Chapter 27
GREY
People said love blinds, but it must have ripped my fucking eyes out.
The words on the page blurred as the memories of the past came rushing back. I felt hollow, like I’d disturbed something that I should have left untouched.
“Grams warned us about using magic like this,” Lyra whispered softly as she looked up from Veda’s spellbook. “Death shouldn’t be exploited.”
Lyra sat cross-legged on my living room floor, her eyes glinting gold from the firelight as she obsessively read over every little detail of the spell.
The way Lyra spoke and used magic was different than I’d expected. Veda saw her magic as a gift that made her a god. Lyra viewed hers as a burden but still used it to help others.
“Alrighty, let’s get this over with,” she said, pushing herself up from the floor.
“It could be dangerous,” I warned. For a young, inexperienced witch like yourself. I didn’t dare voice that part out loud.
“Noted,” she said, assessing the available space. “Are you painting?” Lyra moved toward the open paint cans in the corner and removed the lid, stirring the paint.
“I was tired of looking at the walls,” I said, as she examined the color more closely. “The white reminded me too much of the basement. Of being trapped.”
She stilled at my words before continuing to stir the paint. “I can help you if you’d like. I mean, I would make a mess, and it wouldn’t look very good,” she rambled on as she typically did when she was nervous. “But if you need my help, I’m here.”
“Thanks.”
An unfamiliar feeling fluttered in my chest cavity.
Was this the first sign of a heart attack?
Maybe my powers had been trapped for too long and they’d worn out my body.
But then Lyra smiled, and the same stupid flutter happened again.
Shit. It wasn’t a fucking heart attack, but something far more serious.
“It’s a standing offer,” she said, carrying a can to the coffee table. She nudged the table with her leg but it refused to budge. “Help me clear some space.”
The table screeched as I slid it across the room, careful not to scratch the hardwood floor. When I turned back around, I found Lyra kneeling with a paint covered finger hovering above the floor.
“Don’t you dare.”
“I’ll mop it up, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll use some rubbing alcohol,” she said, ignoring my threat.
Never in my life would I’ve thought I’d let a witch paint a hell’s trap in the center of my living room. But I stood rooted in place, hungrily staring at Lyra on her knees, the short skirt she wore exposing her ass and thighs as she stretched to finish one of the markings.
My dick hardened at the sight.
“Nope. Don’t even think about it,” she held up a hand. “We have more important things to take care of.”
“I can’t think of anything more important than getting you off,” I said, stepping toward her but halting just inches from the trap. My mind screamed at me—this could be a setup, and begged me to back the fuck up. But Lyra beckoned me forward.
Blood pounded in my ears. Drowning out everything. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t be trapped again.
I didn’t know how long I stood there, staring at the hell’s trap. But Lyra didn’t rush me, just waited for me to be ready.
I stepped forward, entering the trap and ignoring every instinct that had kept me alive for centuries.
Regret and panic churned in my gut. I felt too out of control, unable to breathe because of the all too familiar suffocating weight of the magic pressing down on me.
Sweat beaded my forehead as I forced myself to the floor, settling onto my back and stretching my arms and legs onto the sigils Lyra had painted.
Magic wrapped around them, pinning me to the ground.
I closed my eyes, reminding myself I wasn’t in the Whitethorn’s basement or church.
I was home.
“I’m right here.” Lyra’s voice anchored me in place.
“Lyra.” Her name fell from my lips like a prayer. Maybe if I worshipped her hard enough, she’d save my eternal soul.
“Are you okay?” she asked, kneeling next to me.
“Let’s just get this over with.” I hated the tremor in my voice as I spoke.
“Maybe we should use a safe word,” she joked, trying to break the tension. “If you want me to stop, just say pineapple.”
I honed in on Lyra. I knew she wasn’t a threat, but my brain tried to convince me otherwise. A sound more creature than human tore from my throat. The predator inside became feral, desperate to escape the cage. Ready to kill anyone who stopped me.
She took a steadying breath and sliced her palm. She must have gotten a knife from the kitchen at some point while waiting for me.
Warm, sticky liquid coated my neck and chest as her bloody hand wrapped around the collar.
A metallic tang filled the air. Latin words I hadn’t heard in centuries spilled from Lyra’s pink lips, a steady chant.
I only understood a handful of words, catching a few here and there over the roaring in my ears.
A burning sensation started at the collar and quickly spread to the rest of my body. I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore the pain.
“I don’t know if I’m strong enough,” Lyra panted. Her brows bunched together, and her lips puckered as she tried and failed to hide the pain from her face.
Burning, razor-sharp pain took hold of my neck. Like someone was filleting the flesh away from my bones. My lightning sparked, desperate to be free. To be unleashed. But there was nowhere for it to go.
