31. Rourke
Rourke
When will I stop testing my strength? With every breath, my devotion deepens, and I’m certain I’ll never claw out of my desperate haze.
I’m depriving myself, seeing how long I can last without being in her presence, but it’s always worse this way.
After a day or two, I’m more ravenous than before. Tonight is no different.
Sharing her with my brother cleared away another layer of fog within me, making me more human and less monstrous.
My appearance is still the same. My scales, my hook, my reptilian eye will never go away.
My heart may be from the beast that nearly killed me as a child, but Belle has a way of making even that part of me into something new, better than ever before.
Peter appeared to enjoy sharing Belle, his face melting into ecstasy, matching my own pumps, but then he fled, anger radiating behind him in heavy streams. He seems similarly attached to my pixie, yet perhaps he doesn’t share the same zeal, unwilling to comply with her every wish with overwhelming joy.
Watching her take both of our cocks, lost in her pleasure, so much more so because of our ability to bend to her will—it was addicting.
I’ll never recover. Still, I wanted to give her space.
She left the dining room in a hurry, some sort of anxiety pent up behind her divine features.
Something bothered her, and I didn’t want my demanding presence to make it worse.
I’m nothing but a dog at her feet, available at her beck and call.
If she wanted me, she would seek me out.
Now, with only a day passed and craving her presence like a ravenous vermin she’s so fond of, I attempt to drown my desires.
I called the maids to bring in the brass tub and fill it to the brim with scalding water.
But hours have passed, the water is nothing but a lukewarm annoyance, and Belle still dances around my mind like a hawk chasing a dove.
Perhaps my obsession has come full circle.
She’s healed my mind with her blood, with her touch, but I’ve gone mad again, because when the door to my room creaks open, and she slips in with a sliver of light, I can’t believe what I’m seeing is real.
With each barefoot step across my dark green rug, my spine stiffens.
Her smell blooms, and I’m more certain she’s not a mirage.
She wears a thin cotton dress,the flickering candles resting on the side tables around the room revealing her outline.
The knife she tried to stab me with is clenched in her hand.
My spine is not the only rigid part of me bobbing in the water.
But then her chest shakes, and a quiet sob escapes her throat, rattling her Darling.
I jump to my feet, fear overtaking reasoning, stepping out of the tub and rushing to her, scanning for any injuries. My mind whirls with possibilities.
“Who hurt you?” My voice bubbles with a growl, my animalistic tendencies rising to the surface once more.
She doesn’t answer, only shakes her head and wraps her delicate arms around me, nestling between my damp pectorals, her hair snagging on my scales.
I wipe away a tear sliding down her cheek, fighting the urge to lick my finger.
“What troubles you?” I whisper, needing to know but fearful I’ll make it worse.
She doesn’t answer, her cries increasing.
Shit. I’m a monster.
I need to feel more of her, all of her, just to know every piece of her is whole.
I bend down, scooping her in my arms and carrying her to the bathtub.
She doesn’t resist, clings to me as I settle against the siding.
I wish I had ripped off her thin dress before entering.
It’s a torturous fabric, a barrier between me and Belle’s supple form.
No.
I shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts. She needs my care, not my cock.
I smooth her hair against her scalp. Her small voice cracks. “How can I leave you?" she whispers, pressing more weight against me.
I stiffen, in more ways but one, but I push away the heated fog. “You can’t leave me.”
She raises her gaze to mine. “Rourke, I can't stay here. I can’t live the rest of my life as your prisoner.”
“You’re not my prisoner.”
“That’s not what your father intends.”
I keep forgetting about him. I’d kill him. I want to tell her this, but as much as I wish it were true, it’s not possible, and there’s no reason to give her false hope.
She’s right, of course. He never lets any of his captives free, no matter how fond of them he grows.
There’s nothing to say.
She repositions in my lap, straddling me and placing her hands on my shoulders, her breasts two buoyant distractions just an eye-flick away.
I groan, fighting my urge to sink within her.
It wouldn’t be the right thing to do when her face lines with such a determined expression. “Do you love me?” she asks.
I don’t hesitate. “Yes, of course.”
“Do you love me enough to live without me?”
Her words sting. How can she ask that of me?
But her red-rimmed eyes cut at my soul. I can only speak the truth.
There’s no ask too great from her. “I’d survive off the remnants of you.
Drink your left-behind bathwater, curl your shedded hairs around my fingers, wrap myself in your forgotten sheets, breathing in your scent.
