Chapter 19
LEGION
Ileaned against the doorframe of the shop, my breath catching in my chest. Every step I took sent a jagged spike of agony through my side.
The dark, wet patch on my shirt felt heavy and cold against my skin.
I watched her silently. She was hunched over her workbench, her fingers steady as she worked.
She was so concentrated she hadn’t even heard heard the uneven thud of my boots as I entered.
I stepped closer, and the shadow of my frame fell across her equipment.
That’s when she spun. The beaker in her hand trembled. Her eyes widened, then narrowed into slits of pure, unadulterated hatred.
"Get out," she hissed. Her voice was a serrated blade. "I want nothing to do with you. Get out!"
I didn't move. I stayed in the doorway, my weight shifting as I fought the urge to pull her to me. "Lantana."
"How dare you!" She stepped toward me, the glass stirring rod in her hand gripped like a weapon. "How dare you show your face here? After all you’ve done.”
It had been several days since she’d tied me to a chair and fucked me over in more ways than one. My injuries were still fresh, including the pain in my chest for having hurt her.
"I had to," I rasped.
"Didn’t you have enough?” She warned as I took a step closer.
“Duchess doesn’t want me to leave.”
“I do!”
I took a step forward. "It was the only way to keep you safe."
The slap caught me across the jaw. My head snapped to the side. The sting was immediate, a sharp, burning heat. I stared at her, my pulse thudding in my ears. She was trembling, her face flushed with rage.
"I'm not leaving, Lantana," I said, my voice dropping to a low growl. "This is pointless."
“What do you want?” She took a step back.
“I just want to talk,” I said raising my hands to show her I didn’t mean any harm.
"You're a fucking liar," she lunged at me and her fist connected with my chest, a heavy blow that forced a grunt from my lungs.
I tried to catch her around the waist, to hold her still, but she was a whirlwind. She ducked a grab and drove a hard, stinging kick into my shin. I hissed through my teeth. The movement tore at the stitches in my side. A fresh wave of heat spread down my hip.
“Jesus. Fuck! Calm the fuck down!” I grunted.
“I told you to get out,” she ran back behind a metal bench.
“Why do you always think I want to hurt you?”
“Because I don’t trust anyone. Don’t,” She warned as I took a step forward.
I ignored her and that’s when she grabbed a heavy glass beaker from the bench and swung. I ducked, and the glass shattered against the wall behind me. Shards sprayed the floor.
I looked back at the broken glass in shock. “You’re fucking crazy,” I murmured.
I surged forward, closing the distance before she could reach for another weapon.
I wrapped my arms around her waist, my weight driving her backward.
She fought me with everything she had. Her nails dug into my forearms, leaving angry red tracks.
She drove an elbow into my ribs, and I felt the wound in my side groan.
I pivoted, using my momentum to slam her down onto the concrete floor. I kept my weight controlled, ensuring her head didn't hit the ground, but the impact was heavy. Her dress skirt rode up her thighs, bunching around her hips.
My breath hitched. The sight of her pale, plump thighs against the dark floor hit me with the force of a physical blow.
My mouth went dry. My hands moved on their own.
I slid my palms over the soft, warm skin of her legs.
I moved higher, my fingers finding the damp silk of her panties. She was soaking.
"Is this making you wet?" I growled, leaning over her. "Is this what you wanted from me?"
"Fuck... you..." she gasped, her back arching.
"I miss the taste of you, Lantana," I whispered, my face inches from hers. "I want to stroke you with my tongue."
She cursed me, a string of jagged profanities, and found the strength to kick me hard in the chest. I tumbled back, the air leaving my lungs in a rush. She scrambled up, her eyes wild.
I didn't give her a second to breathe. I lunged again, catching her around the waist. She wrapped her legs around my midsection, her heels digging into my lower back.
She pulled at my hair, her fingers twisting in the dark locks, her body thrashing against mine.
We swirled around the cramped lab, a chaotic mess of limbs and heavy breathing.
The pain in my side was a constant, screaming presence.
I knew my stitches were gone. I could feel the blood soaking my shirt.
"I'm just trying to say I'm sorry," I gasped, my forehead pressed against hers.
