Chapter 17
17
SHILOH
As everyone begins to gather their things, Cornelius appears from Lord Knows Where, an ancient set of keys jingling in his hand.
“For you, Miss Wilson,” he chimes merrily, dropping them into my palm. “You are welcome to drop by whenever you’re ready to make a start on your decorating plans. I’m afraid I won’t be much help with the finesse of it all, but I’ll be sure to convene with the spirits so that you can work without any hindrance from them.”
I choose to smile graciously rather than comment on his bizarre offer of support. “Thanks, Cornelius. I'll do my best not to, um, let them down.”
“I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job, dear child,” he beams. “You’ll see over in the corner there I’ve brought out several boxes of old bits and pieces that decorated our illustrious venue in days gone by. I must tell you, Old Prudence loved the year we had a black and red theme, the predictable old maid.” A distant look fills his eyes for a moment, and then he visibly twitches. “Alrighty then, I’ll be heading home.” With that, he dawdles off, muttering to invisible figures with the occasional conspiratorial cackle.
While the rest of the group files out, I turn toward the dusty boxes, surprised to see Dom lingering behind. He's rifling through one, seemingly absorbed in the task. I try to ignore the prickle of awareness that crawls up my spine as we’re suddenly left completely alone.
The silence between us is heavy, charged with an energy I can't quite name. I want to thank him for supporting me in the meeting, but the words stick in my throat. I catch myself stealing glances at him, watching the way his hands move deftly through the box with a slight furrow of concentration between his brows. Try as I might, I still can’t put my finger on why he’s suddenly so committed to making our trivial event a resounding success.
It’s so out of character, I might accuse him of being possessed.
As I watch, thoroughly distracted from sorting through my own box, Dom pulls something dark from the depths of his. I stare transfixed as he turns an ornate mask over in his hands. It appears to be a wolf’s head fashioned out of black lace with glinting metallic teeth. Without a word, he slips it on, obscuring the top half of his face. My breath catches at the sight of him, taking in the mysterious and somehow seemingly more dangerous persona it gives him. It’s as if the last of his humanity has suddenly been locked away, revealing the beast within.
He reaches back into the box and pulls out a fake meat cleaver, the plastic blade dull in the low light of the room. When he speaks, his voice drops an octave from his usual mocking timbre, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Do you remember that game we used to play, Shy Girl? Run and Hide ?”
I can't contain the nervous laugh that escapes me. “You can’t be for real. We're not kids anymore, Dom.”
But there's something in the way he's standing, in the predatory tilt of his head, that tells me he's far from joking. My heart begins to race, torn between allegiance to the voice in my head screaming this is ridiculous and the primal instinct in my gut urging me to flee.
“Dom, we shouldn't…” I begin, but the words die on my tongue as he takes a slow step toward me. It’s a clear, imposing warning–one that leaves chills raking down my spine.
“What’s the matter, Shy? Afraid you can't resist me?” he taunts, flashing his gleaming teeth beneath the jaws of the wolf. “Let’s play .”
And just like that, he lunges and I'm running. My feet carry me out of the room and down the winding hallways of the Manor before I can even conjure a rational thought. I hear Dom's steady footsteps behind me, unhurried but relentless, as if he knows he has all the time in the world to track me down.
I can’t believe we’re doing this right now.
But I also can’t believe I feel so fucking alive.
The sprawling house is a maze of shadows and cobwebs, the fading afternoon light casting eerie patterns through the dusty windows. I skid around corners and dash through doorways, my breath coming in ragged gasps. All the while, I can feel Dom behind me, his pace never faltering. I know he could’ve caught me by now, and the fact that he’s prolonging it only serves to frighten me further.
I finally burst through a set of double doors at the end of another corridor and find myself in the library. Rows upon rows of bookshelves tower around me, the musty scent of old paper filling my nostrils. Without hesitating for a second, I weave between the stacks, hoping to lose Dom in the labyrinth and circle back to freedom.
But as I round the corner of another shelf, I suddenly find myself face to face with a dead end. Cursing under my breath, I spin around, trying to remember which direction will lead me out again. Just as I pause to wipe the sweat from my brow, I gasp.
He’s right there. And blocking my escape.
Dom advances slowly, deliberately, like a predator who knows his prey is cornered and utterly helpless.
With careful steps, I back up until I feel the hard press of the bookshelf against my spine. My breaths grow increasingly laborious with anticipation, and Dom keeps coming, not stopping until he's mere inches away from me. He lingers there, leaving me to feel the heat radiating off his body, and smell the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the musk of sweat from our chase.
“Nowhere left to run, little sis,” he purrs, placing his hands on the shelf either side of my head so that I’m caged within his arms.
“We can’t do this here,” I protest weakly, my eyes darting to the stacks behind him as I try to remember where the damn door is. “Someone could come back…”
“You had better be quiet then,” Dom says, running the stupid fake cleaver along my jaw. He drops it to the floor and then peels the mask off his face. It lands beside the cleaver, and as I look back up to him, I’m pinned under the full weight of his dark gaze.
I part my lips, my brain screaming to protest.
But I can’t force the words out.
Dom lunges forward and bites down on my lower lip, not hard enough to draw blood but with enough force to make me whimper. He seizes the opportunity to sweep his tongue into my mouth, tasting, exploring, demanding a response that I'm helpless to deny him.
