Chapter Twenty - Nine
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
MALACHI
"Itold you already," I murmur, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "You belong to me now."
Her breath catches. I feel the tremor run through her—subtle, like a thread pulling taut.
She should pull away. She doesn’t.
Good.
I release her face and step back just enough to give her a choice. And just like I expect, she stays rooted. Not because she’s obedient. Not because she’s scared.
Because she wants this.
She just hasn’t admitted it to herself yet.
I let my power stir beneath my skin, slow and intentional. Not an attack—just a brush against her senses. A dark, velvety pressure curling around her spine like smoke.
Her nipples harden through the thin fabric of her dress. She shifts, thighs pressing together, like she can ignore the pulse building between them.
"You crossed my boundary, Sage."
She flinches, like I’ve struck her.
“I—” Her voice breaks. She swallows. “I didn’t mean to?—”
"You did," I cut in, voice low. Measured. “You wanted to see if you could escape. You wanted to see if I’d come after you.”
I walk a slow circle around her. Her breath stutters.
"You like being chased. But you’re not ready for what happens when you’re caught.”
She shivers.
I stop behind her, close enough to make her feel the heat of my body but not close enough to touch. Not yet.
"I could fuck you right now," I say, soft and cruel against the back of her neck. “Push you against that wall, tear off that dress, and fill your sweet cunt until you screamed my name.”
She gasps—soft, high, shamefully needy.
“But I won’t.”
Her hands curl into fists at her sides.
Not yet.
Because I want her aching. I want her wet and frustrated and begging. I want her to remember this the next time she even thinks about running.
"Strip," I say.
She turns to look at me, wide-eyed. “What?”
I meet her gaze, unflinching. “Take. It. Off.”
There’s a beat of hesitation. Then she does it. Slow. Awkward. Every motion tentative.
And when she’s bare before me, arms instinctively crossing over her chest, I see it.
The flush that runs from her throat to the tops of her breasts. The small tremble in her legs. The way she won’t look at me.
"Look at me, Sage."
She does.
And I see it. The truth.
"You’ve never done this before.”
She freezes.
I take one step closer. “You’re a virgin.”
She swallows hard but doesn’t deny it.
Gods.
Something primal claws up my spine.
Of course she is. Of course no one’s touched her. Of course no one’s been allowed to see her like this, undone and vulnerable and panting with need.
It’s going to be me.
But first, she learns discipline.
I flick my fingers, and my magic answers. A soft shimmer lifts her body and lays her down across the bed—sprawled, legs parted, wrists pinned by invisible threads of my power.
Completely at my mercy.
Exactly where she belongs.
Her eyes—those perfect, pleading eyes—track my every movement like she's already anticipating the wreckage. Like she wants it.
And maybe she does.
But she doesn’t understand what it means to test me. Not yet.
She gasps, arching slightly. “Malachi?—”
“Quiet,” I murmur. “You don’t get to speak. You get to feel.”
My fingers trail down her ribcage, slow and reverent, and I watch the way her hips lift in response—chasing the touch, needy and impatient.
“You wanted to run,” I murmur. “You wanted to see if you could escape me.”
She swallows. “I didn’t mean to?—”
“You did.”
I dip my fingers between her legs and groan at how soaked she is.
“Fuck,” I whisper darkly, running two fingers through the slick mess coating her thighs. “You’re dripping for me, Sage. Did sneaking off make you this wet?”
She gasps when I rub slow circles against her clit—just enough to tease, not enough to satisfy. Her hips buck off the mattress, her legs straining against the bindings, and her eyes flutter closed.
“Malachi—please?—”
"Please what?" I whisper, dragging my fingers lower to tease her entrance, then pulling away just before giving her what she wants.
Her head rolls side to side on the pillow. “Please touch me—like you did that first night—please, I need it?—”
“You want to come?” I ask, brushing the pads of my fingers over her clit again. “You want me to make you fall apart on my hand?”
"Yes—yes, please—I’ll be good?—"
My hand stills.
And I step away.
Her eyes snap open in confusion, chest heaving.
“No.”
She blinks, stunned. “W-What?”
I sit in the chair beside the bed, undo my belt, and pull my cock free—already thick and leaking from how badly her begging’s undone me.
"You think you get to come after disobeying me?” I say calmly. “No, Sage. You get to watch."
Her mouth falls open in disbelief, but her eyes are glued to my hand as I wrap it around my shaft and stroke slow, lazy pulls from base to tip.
She whimpers. Literally whimpers.
"I should be buried inside you right now," I growl, watching her writhe. “Your tight little cunt squeezing me while you scream my name.”
Her thighs twitch, her whole body trembling against the magic that holds her in place.
But I don’t go to her.
I lean back in the chair and keep pumping my cock—slow, deliberate, brutal.
“You want to know what I imagined while you were sneaking out of my estate?” I bite out. “I imagined dragging you back by your hair, tying you to this bed, and fucking you until you forgot your own name.”
Her lip trembles. “Malachi—please—I’ll do anything?—”
“Anything?” I smirk. “That’s cute.”
I keep stroking. Harder now.
