Chapter 16
Before sleep buried me, warm fingertips traced curves into my hips that felt similar to hearts.
I asked him about the name he keeps calling me—ma belle ame.
He had told me that it means “my beautiful soul.” So, I knew the only one who could hear him was me, but all the same, I charged into the bathroom to shut him up, only to be met with the biggest helping of morning wood I’ve ever seen.
I’m starting to think this man might actually be trying to kill me after all.
But would death by dick be so bad,when it’s a dick as nice as his?
I’m beginning to think the afterlife might suit me perfectly.
Despite a bit of apprehension, and some unanswered questions that I need to get to the bottom of—his dick alone could definitely be a swaying factor.
At around half past nine, I say my goodbyes to my mother and sister—neither of whom sees him sitting on the kitchen counter. After kissing me on one cheek and a light pat on the other, my mom drifts into the living room, leaving my sister and me alone to talk.
“Call me when you get back to campus?” Cadence squeezes me so tight I can’t breathe—I don’t have the energy to fight off the overwhelming amount of love thanks to Daxton’s sex-a-thon. Who needs CrossFit when I have him?
I hear him chuckle just behind me, and I’m almost certain it’s because he’s in my head again. In the next breath, something catches me off guard—his voice seeps into my thoughts like a seductive venom.‘Just wait until I get you alone again. You’ll see every star in all of the Underworld.’
My body stutters, my knees buckling under the weight of a phantom caress along my spine.
“Hey, you okay?” Cadence’s voice breaks through my trance as she pulls back to study me.
It takes several tries to find my words. “Y-yeah, I’m good. I’m good,” I reassure her, and the crease in her brow softens. “Okay. I’m going to head out.”
“Okay.” She frowns.
“Maybe if you stopped by more often, you wouldn’t miss so much,” I quip, giving her a cheesy grin as we walk to the front door, Daxton no more than a shadow behind us.
“Yeah, well, after what I heard last night, I don’t think I’ll be home for a while.”
“You should be used to the storm by now, Cady bear,” I say, pinching her cheek as she opens the front door.
“You know damn well I wasn’t talking about the storm.” She rolls her eyes, swatting my hand away. “Look, Mack, I’m all about self-care, but Dios mio, that’s got to be some powerful vibrator.”
I can feel my cheeks start to burn, “I-I don’t…”
“Aww, no need to be embarrassed, widdle Kenzie!” she coos, reaching out to pinch my cheek now.
But I storm out before she can.“Aye,” she calls after me, and I look back to see Daxton slip past her with a shit-eating grin on his face, broad shoulders bobbing as he chuckles.
“Send me the link!” That only makes him laugh harder, full-on tears sparkling in his ocean blue eyes.
Great! Now I have to ride with his insufferable ass back to campus. But I guess the one good thing on this day is that I am confident that neither my mother nor sister will be dying anytime soon.
“Wait, will they?” I ask, as I slip behind the steering wheel, Daxton, appearing in the seat beside me without opening the door.
“Will theyyy…?”
“All right, let’s not act like you weren’t listening to my thoughts.” I huff as my engine roars to life, and I reverse out of the driveway.
“Pull over,” he commands, and I want to know who the fuck he’s talking to in that tone.
“Mackenzie,” he growls. “Pull the fucking car over now.”
I don’t even bother to argue, rolling my old Bronco to a stop two houses down—I park in front of a withered abandoned two-story that never seems to be lived in for too long.
And I know exactly why—I always sense them before I see them.
Two souls stand in the window, looking down at us as if we were the beacons to end their misery, salvation in every sense of the word.
I’ve come to this house many times, witnessed the spirits whispering as I practiced my tarot.
I think they are the reason I’ve gotten so good at it.
“Wait here.” His voice bulldozes through fond memories.
Now, that makes me want to smack him. But it also makes me want to fuck him. Shifting the car into park, I hop out of the truck.
“Of course not, why would you listen?” he huffs but doesn’t try to keep me from going in with him.
As soon as I make it to the sidewalk, I follow him through a rusted iron gate and down a cracked pavement walkway.
Weeds shoot out of the stone, life reclaiming decay.