I crumble against him, my body betraying me once again even as my mind screams that I should put an end to this. My hands clench around the open front of his jacket–whether to push him away or pull him closer, I'm not sure. All I can think about is the fierce dominance of his mouth on mine, the solid press of his body against me, and the dizzying rush of desire that’s coursing through my veins.
He devours me until I’m pounding my fist against his chest, begging for air. And when Dom finally releases my lips, we're both panting.
He leans in, his murmur a shock to my system. “Tell me you don't want this, Shy Girl. I dare you.”
“I…” My voice trails off, morphing to a defeated whimper as his lips brush my neck.
“ Tell me, ” he whispers. It’s so uncharacteristic of him, and it shatters my fucking walls like a violent, murderous grenade.
I want this .
God help me, I want him so bad it hurts.
Finally, I manage to catch his gaze, and say the three words. “I want you.”
Dom's low chuckle sends a molten heat licking down my spine. “That's what I thought. You can't resist me any more than I can resist you.”
His lips crash down on mine again, and I surrender completely to the tide of desire that threatens to drown us both. Dom grinds into me where I’m trapped against the stacks of books, his arousal evident through his slacks. I can't help but respond, my hips arching into his, driven by instinct alone. He growls low in his throat, the hungry sound vibrating through me and igniting a fire deep in my core.
“So eager for me already,” he murmurs, every word dripping with smug victory. I bite my lip, unwilling to admit how right he is. But the evidence will be only too obvious soon enough, we both know where this is going.
Dom's smirk is reminiscent of the Devil himself as he sinks to his knees before me, his near-black eyes never leaving mine. In one fluid motion, he throws my leg over his shoulder, pushing my skirt up around my waist with his other hand. I gasp at the sudden exposure, cool air hitting my flushed skin. Dom wastes no time, immediately hooking his fingers into my soaked panties and dragging them to the side.
“Fuck,” he breathes, finally releasing me from his gaze as his eyes drop to my bared pussy. “I’ll never get enough of seeing your pretty little cunt weep for me.”
He leans in, scraping his teeth over my clit. The sharp pain quickly dissolves into pleasure so intense I have to bite back a scream, my hands scrabbling for purchase on the bookshelves behind me. Dom doesn't hold back, diving in with a fervor that I’ve never seen in any man knelt between my legs. His tongue laves over my slit, swirling through my pooling arousal before licking up to focus on my clit. He pulls the sensitive bud into his mouth, alternating between sucking hard and quick flicks of his tongue that have my eyes rolling into the back of my head.
I'm vaguely aware that I'm making far too much noise–gasps, yelps, and deep moans I couldn’t control even if I tried. Dom's strong hands grip my thighs, holding me right where he wants me as he devours my pussy like a starving man at a lavish feast.
But just as I feel myself teetering on the edge of release and my legs trembling with the effort of staying upright, he pulls away. I can’t hold back the disappointed whine that bursts from my lips, my hips chasing his mouth on a reflex.
I’m so fucking hungry for more.
Dom’s glistening lips tilt in that ever-present smirk as he rises to his feet with a grace that shouldn't be possible after kneeling on the hard floor for so long. He bends down to brush his lips over mine again, forcing me to taste myself on him. The kiss is surprisingly gentle, a million miles from the hungry intensity just moments before.
“You taste fucking divine,” he murmurs against my lips. “I could do it for hours.”
My cheeks flame at his words, butterflies swarming in my stomach at the praise. Dom's hands slide up my sides again until he pushes my cardigan off my shoulders. Once it falls to the floor, he strokes his fingertips back up my arms like he’s intent on worshiping every inch of my skin. The tender exploration has my heart sputtering until I’m convinced it’s about to stop altogether.
Once he reaches my shoulders again, he tugs the straps of my camisole and bra down roughly, leaving them both bunched around my waist just like he did with my skirt. The move effectively traps my arms, pinning them to my sides.
“Mmm, I do enjoy the sight of you all tied up for me,” Dom purrs, his dark eyes raking over my bare chest.
I should feel self-conscious, standing here half-naked and completely at his mercy. But the hunger in his gaze as he drinks in the sight of me has me feeling more desired than I ever have before. He raises his hands to brush his knuckles over my nipples, both of them already pebbled from the cold–and just how fucking turned on I am right now. I arch towards his touch, a breathy moan escaping me as our eyes lock onto each other again.
He leans in slowly as I watch, replacing one hand with his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue circling my nipple draws another whimper from me, my head falling back against the bookshelf with a dull thud as my eyes flutter closed.
“So sensitive,” Dom muses, pulling back just enough to blow cool air over the slick skin. I shiver, the goosebumps erupting all over my body. “Look at you, my little Shy Girl. So fucking beautiful.”
His words have a hard lump forming in my throat, sending those traitorous butterflies fluttering from my stomach straight up into my chest. My heart hammers wildly, this stolen moment suddenly feeling a lot less like a harmless game.
I'm terrified by how badly I want this–want him. With Dom's greedy hands on my body and his praise ringing in my ears, I can't bring myself to care that he’s supposed to be a brother to me. Every second we spend like this, lost in each other, the butterflies in my chest only multiply, their wings beating a frantic rhythm that matches the throbbing between my thighs.
Am I… Am I falling for him?
Before I can think it through, I’m drowning again.
Lost to the forbidden thrill of it all.