I can see her clenching around nothing, see her hips trying to grind against empty air.
“Look at you,” I breathe. “Desperate. Ruined. And I haven’t even let you come.”
Her eyes are wild. Hair splayed across the pillow, breasts heaving, slick coating her thighs. I know its her powers. They're a raging river inside of her, seeking their counterpart-a warlocks powers. It makes her crazy with need and not even I'm immune from the pull.
I come—hot and thick, across my abs and chest, groaning her name like a fucking prayer.
She jerks like it hits her, like just the sound of my release pushes her closer to her own.
But I don’t let her.
I stand. Walk to the bed. The magic holding her down slowly releases, her wrists and thighs falling limp against the sheets, boneless with frustration and overstimulation.
I tower over her, still half-dressed, abs glistening with the mess I made of myself.
And then I crouch, so close our mouths nearly touch.
"You have a choice, Sage."
Her eyes lift to mine, full of hunger and humiliation.
"You can crawl over here and lick me clean. Maybe then, I’ll let you come. Free you from that burden you're carrying. Teach you what it means to lose yourself to the pleasure of another.”
I tilt my head.
“Or...you can walk away. Unsatisfied. Just like you deserve.”
I wait.
Watching.
Breathless.
And hungry for her answer.
She stares at me like she’s already fallen. And she has.
Slowly, slowly, she sits up on shaking limbs and crawls across the bed to me. Her eyes don’t leave mine. And when she reaches me, she lowers her mouth to my stomach, breath trembling as she licks a single stripe through the mess I left behind.
Fuck.
My jaw clenches as her tongue traces up to my chest, her eyes fluttering closed in something between shame and hunger.
I grip her jaw. Not rough. Just enough to hold her still. To make her look at me.
"Good girl," I whisper.
Her breath hitches at the words.
And that’s when I know— She’s mine.
Not because I claimed her in the ritual. Not because I paid a king’s ransom for her.
But because she wants to be.
I pull her into my lap, one hand splayed wide against her lower back, the other sliding into her hair. Our mouths crash together, not sweet or tentative, but starved. Like we’ve both been holding back and now the dam’s broken.
She gasps into the kiss, and I take the opportunity to deepen it—tongue sliding against hers, hand roaming over her bare skin like I own every inch.
And I do.
She whimpers when I roll her beneath me, her back hitting the mattress, legs falling open like she wants to be devoured.
"Tell me to stop," I growl against her throat. "Now’s your chance."
She wraps her arms around my neck. “Don’t you dare.”
My cock twitches against her thigh.
"Good."
I kiss down her neck, to her collarbone, then lower, taking my time exploring her breasts with my mouth—licking, sucking, teasing her nipples until she’s moaning and writhing.
Her hands tangle in my hair. Her thighs press around my waist.
But I’m not done warming her up.
I trail kisses down her stomach, biting gently at the soft skin of her hips. And then I settle between her thighs and taste her.
She cries out, hips bucking, fingers digging into the sheets.
I groan into her—she’s sweet and soaked and made for me.
I eat her like a man starved, licking her slowly, drawing circles with my tongue around her clit, then flattening my tongue and pressing until her thighs shake.
"Malachi—oh god?—"
I slide two fingers inside her, easing the stretch with my power, making it perfect. Her walls clench, hot and fluttering, her body desperate for more.
"You’re doing so fucking good, Sage."
She cries out again, louder this time.
"You want more?" I murmur against her.
“Yes—please—need you inside me?—”
I crawl up her body and kiss her deep, letting her taste herself on my tongue. And then I line myself up and push inside her.
She gasps, clinging to me, and I still.
"It’s okay," I whisper. "I’ve got you."
She’s so tight I could lose control right here and now—but I hold back. Just for her. Just long enough to let her body adjust around me, letting my magic ease the ache.
And when she exhales, nodding faintly, I start to move.
Slow at first. Deep. Rolling my hips until her breath is shaky and she’s moaning into my mouth.
And then—she begs.
“Faster—please—I need?—”
I snap.
I grip her thighs and thrust harder, her cries echoing off the walls.
She meets every thrust, greedy for it, hungry, mouth falling open in shock every time I hit deeper.
“You feel this?” I growl, pounding into her. “This is what happens when you’re mine.”
She claws at my back, her legs locked around my waist. “I—can’t—Malachi—gonna?—”
“Come for me,” I snarl. “Now.”
She screams as she shatters—body convulsing, back arching off the bed, her climax pulsing through her like a storm.
And as she comes, something happens.
Our magic flares—white-hot and wild, a brilliant pulse that ripples across the room.
I freeze.
And then I feel it.
Her.
Inside me.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
Her emotions. Her breath. Her essence wrapping around mine.
And when I look down, there's a mark circling her wrist—black ink, ancient and alive, matching one now etched into my own skin.
The Binding.
A legend. A myth. A magical impossibility.
And it just happened.
She opens her eyes, dazed and panting. “What… what was that?”
I can’t speak.
I just pull her to me, heart racing.
Because she’s not just mine now.
She’s bound to me.
Forever.