I watched in horror as blood trickled from my little witch’s nose. But I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. “Stop!” I roared, but the stubborn witch kept going. Repeating the chant over and over as if it was her salvation instead of her damnation.
My insides blazed. The searing pain forced a scream from my throat. Followed by one after another, but even through the ear-deafening shriek, I heard the collar crack.
She hadn’t removed it. But she managed to weaken it.
Lyra stopped the chant, swaying from side to side on her knees. Blood gushed from her nose, staining the front of her shirt.
I closed my eyes and let my head fall against the floor, trying to catch my breath.
“Anything?” she asked, and the hope in her voice twisted in my gut.
My silence was answer enough.
“We’ll try again.” Determination laced the words.
“No. We’re done.” I seethed.
She wiped away the blood dripping from her nose down her chin.
“Let me out,” I bellowed, my mouth dry as sandpaper. Anger dotted my vision as I repeated, “Let me the fuck out.”
Something devious flashed in her hazel eyes, darkening them. The brown flakes were more prevalent than I’d ever seen them. “No.” She shook her head.
“Excuse me?” My entire body shook, releasing my last bit of self-control. Fangs and claws tore from my fingers and gums. Blood filled my mouth, staining my other canines red.
Lyra rose to her feet and stepped toward the trap, but she didn’t free me.
Instead, she slowly pulled her blood-spattered shirt over her head.
My gaze fell on her hardened nipples visible through the thin fabric of her bra.
She continued to strip for me. The mini skirt I’d wanted to rip to shreds earlier pooled around her feet.
I needed to move. To touch, fuck, and tease. I was in real danger of coming right then and there at the mere sight of her silky skin.
“Be a good girl and let me out of here, because remember, Lyra, bad girls get punished.” I scented her arousal at the threat.
She dropped to her knees and crawled, yes, fucking crawled to me.
“It’s my turn to make you feel good.” A slow, wicked smile spread across her face.
She fumbled with the button of my pants, freeing my hardened cock. The first lick of her tongue had me crawling out of my skin. I never thought I could experience such pleasure from a single touch.
“I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.” She teasingly licked the tip and wrapped her lips around the shaft. A mixture of saliva and lipstick coated my cock as she took me further into her mouth until she was choking on it, tears filling her eyes.
“You’re doing so well, little witch.” My words seemed to stir something inside her because she quickened her pace, taking more of me each time.
“Look at me.” Lyra’s eyes flew open and met mine at the command. She was a fucking mess, and I loved it. Drool covered her face and those beautiful hazel eyes watered, ruining her makeup.
Tension built in my balls, but before I could come, she stopped.
I was so goddamn hard.
“Sit on my cock.” I practically begged. I’d give her anything if she just fucking touched me again.
A moan tore from my lips as her teeth grazed over my stomach and up my chest. She stopped before she got to the ruined flesh around the collar, placing feather-light kisses on the area. Her finger traced the crack along the collar.
The smell of jasmine and lavender mixed with her arousal was the hottest thing I’d ever smelled.
Luscious thighs wrapped around my waist as she settled on top of me. The underside of my dick slid between her slick folds, and she started to stroke me that way, adding enough pressure to make sure my cock pressed against her clit.
Greedy little witch.
My cock desperately sought the heat of her pussy. A desperation I’d never felt pooled in my chest, but I was at her mercy. I’d given up control willingly.
Her delicate little hand wrapped around the base of my cock, gently giving it a few pumps before placing it at her entrance. I held my breath as she gradually lowered herself, inch by tantalizing inch.
“That’s it, baby.” Every nerve in my body exploded. Her tight little cunt squeezed around my cock, gripping me tightly, and my vision went white.
“Fuck, Grey,” she moaned my name, and I’d never heard a more beautiful sound as she sank onto me, not waiting to adjust to my size before rolling her hips.
“Use me,” I ordered.
She felt so fucking good.
She took my entire length, pressing her sensitive spot to the base of my shaft, moving in circles, desperate to find her release.
“That’s it,” I snarled, needing to be deeper and deeper. She quickened her pace, and I felt the moment her knee smudged the line as she rode me. The magic released its hold, but I’d let the little witch get off, and then it’d be my turn.
My hips thrust upward, and the orgasm tore from her. Our tongues fought one another for dominance as I brought my lips to hers.
I gripped her hair, yanking hard enough to elicit a squeal. The predator inside stirred to life.
“Now it’s my turn to have a little fun.” A wicked smile split my lips. “Run, little witch, because if I catch you, I’m going to fuck you however I want.”
I released my grip, her eyes wide with desire and fear.
“Run.”
I’d let her get a head start. I liked to play with my food before I ate it.
I heard the front door slam shut. I took a deep breath and counted to ten before chasing after the witch.