Chapter 17
“DO YOU KNOW WHAT it is?” Isabelle asked as Rul escorted her down the endless hallway, clasping her hand tightly.
“Of course, I do. But I’m not telling you.”
She grumbled her displeasure, though a smile still beamed from her face.
Whatever surprise Bellinor had been working on was finally ready, and she was eager to find out why he’d been hiding from them for so long.
Rul led her up to a new door, one that she hadn’t recalled from her original tour or the preceding explorations they’d done. It was simple, and made of knotted wood, and he gave her a wink before turning the knob.
They entered into a space that looked suspiciously like the main room of her cottage.
It didn’t just look like it, though, it was her cottage.
There was the wooden chess set her father had crafted, the kitchen filled with fresh fruit and vegetables from the market, and Bellinor sitting in the same chair he had when he had first followed her home.
Before she could question what was happening, he explained.
“I hope I made an adequate replica.”
“You made all this?”
She was dumbfounded, especially when it seemed to take all of Rul’s energy to make a simple meal or dress for her.
Bellinor stood, walking up to her with a sheepish look.
“I thought you would enjoy it. I know you… miss Marilet.”
Shamefully, she hadn’t actually been missing her home all that much, not when her days were filled with more hedonistic pleasure than she could imagine.
“You can paint your landscapes here, too,” he said, nodding to the front door.
Her brows furrowed in question as she walked up to it, turning the knob, and feeling the breeze on her skin as she exited the faux cottage. The forest was exactly as she had remembered it, blessed sunlight warming her skin in a way she hadn’t felt since entering le Voile.
The men flanked her, taking in her reaction, and she swallowed hard, turning to Bellinor.
“Thank you,” she said, grasping his hand, which caused his eyes to widen. “It’s beautiful, truly.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said with a relieved smile.
“It just about killed him to do it in such a short time,” Rul added, and Bellinor rolled his eyes, though the sentiment pleased her.
Rul hugged her from behind, nuzzling the top of her head until she turned around and met his devious grin.
“What?”
“Just thinking about how you ran through these woods trying to escape Bell,” he said, hugging her close. “As if he would’ve let you go.”
Arousal electrified her as the memory of that morning came back, the exhilaration of her attempted getaway, though even at the time, she had known it was fruitless.
The frightening demon form of Bellinor—which she had yet to see again—frightening, yet so intriguing that she’d begged him to claim her.
Her last day earthbound.
It felt strangely right to be here once again, even though she knew this place was fabricated from le Voile.
Even stranger, it felt right to be here with the two of them, anticipation invigorating her.
Straying further from the moon mother every day, though it was getting more and more difficult to care.
“Should I try to run again?” she asked, and Rul let out a surprised huff, gripping the back of her neck and forcing her to look up at him.
“Oh, sweet one, we’d like nothing more than to chase you through this forest and fuck you into the dirt. Because you know we’ll catch you. We’ll always catch you. There is no escape.”
Isabelle swallowed hard, yet again aroused by the feral way he wanted to claim her.
“That’s not a good idea,” Bellinor said.
“Why not? Afraid you can’t control yourself, that you’ll wreck our pretty little plaything?” Rul asked. “Don’t worry. She can take whatever we give her. I’ve made sure of that. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
He gripped her hair, jerking her up to face him, that delicious dominance already dulling her mind.
“I can take it,” she murmured, not caring whether it was true or not.
“She can take it,” he agreed, releasing his grasp on her hair and eyeing Bellinor. “What do you think?”
“If it’s what she wants.”
Bellinor looked at her expectantly, and she cleared her throat.
“I want it. I want you to chase me.”
She tried to focus on the moment and not the deeper meaning of the words, meaning she couldn’t bear to admit aloud. A profound need to be loved, the way she loved the moon mother, but corporeal. Real.
“Then you better run,” Rul whispered, releasing her from his grasp.
She looked at Bellinor, who nodded, then began to back away slowly, her submissive gaze glued to both of them. Their eyes flashed milky white, maws extending and bodies growing, wings unfurling behind their backs.
Menacing smiles split both of their faces, and as Rul began to chuckle, she turned and ran.