Past a weathered white door, paint cracked from poor upkeep, a soul in the foyer gasps as if he had been waiting; a young boy, no more than seventeen, in wire-framed glasses.
“Everyone get the fuck out,” Daxton growls. He doesn’t have to tell them twice; they all rush toward him. A crazed stampede eager to be released. He tries to tug his hand away, but I don’t let him.
“You never have to do this alone again.” I look up into his eyes, and there is silence in the storm, a stillness that was never there before.
Somewhere in the midst of all of this, I’ll be his solace.
I’ll be his balance. And when it’s over, we both exhale.
But I can see it in his eyes; they still sparkle even in the dim light as if the normal toll it takes seems to be lessened, and while I’m new to this, I’m beginning to understand why—I was made to love him.
I’m not sure I think the God of Death is the other half of my soul, if you believe in twin flames and all that, but I believe we mean something to each other, more than one night of earth-shattering, soul-stealing sex.
“You didn’t have to come in,” he says, his voice softening slightly, the edges of his anger smoothing.
“Yes, I did.” I squeeze his hand, feeling his warmth against my palm. No words pass between us, but I know he can feel it too—the perfectly imperfect symmetry between us.
The house creaks around us, settling into its emptiness. It feels different now—lighter somehow, like the air can finally circulate without bumping into lost souls at every turn, almost like it can breathe again.
He studies me, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not afraid of this? Of me?”
I laugh, the sound echoing in the empty foyer. “I talk to the dead and have premonitions. You’re just another flavor of weird for me. What’s another little plot twist?”
“I’m a plot twist?” He scoffs.
“That’s right, my little plot twist.” I reach up, running an index finger under his chin.
“Ew, don’t call me that.” He grimaces, but then smirks, capturing my hand before kissing the back of it. “It’s cheesy.”
“You just kissed the back of my hand like some kind of knight in shining armor. And I’m cheesy?”
“You know, you have a lot of mouth for someone in your predicament.”
“What predicament?”
Almost as if damning myself, I hear the metallic rattle of chains slither up beside me.
Before I can even process what’s happening, he whistles, and they surge forward—snaking around my thighs, winding up my body, climbing up my arms—lifting me off the ground like some sort of magic sex swing. “H-holy shit.”
“There is nothing holy about what I’m going to do to you.”
Heat floods my body, a delicious anticipation making my heart stutter. I’m suspended in the air, completely at his mercy—and somehow, that’s exactly where I want to be. The chains grip me firmly without any pain, their cool metal a sharp contrast against my flushed, burning skin.
“Is this the part where I beg?” I ask, my voice huskier than I intended.
He circles me slowly, admiring his handiwork. “You don’t strike me as the begging type.”
“You'd be surprised what I’m capable of under the right…circumstances.”
His fingers trace the chains where they press against my thigh, sending a shiver through me. “I’m counting on surprising you, actually.”
“Is that supposed to scare me?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the hammering of my heart. “Because I’ve got to say, your whole magic act needs work.”
He presses closer, each step deliberate, predatory. And the chains adjust with a life of their own, spreading my legs wider, leaving me completely vulnerable to whatever he has planned.
“You talk too much, he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble that I feel in my bones. “Always have a comeback, don’t you?”
“It’s part of my charm.”
“It’s that same charm that’s going to make this so much more satisfying.” He slides a finger beneath my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. His eyes are a vicious, glowing storm that makes my stomach clench. “But have to ask, do you think it’s working?”
“What?” I manage, suddenly aware of how dry my mouth has become.
“The charm.” His hand slides up my arm, leaving goosebumps along the way. “Because from where I’m standing, I’d say…not so good.”
I take a deep breath, determined to get my brain to think straight. “You know, most people buy me dinner first before chaining me up.”
“I don’t think most people know what to do with you.” He leans in, his breath soft against my ear. “But I do.”
The chains tighten slightly, a gentle reminder of my position. And I test them again, finding no give. Whatever magic he’s using, it’s strong. He starts to unbuckle his belt, his hand gliding along my fishnet-covered thigh—the chains shift again, laying me back, spreading me wider for him.
