hair the color of midnight.
“There he is,” she murmurs, snaking her arms around my neck, fingers tangling in my hair—and in this moment, she’s Mackenzie.
I close my eyes, letting myself indulge in the fantasy for just a moment. Her lips are soft against mine, hungry and demanding in a way that makes my ancient bones ache. But she’s not Mackenzie. No matter how much I wish for it to be.
“You’re thinking about her again,” Noir whispers against my mouth, her words vibrating against my lips. “I can feel it.”
I pull back, scowling. “I’m not.”
“You’ve always been a bad liar. Your entire body goes rigid when you're thinking about her.” Noir shifts in my lap, her weight familiar but not quite right. “What is it about this mortal that has you pining like a lovesick teenager?”
“I don’t pine,” I snap, but even I can hear the defensiveness in my voice.
Noir laughs. “Oh, darling.” She kisses me, harder this time, rolling her hips. “You’re wrapped around her fragile little finger. Now, do better, the mortal’s coming back.”
Screw her.
My hand finds the back of her neck, and I lay her on the couch beside me, kissing her so deeply it gives the illusion we are going for.
‘Holyyyy…shit! I need them both…biblically,’ Stormie groans in her head, but I don’t let up, lifting Noir’s leg around my waist.
“Excuse me,” she chimes, but we don’t pay any attention to her.
Mortals are weird in that way—the more they have to vie for your attention, the more they want it.
“Excuse me!” she chirps again, jealousy threading through her tone. Noir breaks away from my lips, twisting to look at Stormie, a lazy grin spreading across her face.
“Oh, Dax. Doesn’t she look edible?” She chuckles in that seductive way that makes mortals go crazy.
She slides out of my grasp, one heel tapping against the ground, before the other. Her hip swaying in that “fuck me” sort of way. Sauntering behind a trembling Stormie, she runs a finger across her bare collarbone.
“I could eat her alive,” I murmur, dragging my tongue across my fangs. A gasp escapes the female, and I can’t help but chuckle.
Sinking deeper into the couch, I let the cushions envelop me as I stretch out.
My legs fall open without much thought in a lazy sprawl, causing Stormie’s focus to fall just where I want it.
One arm drapes over the back of the couch, the other resting on my cock as I stroke it through my jeans—a silent invitation, a little test to see if she’ll take what’s offered… daring her to dance with death.
“S-shouldn’t we get going?” Her voice trembles.
“Should we?” Noir whispers, her fingers trailing a line along Stormie’s leg. The mortal says one thing, but the goosebumps that blossom along her golden skin tell a whole different story.
“I—um...” she stutters, breathing shallow, eyes glued to my hand.
“Have you ever been with a woman before?” I ask the shaky little thing.
“No,” she admits, her cheek glowing scarlet as she looks away. “Every time I try to have sex with…” She trails off, lost in thought, before her eyes snap mine again. “I don’t think she’s into me.”
“Hmmm,” Noir hums. Her hand disappears under her skirt, causing Stormie to suck in a sharp breath. “Right now…” Noir purrs, words laced with unmistakable heat. “We’re into you.”
She lifts Stormie’s black silk skirt—more of a decoration than actual clothing, really—giving me a perfect view of the way her fingers dip into Stormie’s slick pussy, but none of it works for me.
Not the way Noir kisses her neck, not the breathy moan that rolls out of the mortal—all I want is the black abyss of Mackenzie’s stare burning into me.
Even as Noir's heated gaze flicks to me, her hips swaying as she leads Stormie over to me—this should be a dream—I feel absolutely nothing.
Noir straddles my left thigh, nudging Stormie to straddle the other.
One hand on Noir’s firm ass, my finger nestled under Stormie’s chin, I lift her flushed face to meet my gaze as I reassure her, “I want you.” The truth is, I do, although not the way I think she’s hoping.
Her soul belongs to me, and I will claim it—the least I can do is let her go out with a bang. “Anyone would be a fool not to.”
