39. The Rule
THE RULE
Seraphina
I’m knocking before I can talk myself out of it.
He swings the door open so quickly it’s like he was waiting just the other side of it.
“You’re back.”
He pauses, looking me up and down several times like he’s assessing me for injuries. When he finds me in one piece, he asks, “What happened?”
I take a deep breath as the adrenaline that had me walking back here threatens to leave me standing on my own.
I open my mouth to speak, then close it.
“Scar?” He steps closer and reaches out a hand to stroke down my hair and cup my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. “Everything okay?” His hand trails further down, fingers skimming my arm until he takes my hand in his.
Any moment now I will lose the nerve.
My lips part. “I have one more question.”
Is that breathy voice mine?
He arches a dark brow. “Go on.”
“Your rule.” My eyes drop to our hands. “W–Would you ever break it?”
“What rule’s that, Scar?” he asks with a ghost of a smile.
I swallow. “You know.”
He smirks. “Maybe.”
He laces his fingers with mine, his thumb stroking my skin and setting every nerve in my body on edge.
“But I want to hear you say it.”
I lift my gaze to find his eyes are already on me, swirling with more intensity than normal.
“I–It doesn’t matter.” I turn to leave. “I should go—”
One moment I’m looking down the turret staircase, dying of embarrassment. The next, his hand clamps around mine like a vice.
“Fuck it,” he mutters, and pulls me inside, slamming the door behind us.
My back hits the wall, making me gasp, my body instantly caged by his as one hand braces against the stone and the other releases my hand to grip my chin.
His eyes are swimming with sin as they penetrate mine like he’s searching for permission.
I nod, the faintest movement, and his mouth crashes down on mine.
The hard lines of Silver’s body trap me in place, but there’s nowhere I’d rather be than surrounded by iron and cedar and smoke, overwhelming my senses and setting the blood in my veins on fire.
Our mouths go to war. His kiss is as hot and possessive and completely out of control as it had been in the library.
“Ask me,” he groans against my mouth.
My hands find his hair, angling him for a deeper kiss instead.
He pulls away.
“Ask me, Scar,” he orders.
Fine.
“You say you don’t fuck cadets,” I whisper, slightly breathless but no longer embarrassed. “Would you break that rule?”
His hips pin me to the wall. “For just anyone?”
“No!” The word comes out as more of a growl than I intend. “For me.”
His hand releases my chin, and closes around my wrist instead. Need rushes to my core as he drags our joined hands down between our bodies, not stopping until my palm is pressed against his length.
“What do you think?” he asks.
It throbs against his leathers. Heat floods my body as I curl my fingers around it through his pants.
He groans when I squeeze.
“I think you want to.”
He scoffs, then shakes his head.
I frown as his head dips, lips brushing the sensitive skin on my neck, planting kisses there.
“When it comes to you, I haven’t stood a fucking chance with that rule for some time.”
“You haven’t?” I ask, toes curling, and he lifts his head. “Since when?”
His gaze seizes mine again. “I don’t know exactly when, Scar. Maybe it was when I caught you practicing in the sparring yard when you thought no one was watching.”
His hands move to my back, and his fingers make quick work of the straps on my training corset.
“Or maybe it was when I saw your scars.” His fingers gently trace every ridge. “It made me want to hunt down those responsible so I can rain down hell on them, make them suffer worse than even the Princes will in the eternity of suffering waiting for them.”
My corset drops like it’s been sliced away. I press the tips of my breasts against his chest and he cups one of them roughly, his other large hand curling around my neck.
“Maybe it was when I saw you run my dagger across the tattooist's throat in the library, or when I kissed you as his body cooled.”
He presses my back into the wall and I gasp.
“That's all I can think about every time I see you. How good it felt to have your body trapped between mine and the books at your back. To have your legs wrapped around my waist like this…”
My breath catches as his hands find my ass and he lifts me against him. I wrap my legs around his waist, locking my ankles.
“Or perhaps it was before any of that,” he says. “Perhaps it was way back when I realized you intended to sacrifice yourself in that alley to save another from your own worst fear.”
“I’d been tracking a mark,” I admit. “He was dead in the dumpster further down the alley.”
He smirks. “Keep talking dirty to me like that, Scar, I’ll break my rule right here and fuck you against this wall.”
“What’s stopping you?” I whisper.
“I’m trying to be a good man, Scar. To do right by you.”