His thumb traces the damp cotton between my legs, and my hips buck involuntarily.
“I’m innovative.” The wink he gives me makes my stomach flip.
“And your body seems to appreciate my creativity.” Fabric tears with a violent rip as he creates a hole in my tights.
The metallic click of his knife opening sends a shiver down my spine before cold steel presses against my throat.
“Are you going to be a good girl, goddess? Or do you only surrender when I make you bleed for me?”
A vision slams into me—my naked back arching off silk sheets, his weight pinning me down, sharp fangs piercing my neck as my eyes roll back, lips parted in a silent scream of pleasure. The scene dissolves like smoke, leaving only his knowing smirk.
My pulse hammers against the blade. “What was that?” The words escape as barely a whisper.
His pupils dilate until his eyes are nearly black. “That was us, through my eyes.” He leans over me, his breath warms my ear. “My mark lets you glimpse what I choose to share, Mackenzie. The effects will wear off once you’re healed. If we were tethered, all that we are would be one.”
“Tethered?” My throat bobs, and I feel the blade’s bite against my skin with the movement.
The sound of his zipper lowering makes me shiver.
The ink-black chains give me away as his blade glides between my breasts and over my navel, and cold steel stops on my clit, right over the damp fabric between my thighs.
He presses the metal flat against it, circling slowly until I’m a trembling mess and too weak to hold up my head.
“Oh my fuck…Daxton, please,” I pant, breathlessly, my head lolling back. “Stop teasing me.”
“Then, stop being a brat,” he commands. Before I can blink, he slips the knife under the fabric along my hip, cutting it clean on each side.
Flipping his knife closed, he shoves it in his back pocket before tugging my panties from the gaping hole he ripped in my fishnets.
“Open your mouth, goddess,” he coos, and my eyebrows rise. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
When I oblige without a fight, the corner of his mouth curves into a smirk. “Good girl.” He does exactly what I think he’s going to, the sinful taste of me melting onto my tongue as he stuffs the fabric into my mouth.
“I’ve got to keep you quiet somehow, you’re so loud you’ll alert the whole neighborhood.
” He chuckles, and I roll my eyes. “Now, what did I say about rolling those pretty eyes?” He licks his bottom lip, his fang biting into it as he narrows his eyes.
“You want to see what it’s like to be tethered to me?
” he purrs in a way that makes my stomach clench. “Let me show you.”
He starts to press into me slowly, but he enters me in one killing blow.
And the stars that danced behind my eyes last night intensify, the chains rattling as he thrusts into me.
But I can barely hear them; I’m transported to another plane of existence.
No longer in this room, or in this body—somehow experiencing his memories, his feelings.
I see flashes of centuries passing—dark forests, candlelit chambers, battles in moonlight.
Blood and passion intermingle as his life unfolds around me.
I feel his hunger, his loneliness, the weight of immortality pressing down through endless years.
And beneath it all, a searching, a yearning for something lost.
“Do you feel it?” His voice penetrates the visions, resonating through my entire being. “This is only but a taste of what we would share.”
I gasp as a particularly intense memory floods through me—the first time he took a life, the guilt and power that surged through him.
The euphoria of immortality clashing with the burden of watching everyone wither and die.
I see it all through his eyes, feeling what he feels.
The intensity is overwhelming—a kaleidoscope of sensations that are beyond this realm.
I can feel his need, his possessiveness, the dark thrill he gets from claiming me.
“Oh God,” I scream, words muffled. My back arches higher as our connection bleeds into the physical.
“Not God,” he growls against my ear. “Just me, only me.”
The experience is maddening—feeling him inside me while simultaneously feeling what it’s like to be inside me. The pleasure loops between us, amplifying with each thrust. I can feel his satisfaction at my surrender, the primal urge to mark me completely.
His thoughts flood my mind without filter—‘mine, she’s finally mine, fucking perfect, you are worth all the pain—if I had to do it again to find you, I would do it in a heartbeat.’
My fingers clutch desperately at the chains binding me as the sensations build to an impossible height. I’m drowning in this, drowning in us, drowning in him—
I’m the fucking Titanic…and I’m going down with him.