Noir leans close, kissing my neck as I bring Stormie’s lips to mine, and still…
nothing. But I press on as Noir’s skilled fingers work my belt buckle open without faltering, and she slides my zipper down right after.
I should be consumed by desire, by the heat of two beautiful women on my lap, but it feels like I’m just going through the motions.
Stormie’s mouth is eager against mine, inexperienced but enthusiastic, tasting of cherry lip gloss and fear. That familiar cocktail should awaken my hunger, but it’s flat, tasteless. Because all I keep thinking about is if Mackenzie’s lips taste sweet, too.
Noir guides Stormie’s trembling hand into my jeans to stroke me. Her fingers wrap around me, tentative at first, then with growing confidence as Noir whispers instructions in her ear.
As I tip my head back, offering the performance expected of me, a groan escapes my lips—practiced, hollow—I imagine it’s Mackenzie’s warm hands on me.
“Fuck,” I groan as Stormie grinds against my thigh, her wetness seeping through the denim. “That’s it. Show me how much you want me, pretty girl.”
Noir’s tongue traces the shell of my ear, her fangs grazing just enough to draw a bead of blood she licks up. “I can taste your distraction,” she whispers, too low for the mortal to hear. “I want her. Try harder.”
I grab a fist of her hair and tug her head back, my tongue trailing along the hollow of her throat until I find her ear. “I am,” I growl. “I could kill her now if you prefer.”
On my other side, my fingers slip under Stormie’s skirt, working overtime, thrusting in and out of Stormie’s warm cunt so she is too distracted to notice our spat. Noir smirks at me, and I know I’m in trouble when she swats my hand away, slipping off my lap.
She tugs Stormie off by her hair, watching me with that same mischievous smirk. “Listen to me, baby. My friend is having a hard time getting in the mood,” she rumbles in her ear, unzipping Stormie’s skirt before letting it fall to the floor in front of me.
The mortal listens carefully, quivering as Noir removes her hot pink corset next, freeing perky teardrop breasts with nipples like Hershey’s kisses.
“He’s having a hard time getting over someone who doesn’t want him.
So, we’re gonna put on a show until he decides to get over her, and under us, would you like that?
” she asks, to which Stormie eagerly nods.
“Good.” Noir steps around the naked, quivering mortal, putting on the show she promised with a striptease, turning around to give me a full view of her ass in a lacy black thong. She blows me a kiss between her thighs after tugging it to the floor.
“Come here, Storm,” she coos, lifting an open palm, which Stormie hesitates to take, but finally slips a shaky hand in. She pulls her close, whispering in her ear, “Sit right next to him, so he can watch me taste your sweet little cunt.”
Stormie looks between us nervously, then settles beside me on the couch, her naked body radiating heat against my arm as Noir drops to her knees, and I can’t even lie, my eyes follow, focusing on the scene unfolding before me rather than the memory of the woman who’s been haunting me.
There is something predatory in Noir’s dark gaze as they flick up to mine that makes my cock twitch. “You’re going to watch every second,” Noir commands me, her voice husky with desire. “And when you’re ready to stop being pathetic, you can join us.”
I swallow hard, watching her spread Stormie’s thighs until they quiver with tension.
Noir’s eyes—black as sin—lock onto mine, burning with challenge as she descends.
Her tongue strikes like a serpent, circling Stormie’s swollen clit before claiming it between her lips.
And the mortal’s back arches violently off the couch, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as her eyes squeeze shut.
Her hand instinctively reaches for mine, squeezing my fingers as Noir begins to devour her with slow, deliberate strokes.
And I can’t tear my eyes away from the scene before me, my own breathing growing ragged as I watch. Stormie’s grip on my hand tightens with each pass of Noir’s tongue, her knuckles turning pale as pleasure ripples through her body.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, my free hand clenching into a fist against my thigh.
Noir pauses, lifting her glistening mouth just enough to speak. “That’s it. Watch her come apart.” Her fingers replace her tongue, sliding inside Stormie with practiced ease. “Tell him how good it feels, baby girl.”