And when every piece of you is gone, and I can’t go on any longer, I’d die remembering you just like this. ”
Her mouth hangs open, her eyes wide. “Wow…well, that’s fucking tragic.”
I can’t stand the small distance any longer; the thought of losing her is already driving me mad.
I pull her to my lips, hand around her neck to keep her in place.
She’s stiff at first but relaxes into the embrace, opening for me, pressing her chest against mine.
I wiggle my hips, the thought of being without her making me frantic, but she pushes back, sobbing again.
“Rourke, I need you to free me of my Darling.”
“But I…”
“Please, I need you to give me your blood.”
“What?” I won’t resist her. She could drink every lost drop, straight from my veins, but the question seems out of place. Perhaps I was right and she tried to stab me earlier to fuel a heightened arousal.
The pixie reads my confusion. “Do you not know?”
“There are many things I don’t know.”
“No, but did you know that you can set me free of my Darling by giving me your blood with the intent to set me free?”
I shake my head. “No. How do you know this?”
“It was in one of the books in the library.” Her eyes widen. “Is that why you have been denying me this all this time? You didn’t know how to set me free?”
“Yes.” It’s only half of the truth, though.
I’m still uncertain if what she says is true.
Darlings are unbreakable instruments. There isn’t supposed to be a way to free anyone from their hold until the binder dies.
At least that's what I've been told. But she seems so certain, and who am I to doubt her? She’s everything perfect in this realm. Her wit may even surpass her beauty. If she says it’s true, I believe her.
I fish for her dinner dagger at the bottom of the tub, bringing it to my neck.
I hold her regard as I slice myself, not deep, but enough to give her all that she needs.
Her eyes draw to the injury before returning to my gaze.
“I love you,” she whispers in a disbelieving awe.
I’ve never heard such beautiful words. I’ve been desperate for the phrase my whole life, from my mother, my father, my brother, but most of all, from her.
She charges me, devouring my mouth. I revel in her taste, conscious that it might be the last time.
Belle pulls away, trailing her lips down my jaw, meeting the slice on my throat.
She drinks from me, taking in big gulps, before pulling away to reveal ruby-red lips, my blood dripping down her neck and onto her Darling.
The liquid travels further, and she rubs it into her breasts.
Red has always been my favorite color. Then it changed to blue. Now, it’s this combination. My red covering her skin, and her blue eyes shining through it all, heightened by the low light from the candles on the tabletops behind her.
I told the truth. I’d love her enough to let her go.
The sight before me is enough to die with the contentment that I lived a life worth living.
I nearly burst into the already pink water.
I can’t take it anymore. I pull her back against me, jerking my hips as a desperate plea for her to allow me inside her sweet cunt.
She doesn't hop on right away, instead rubs against my length. Her slick heat folds around me, making me desperate for her inner grip.
I taste my blood on her lips. The knowledge that I can share this part of me, to please her with just the stuff I’m made of, similarly to my come, nothing compares.
Her moans reach a rhythm, a breathy speed that tells me she’s close.
I want her to lose herself around my cock, to feel her walls clench as I burst inside of her.
I take charge, picking her up by her hips and dropping her where I need her most.
Her eyes roll to the back of her head. I can’t stop watching her as she arches backward, hands clenched on my biceps as she works her hips. She’s a goddess, the Second Star in human form.
I used to love watching my victims covered in their own blood. Now I’m addicted to the sight of my own, marking the holder of my heart. Especially as I fuck her. I don’t think there’s anything more I could enjoy than fucking her. That’s not true, though. It’s her, all of her, no matter how small.
I grab the back of her neck and bring her ear to my lips. “Stars, it's too much—seeing you covered in me. It’s almost as good as filling you with my seed, claiming you in all ways.”
“I’m yours. Fill me.”
I nearly spill at her words, wishing they were true, wishing she was really mine to keep. I pound in deeper, speeding my thrusts, completely losing myself. My dreams come true as she cries out and clamps around me so tight I’m suffocating in pleasure.
“Shit!” she cries. “God, I love you.” She milks me, surely sucking my cum up her heavenly cunt.
Her breaths slow, but she doesn’t rest against me as I wish she would.
I want to hold her close. Run my hand through her hair and whisper sweet words that make her smile against my heartbeat.
She’s too focused on something between us. I follow her gaze.
Her Darling rests on my abdomen, broken in half, similarly to my newly ripened heart.
She’s free of Hollowbrook. Free of me. If only I could join her in her freedom.