“I’m the one who came back here.”
“Because you think you’ll die tomorrow.”
So that’s why he thinks he needs to stop this. He thinks I only want him like this because it’s the final game tomorrow. He thinks I’ll regret it.
I don’t hesitate. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Don’t get me wrong, the thought of not returning from Hell tomorrow having never felt what it’s like to do more than kiss you feels like a mistake I’d be taking to my grave.
To never know what it was like to taste you.
To feel you inside me. When that’s all I’ve been able to think about since the first time I kissed you. ”
“You won’t die tomorrow, Scar.”
“You sound so sure.”
“I have to be.”
“Why?”
“Because the thought of you dying is unfathomable to me,” he admits. “It wakes me up at night and doesn’t stop haunting me by day.”
“That’s how I feel about this, too. About your rule and how much I’ve been wanting to know if you’ll break it. Not because it’s the final game tomorrow, but because I don’t want to live or die not knowing what it’s like to sin with you.”
His eyes darken, and liquid silver lights up his veins.
Then he’s carrying me across the room and slowly lowering me down onto his giant bed.
His mouth hovers over mine. “You really want to know what it’s like to sin with me, Little Nephilim?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Good.” He claims my lips, kissing me softly at first, teasing. “I envy every breath that brushes your lips before mine.” Then he kisses me like I might die tomorrow and this is his last chance.
It’s intoxicating and feral and I match every stroke of his tongue as it clashes with mine.
I groan when he breaks the kiss, but his lips slide down my neck and his hand finds my breast. Then his hot mouth is covering my nipple, and the groan turns into a moan of pure bliss as I arch into him.
He lifts his head and I feel the cool blow of his breath against the hard and sensitive peak before he’s kissing and nipping at it again.
My hand comes up to my other breast, desperate for some of the attention he’s showing the other one.
He growls, the sound guttural and coming from deep in his chest and I pause.
“Touch yourself anywhere before I get to, Scar, and I’ll show you what wrath looks like. The fine line between pleasure and pain.”
“Then show me,” I rasp.
“Tempting, but not yet.” He shakes his head. “Right now I’m greedy for your screams of pleasure. Ravenous to hear you forget your precious angels and scream my name instead.”
I bite my lip, then move my hand to his head, fisting his hair, guiding his mouth back to my breast. He’s stubborn, and takes his delicious time with the first before deciding he’s ready to move on to the other.
When my nipples are so hard and sensitive that I can’t stand another moment of his teasing, he slowly slides down to the end of the bed, gripping my hips and pulling me with him.
He stops when my ass is at the edge of the mattress and his fingers dip into the waistband of my leathers. Slowly, he begins to peel them down my legs, pausing to unlace each boot before tugging them off one by one.
I try to help but he refuses, stopping me on account of wanting to take his sweet time.
When he finally begins to slide my panties down my thighs, my legs are trembling.
He smiles. “So wet for me already.”
My cheeks flush hot.
“Don’t you dare be embarrassed,” he chastises, licking his lips as his eyes go to the place I need him most right now.
He pauses, staring, and I can’t help but feel self-conscious.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“You can’t die tomorrow.”
“I can’t?”
He shakes his head and I let out a moan as he lowers down to his knees and starts kissing his way from my breasts, across my ribs, down my stomach…
“Why’s that?” I ask, arching up into each kiss that sets my flesh on fire.
“Because one taste of you will never be enough.”
“You haven’t even taste—”
I cry out, my nails sinking deep into soft sheets as his mouth dips between my thighs and his wicked tongue steals my breath.
“Silver,” I gasp as his skilled tongue glides from my entrance to my clit. Licking and teasing and circling.
He devours me, never breaking that addictive contact, not even when he pulls my legs up onto his shoulders and sits back on his calves.
“I’ll forever be a glutton for this taste, Scar,” he murmurs against my heat. “Fuck pride, for your lust on my lips, I could live on my knees between your thighs forever.”
My fingers tangle in his hair when he pushes two fingers inside me.
“So tight,” he purrs, moving his expert fingers in time with his wicked tongue.
He finds a rhythm and my entire body starts to tremble as I rock my hips, chasing a high that I’ve never felt before, yet somehow know he can give me.
When his teeth nip at my sensitive bud, I unravel. “Silver!”
Pleasure surges through me like waves and all I can do is cry his name as I ride them.
