62
Necessary evil. A toxic necessity. My mutual ruin.
Kieran is all these things. I allow him to strip me bare, just to piece me back together into something stronger.
For all his cruelties, he inadvertently built me into a queen fit to rule by his side.
Of course that was never his initial intention.
He wanted to concentrate and focus all his emotions on my annihilation.
It's all he knows. Destruction. Pain. To cause widespread chaos and devastation. His havoc is his synergy.
He dragged me through hell, and though I should have regrets, I am thankful he showed me the world through his eyes.
Some may think it's unhealthy, but I am finally fucking healing in my own way.
This will always be who we are. Volatile.
Capricious. Bonded by trauma. His need to break, own and destroy me will always overpower all else.
Just as my desire to punish myself will always reign supreme.
His lips breach my mouth, tangling with my tongue. His hands hastily snake behind my backside. His fingers sink into my skin leaving flames in their wake. His bloody body presses along mine. I'll crave his touch the rest of my days. “Feel me raw, Nightshade. No drugs.”
Once. That's how many times he's fucked me sober.
My body is still sore from his inhumanity.
The pain is a welcome distraction from the dangers awaiting us in the Void.
Part of me still wonders if they'll accept an impure female as a leader.
Am I even fit to lead? Will I live up to Kieran's standards?
To the Elites? Will Kieran be able to salvage their trust?
“What's going on in that pretty little head?”
he nips along my earlobe. His breathy words hang in the air like a weight.
I waver. “Will I be accepted? Will you keep me?”
He lets out that maniacal laugh that sets me on edge.
“Keep you? Nightshade, you will be my wife. My queen. You belong to me.”
He follows my gaze toward Mortensen's burnt corpse as the sprinklers subside. Our clothes are saturated.
He grasps my chin, keeping it locked on the remnants of our destructive chaos.
“Look around, sweetheart. This was for you. All this shit. This was our war.”
My eyes clock the dead Elites surrounding us, littering the small office like a battleground.
Inky meres of red spilled across the floor.
Pure blood spilled in my name hits me like a stone wall.
He did this for me. He could have walked away.
Left it all behind. He fought for me. For us.
Their dark, vital fluid spreads to our feet, surrounding us.
His tongue licks my salty tears. I hadn't even realized my eyes turned misty. Our lips smash together in a fight for dominance, one he will always win. He hoists me in the air with a low growl. My legs automatically hook around his blood-soaked middle. Blood trickles from his bicep.
He winces but doesn't once complain. His tolerance is resolute to match his tenacity.
I pull back but he grips me closer. His bulge settles against my skirt.
My head falls back. He cradles me in his arms, but he's holding back from unleashing his dark side.
Is he going soft on me? “On your knees,” he moans.
He sets me on my toes. His eyes hold all his secrets.
As much as my body screams at me to obey, I need him to give me more, to open up.
“I'll obey each command if you tell me the darkest parts of you.”
His eyes turn hollow. He's never been challenged in this regard.
His jaw sets. His eyes darken. He hesitates.
For a moment I think I've made a grave mistake, his husky voice interrupts my thoughts.
“My useless sperm donor used to burn me with lighters. It's why I love playing with fire. Literally and figuratively.”
He smirks as his eyes rove over me. Any other man would be terrified of the flames, but not Kieran.
He let the abuse strengthen his resolve.
He watches as I sink to my knees like I promised.
He palms his hard cock straining against his stained jeans.
I lick my lips tasting the salty remnants of his kiss.
His control is slipping. He definitely isn't used to not getting his way.
I will teach this man patience. “Crawl to me.”
His velvety timbre stokes something within me.
I cock my head and raise a brow. He growls, relenting.
“He would lock me in the basement of our estate and the Void for days to mold me into the perfect leader. He had the stone walls secured with chains . . .”
His ocean eyes sink into me. I can see the pain just beneath the surface.
He masks it so well. “Crawl. To. Me,” he enunciates each word with a sharp bite.
I swallow and slink closer to him seductively.
I sway my ass with each movement, giving him the show he desperately desires.
He unzips his jeans but leaves them over his hips as he continues to rub his pulsing member through his boxer briefs.
My pussy throbs at the sight. “Pull my cock out,” he says in a testy tone. When I don't move fast enough, he grasps me by my crown. “So deadly.” His voice is a commanding sibilant bark escaping his lips. “Your turn,” I reply smoothly.
His fist digs into my hair harder, pulling at my scalp.
He grinds his teeth. “I fucked my sister. I am a sick, untamed beast,” His voice cracks, but he quickly hardens.
I slowly reach for his jeans and boxers.
I lower them over his hips. My hand wraps around his cock.
It's hard as stone. Veins run along the base.
The tip has a bead of come and I have to refrain from lapping it up.
We haven't gotten that far with his commands yet. He doesn't release his hold on me.
I want to tell him none of it was his fault.
I want to tell him I still love him through all his darkest moments, but he barks more orders at me.
“My patience isn't finite,” he warns. “But, I know that cunt is still sore, so tell me, angel, is that ass ready for me?”
He mocks. This is his coping strategy. Let that anger rule him. Pain is all he knows.
“No more games, Nightshade. That perfect ass is mine.”
He leads me over to his father’s desk—now his—and slams me against the edge.
He reaches around and knocks off pens, papers and other mementos of his father’s life.
They clatter to the floor with the bleeding corpses.
My heart rate picks up. He presses his palm into my shoulder blades.
My tits, face and neck squishes against the detailed mahogany.
The hard plane of the desk digs into my stomach.
His name in my skin is mostly healed. Thank God. The growl that rips from his throat is bestial. He yanks my skirt from my body, shredding it. His cock springs hard against my ass cheeks. He rubs it up and down my ass crack through my panties.
“Kieran,” I whimper, but my voice is muffled. He doesn't acknowledge me. He shoves my panties aside and spreads my cheeks wide then spits on my hole. My nails dig into the desk, leaving lacerations in the grained wood. I know the sinking feeling is coming. The burn. The delicious stretch.
“Brace yourself, Nightshade. Daddy's coming home.” And with those final words he sinks into me in one fluid motion.