"I don't want an apology!" she screamed. "I want you to get the fuck out! I hate you!"
"No, you don't."
I slammed her against the wall. The impact was a dull thud that echoed in the small room.
I pressed my body against hers, my cock hard and demanding against her belly.
She hit me with everything she had, slaps, punches, a sharp knee to my thigh.
I took every hit. I was fixated on the heat of her, the scent of her skin, the way her body fought me even as it leaned into the contact.
"You're gonna play nice," I warned, my voice a predatory rumble, "or I'm going to give you a taste of your own medicine."
"Fuck you!"
"Okay," I said. "You asked for it."
I hoisted her higher against the wall. My hands were frantic. I undid my pants with a single, jagged motion. She fought me, her nails raking across my neck, but I ripped her panties aside. I drove into her, a violent, singular thrust that forced a guttural cry from her throat.
“Legion!” She cried out and I smirked. It was the first time she’d used my road name. I preferred it.
The sensation of her heat surrounding me was overwhelming.
I held her weight against the wall, my hands gripping her hips to anchor her.
The friction was a searing, heavy heat. I pulled back until I was almost out, then drove home again with a punishing force.
My hips hit hers with a rhythmic, wet thud.
Her body arched against me. She was still fighting me, her hands clawing at my shoulders, her nails digging deep into my skin, but her body was arching into the impact. Every time I slammed into her, a broken moan escaped her lips.
“Mmmmnnh…”
“Fuck, you feel so good on my cock.”
I increased the pace. The movement was brutal and unrelenting.
I wanted to drive the anger and the longing out of my system through her.
The sting of her nails on my neck and shoulders only fueled the fire in my gut.
I felt the blood from my side slicking my skin, mixing with the sweat pouring off our bodies.
"You deserve this, Lantana," I grunted, my voice a low, primal rasp. "For what you did to me. For leaving me."
"I should have... killed you..." she sobbed, her voice breaking into a high, desperate moan. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded as her fingernails sunk into my skin.
God, she was perfect. I reached down between our bodies.
My thumb found her clit, pinning it against her swollen flesh.
I began to circle it with heavy, rhythmic pressure, matching the violent cadence of my thrusts.
The dual sensation was a sensory assault.
She screamed, a long, jagged sound that echoed off the chemical-stained walls.
Her pussy clamped around me, a series of frantic, rhythmic pulses that gripped me tight.
I felt my own control fracturing. I drove into her harder, my breath coming in ragged, animalistic snorts.
I watched her face, the way her jaw tightened, the way her eyes rolled back.
She was cumming, her entire body shuddering against the wall.
I followed her a second later, my climax a violent, white-hot explosion that tore through my entire frame.
I buried my face in her neck, my teeth grazing her skin as I shook with the force of my release.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by our ragged breathing.
I lifted her onto the workbench. She was limp, and her strength entirely spent. She watched as I adjusted my pants, and then she let me lift and carry her out of the shop and into the service elevator.
“Why did you come back?” She whispered.
“I told you. I can’t stay away.”
She nestled against my neck, her head heavy on my shoulder. We were both bleeding, my blood from my side, hers from the friction of our struggle.
The elevator climbed and neither of us said a word. Pulling out my card, she blinked at me as the lock to her apartment opened.
“How did you…” but her question was left unanswered as I carried her into her apartment. The air was cool and smelled of lavender. I laid her softly on the bed and she closed her eyes. Not saying a word.
I stood up and began to move through the room. My eyes scanned the corners. I saw the tiny, black lens of the camera tucked into the corner of the ceiling. I saw another in the bathroom. I moved toward them quickly, disconnecting the wires, the small devices dying in my hands.
She had no idea. She had no idea I had been watching her for months. She had no idea I had stalked her every move. That I’d seen every part of her body, and enjoyed her from afar. If she ever found out, she would kill me. I knew that.
I walked into the bathroom and turned the water on, it hissed into the tub.
I went to the mirror to check my injury and hissed as I pulled the bandage away.
Sure enough, I’d opened my stitches. Grabbing a towel I pressed it to the wound until the bleeding stopped.
I’d have to deal with that later. My plan now was to wash away the blood from her skin.
I would clean her up. And then, I would find a way to make sure she never left me again.