I know Noir’s playing me like a goddamn fiddle, but I can’t manage to care as Stormie’s eyes flutter open, her pupils blown wide.
“So...so good,” she pants, her lips inches from mine, her breath hot against my skin. “Please...touch me.”
My resolve crumbles like a house of cards. I grip Stormie’s hip with my free hand, feeling her warm skin beneath my palm. The contact sends electricity through my veins, awakening something primal I’ve been trying to bury.
“Mhmm,” Noir purrs at me, her fingers still working inside Stormie. “Stop fighting it.”
And I do, pulling Stormie closer, my mouth finding hers in a hungry kiss that swallows her moans.
She tastes of fear and desperation—a cocktail that has me moaning into her mouth.
Her body trembles against mine as Noir’s fingers push her closer to the edge, and I can feel the exact moment Stormie starts to unravel.
“Fuck, I’m—” she gasps against my lips, her nails digging crescents into my forearm.
“Let go,” I murmur, watching her face contort with pleasure, her lips parted, eyes hooded.
Noir meets my gaze over Stormie’s shoulder, a victorious smirk playing across her perfect lips.
“Good boy,” she mouths silently, and despite myself, it fucks my head up, and now all I want is to hear her say it again, feel her skin on mine.
After centuries together, she knows just what to do to make me crumble.
As Stormie comes undone between us—nothing more than a pawn in our game, her body quakes, breath catching in short, desperate gasps. I hold her through it, whispering, “Look how pretty she is when she comes for us. That’s it, baby girl, don’t hold back.”
My own need pulses painfully, demanding attention I’m not sure I deserve—even as my thumb strokes over Stormie’s full lips, I still think about the only one I need right now.
But Noir is right, no matter how badly I want her, I can’t have her—and she would never want something as damned and cruel as me.
Sex is one thing, I have tempted many mortals in my existence, but being with me—loving me—that’s a whole different story.
“Your turn,” Noir purrs, drawing my focus out of my head. She slides her glistening fingers free of Stormie, watching me with those knowing eyes. “Let us take care of you.”
I shake my head, even as my body screams for release. “I’m fine.”
“Liar,” she whispers, her hand already sliding down my stomach. “Your pulse is racing, and I can feel how hard you are.”
Stormie curls against my side, her lips finding my neck with featherlight kisses that make me shiver. “Please,” she murmurs. “Let us make you feel good.”
I shut my eyes, fighting the war between what my body craves and what my heart wants.
Someone else’s face flashes behind my closed eyelids—forbidden, just out of reach.
And all at once, I come to a resolve. My hand reaches into my pocket, and before either of them can react, I pull my blade out, flick it open, and slash open Stormie’s throat.
It—this, the empty writhing of bodies—will never be enough.
I knew it from the moment I tasted the irreverent mortal on my tongue.
And I will always love Noir beyond words, but now the obvious truth I’ve been trying to push away is so clear.
I felt it the moment I saw her. The bondfyre.
The fire that catches deep in an immortal’s veins when they have met their mate.
Pushing it away has only made it worse; it’s subtle at first, like a flutter in your belly, a curiosity you can’t shake.
But the moment you acknowledge it—
A deep curtain of crimson flows, pumping from Stormie’s carotid artery and splattering across Noir’s beautifully made-up face.
“What the fuck?!” Noir screeches as I adjust my pants, stepping past her to clean my blade in the sink across the room, watching as her naked form storms up behind me out of the corner of my eye.
“We came to collect her, and now we have,” I say, my ice-cold eyes finding my best friend’s.
“Do you have to suck the fun out of everything?”
I turn to face her as my blade catches fire, drying itself in the middle of my palm—the damn thing has a mind of its own, and if it detests something, I’ll know. It was all too eager to dispatch Stormie; her soul barely put up a fight as we claimed her.
“Get dressed. Get rid of the body.” I shoulder past her. “I’ll be out in the hall.”
“Fun sucker!” she yells after me, stomping her heel in a tantrum.