The excitement was overwhelming, her heart pounding as she tore through the woods, no path in sight, just limbs and undergrowth impeding her at every turn. There was no hope of escape, not into town and not to her cottage, and that thought only thrilled her more.
What would happen when they caught her?
She had no time to fantasize, not when she heard her name being called, an echo that enveloped her in its sound.
“Isabelle…”
The voice came from all around her, deep and throaty, and a shiver trembled up her spine. She changed direction, then changed again, no idea where she was going, every ounce of energy focused on getting away.
“It’s so cute when you run, sweet one.”
Another voice–one she could only assume was Rul’s–echoing around her, like she was prey being circled by the predator.
Predators.
“What are we going to do when we find her?”
“We’re going to fuck her until she begs for mercy.”
They were mocking her, and she loved every moment of it, was eager for the finale, especially knowing Bellinor had made all this for her. Her very own woods, handcrafted from le Voile.
Isabelle ducked behind a large tree, trying to catch her breath, attempting to listen for any sign of movement, though she knew it was useless when they were as silent as hawks.
There was a rustle in the brush behind her, and she started running again, though slower than before, her legs beginning to ache.
“I think our little plaything wishes to be caught,” a voice singsonged, deep bellows of laughter reverberating from all around her.
“Naughty girl. I suppose we should give her what she wants.”
There was a loud crash, and Isabelle screamed as she was knocked to the ground, a shadow blocking out the dappled sunlight peeking through the trees. She gasped for air, desperately trying to suck in a breath as Bellinor flipped her over and grabbed her arms, restraining them above her head.
Rul was at her feet, holding her flailing legs as she tried to kick him. He hiked her dress up with his tail, letting the warm tip brush over her stomach and tickle her skin.
“You did so good, little prey. And now it’s time to eat you up.”
Without warning, he opened his mouth, fangs glinting in the sunlight before they punctured the soft flesh of her inner thigh. Isabelle let out a howling scream, struggling in their grasps, though they held her down.
A second later, Bellinor was at her shoulder, reopening the wound from their last time in the woods. The pain was immediate and sharp, her head swimming as they drank from her, forked tongues lapping at her sticky blood.
Tears spilled down her cheeks, wetting the mossy ground, her body trembling as the pain started to subside.
There was a growl, then Bellinor tackled Rul to the ground, their hard bodies colliding in a flurry of feathers.
Snarls emanated from the fray, the men wrestling until Bellinor ended up on top, straddling Rul’s waist, their cocks pressed together.
He pinned Rul’s arms with one large hand, the other stroking over both of their lengths in tandem, the slickness of her blood easing the way.
Isabelle was frozen to her spot, entranced by the sight of their cocks rubbing against each other, Bellinor’s hips rocking, the moans emanating from each monster.
She wanted them both inside of her, her mouth, her cunt, whatever they desired.
But they wanted a fight, and she would do what little she could to provide that.
She rolled over, trying to crawl away, though all of her limbs felt like they were made of gelatin. She didn’t get far before she heard a chuckle, someone grabbing her ankles and dragging her back along the mossy ground.
There was a jolt of pain as she was spanked, her cunt tightening from the strike.
“Where do you think you’re going? Aren’t you eager to get your holes fucked by us? Should I take your ass today?”
Rul swiped his hand through the blood dripping from her thigh, painting it over her tight ring as an erotic whimper escaped her lips. He hiked her hips into the air, then shoved a finger into her hole, her cry echoing to the treetops.
Bellinor was in front of her, kneeling and petting his fingers along her cheek, a look of pure rapture on his bloodied face.
“Do you want him to stop?” he asked, cocking his head.
That strange, disembodied voice filled her with bliss, the monstrous beast before her stroking her so softly.
Even Rul was being gentle–as gentle as he could, at least–pressing another finger in as her tight ring clamped down on him.
He was shaking, one hand gripping her like he was a moment away from losing control, the deep growl rumbling in his chest sending a pulse of arousal through her.
“No,” she breathed, looking up at Bellinor as she pushed herself onto all fours. “Please don’t stop.”
Bellinor shook his head with a violent smile, shifting his grip and tangling his fingers in her hair.