He begins to kiss his way up my quivering body.
“That mouth…” I pant as I slowly come back down and he reaches my neck. “That tongue…” I moan. “That was—”
“Just the beginning Little Nephilim,” he smiles, snatching my gaze with his. He sighs. “But you should sleep. I’m an addict now and I need you to not die tomorrow so I can get my fix.”
“Sleep?” How could I possibly sleep now?
He nods, but every sin he’d confessed to as his mouth worked its way down my body is still dancing in his lust-filled eyes.
Not to mention the ache between my legs that even his skilled tongue couldn’t reach.
I shake my head and reach my hand down to where his mouth had just been. “What if I’m not tired?”
His hand snaps around my wrist and he lets out a growl from deep in his chest.
I bite my lip.
“Don’t push me, Scar. I’m trying to be a good man for you but I’m no fucking saint.”
“I don’t want a saint, Silver. I want you to break your rules and fuck me.”
His eyes flare and every marking on his skin glows more fluorescent than I’ve ever seen it.
He kisses me like the addict he confesses to be and I tug at his shirt.
Silver quickly rips it from his back and we’re kissing again. My hands are all over him, exploring every divine inch of flesh, every ridge of hard muscle.
Eventually I find the buttons of his leathers and make quick work of them.
He shoves them down to his knees and I guide the head of his cock to my entrance.
“I need to feel you inside me.”
His body tenses and his eyes lock with mine. “Are you sure?”
“As sure as I’ve ever been about anything.”
My pulse jumps as the head slides against my clit but he swallows my gasp with a kiss.
His hips press forward and he pushes the first inch inside me, pausing to let me adjust.
When I bring my hips up to meet his, urgent and impatient, he rocks further into me. I grit my teeth as my body stretches around him, burning in the best way as he sinks another few inches deeper.
“Are you okay?”
“More,” is all I can manage against his mouth. He tastes of smoke and Silver and sin.
Like the saint he swore he isn’t, he thrusts into me, so deep he’s touching places that have never been touched before, making my breath stutter.
“Fuck. I’m sorry Scar,” he mutters against my mouth but he doesn’t stop.
I don’t want him to.
“Stop apologizing and mo—” Another thrust of his hips cuts me off. He’s already moving, his mouth clashing with mine, one hand propping himself up, biceps bulging, the other on my breast.
“Fuck me, Scar. You feel as good as you taste.”
“More.”
Just when I think I’m about to burst into flames, I realize we are surrounded by white and blue and silver hellfire, like it’s leaking from his skin, engulfing the two of us.
“Silver, you're on fire!”
“Fuck,” he grits out. “Are the flames hurting you?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Not at all.”
“Good.” He slams back into me, again and again. “You’re going to look so fucking sexy coming around my cock while wrapped in my flames.”
His pace is brutal and I match his rhythm.
Though his flames are not hurting me, every inch of my skin is sensitive, set alight with pleasure.
“So beautiful,” he whispers and I moan into his kiss as the sensations build and build until I feel like I’m going to die or explode or both.
The bed groans with every hard thrust and perfect stroke of his cock against my walls until the friction has me throwing my head back, unable to think straight enough to keep kissing him.
“Come for me, Little Nephilim.”
Like his words are an order my body can’t ignore, the ball of pleasure tying me in knots unravels all at once. It rocks my entire being with wave after wave of bliss.
When I finally come down, he flips me over onto my hands and knees and thrusts back into me from behind. The angle is deeper and I see stars.
I learn his rhythm quickly and rock back into him, taking all of him with every slam of his hips.
“No,” he growls, the sound undeniably that of a man on the brink of losing control. “I want you to see what you do to me.”
He pulls out of me and I whimper at the loss before he rolls me back over like I weigh nothing, slamming back into me. I look up at him just in time to see him arch his neck and throw his head back.
“Scar!” he roars to the rafters, his markings glowing with liquid silver as flames dance and lick all over his skin.
He slams his hips into me once more before collapsing next to me. “That was…”
“Incredible,” I sigh.
“You are incredible, Scar.” He wraps an arm around me and squeezes my hand with his. “Promise me something?”
“Anything.”
“Promise me you won’t die tomorrow.”
“I’ll try my best not to.”
It’s the best I can do without lying to him, and I hate lying to this amazing man more than anyone, even by omission.
Satan knows, if he knew the full truth, he would likely never want to look at me again.