19. Drystan
Chapter Nineteen
DRYSTAN
The fucking sight of her is breaking every single thread of control I have left.
My cum drips slowly from her parted lips down onto her bare breasts, thick white trails sliding over her flushed skin in the dim light of the cell. Right in the middle of her chest, where her heart beats for me, even if she doesn’t fully understand that yet.
Fuck.
Ten years I’ve waited for this. Ten years of watching her from shadows, through cameras, through windows.
Six of those years spent rotting in a concrete cage, surviving only on memories of her face, her voice, the way she moved.
And now she’s here. On her knees. Marked by me.
Looking up at me with those wide, hungry eyes while my release glistens on her tongue and skin.
I grip her chin hard, my fingers digging into her soft flesh hard enough to bruise. She doesn’t pull away. My thumb smears a streak of my cum across her bottom lip.
I lean in.
The moment our lips meet, something ancient and feral tears loose inside my chest.
Her mouth is soft, warmer than I ever imagined.
I crush my lips to hers with ten years of starvation behind the kiss, deep, desperate, devouring.
I taste myself on her tongue, salt and obsession mixed with the faint sweetness of chocolate cake, and the combination makes my mind white out for a second.
A groan rips from my throat into her mouth.
I kiss her like a man who has already died once and refuses to return to that emptiness.
I want to ruin her.
I want to lay her down on this cold stone floor and bury myself so deep inside her that she forgets every day she ever lived without me.
I want to mark every inch of her body until even her soul carries my name.
The need is so violent it shakes my hands, but I force myself to keep the kiss just this, only this.
My other hand fists at my side, nails cutting into my palm so the pain can anchor me. If I touch her with both hands, if I pull her against me, I won’t stop. I’ll take everything. Right here. Right now. In this fucking cell like an animal.
I deepen the kiss instead, tilting her head back, licking into her mouth with slow, possessive strokes. Claiming. Worshipping. Punishing. Her soft whimper vibrates against my tongue and nearly undoes me completely.
Ten years.
I pull back just enough to rest my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling in hot, ragged clouds in the freezing air. My hand is still bruising her chin. I can’t let go.
“You have no idea,” I admit, against her wet lips, voice hoarse and shaking. “What you’ve done to me. Every night I watched you. Every night I imagined this. And now you’re here… dripping with me… and I still can’t have you the way I need to.”
My thumb traces her swollen bottom lip, smearing more of my cum.
I want to kiss her again. I want to never stop. I want to consume her until there’s nothing left of either of us.
Instead, I press one last slow, reverent kiss to her mouth, softer this time, almost tender, before forcing myself to pull away.
The distance feels like violence, but I will not take her here. Not like this.
“Drystan… don’t leave me here,” she murmurs. Her eyes are wide, sad, and scared, still glistening with unshed tears.
“I still don’t trust you, Briar.” My voice is calm, certain.
I grab the cart and wheel it toward the door.
She belongs to me. She has belonged to me for ten years.
There is nowhere for her to run. This estate is hers now, even if she doesn’t understand it yet.
Hellebore will keep her. I will keep her.
The moment I turn my back, she lunges.
I feel the knife before I see it, cold steel slicing across the side of my neck.
A warm drop of blood slides down my skin.
She’s breathing hard, still shirtless, my cum still glistening on her breasts and chin, nipples tight from the cold.
The sight of her like this, wild, dangerous, marked by me, sends a dark thrill through my veins.
“I’m not staying here—” she yells, her voice cracking at the end. “I don’t know who you really are, or what this fucked thing is. But I’m leaving!”
She presses the blade harder, picks her hoodie up with her other hand. I follow the movement, letting her think she has control. My little shadow has teeth after all.
“Briar,” I warn. “You will never leave Hellebore.”
She laughs, a sharp, broken sound, then swings the knife wildly near my chest. The moment I shift back, she darts through the door and slams it shut. The lock clicks into place with a final, metallic ring.
I stand still for a moment, touching the shallow cut on my neck, a small smile tugging at my lips. She is my darkness. Unhinged. Lethal. Beautiful. I glance at the empty bed and shake my head. “I was going to let you out tomorrow,” I confess to the silent cell. “Now you will stay here. In chains.”
I crack my neck, pull the spare key from my sweatpants, and unlock the door. She really thought I would walk in here without a way out? She still has so much to learn about me.
The rain has stopped. The estate is quiet as I walk up the stone stairs, leaving the cell door open behind me for when I bring her back. She won’t get far.
Then the alarm on my phone pings, the camera at the back of the estate.
I freeze.
Fuck. She got out.
Real panic surges through me, clawing up my throat.
My heart slams against my ribs as I bolt through the living room, snatching the knife from the table.
I run outside into the damp, freezing night.
The air is heavy with the scent of wet earth and pine, the rain now reduced to a cold mist that clings to my skin.
She found the weak spot, a small hole in the fence at the back of the estate. That fucking menace.
She has no idea where she is. No idea what dangers prowl these woods at night.
The isolation that once felt like protection now feels like a threat.
Ten years of watching over her, six years of surviving prison just to have her, and now she’s out there alone, running from the only place she’s truly safe.
From me.
“Goddamn it, Briar,” I growl, voice hoarse as I tear into the woods, knife gripped tight in my hand. Branches whip at my arms and face. Every shadow feels like it could swallow her.
I will find her. I have to find her.
She will never leave Hellebore.
I stop in the middle of the trees, the damp earth sucking at my boots, my chest tight as I scan the shadows between the trunks.
The wind moves through the branches above, low and restless, carrying nothing but the rustle of leaves.
No footsteps. No voice. Only silence pressing down like a weight I cannot shake.
“Where are you, Briar,” I mutter, the words scraping raw from my throat.
A scream cuts through the trees to my left. I bolt toward it, boots slamming into the uneven ground, every muscle coiled and burning. My heart slams against my ribs with violent force. If anyone has touched her, I will carve them open and leave them for the roots to claim.
I crash through the undergrowth and skid to a stop, breath ragged, knuckles white around the knife still gripped in my hand.
“Drystan. I was about to call you.” He smirks.
“Fuck.” A harsh breath of relief leaves my lips. The fucking twins.
Briar sits on the cold forest floor, Enzo standing over her with that familiar smirk, while Easton leans against a thick tree trunk nearby.
Both of them tower at six-six, bodies built for violence, dressed in dark combat gear with their skull masks pushed down.
Identical black hair, identical grey eyes.
They train out here often, moving through these woods like predators who know every root and shadow.
“So, you brought her to Hellebore already,” Easton says. I nod once. His grey eyes slide over her. “He prepared all of it for you—”
“Did you like the painting?” Enzo cuts in, his voice low.
Briar’s eyes snap to him, wide with fear.
“The painting?” Her voice shakes.
Enzo and Easton stand motionless, waiting. I trust them with her life. We met in jail, bonded over the rot of our shared pasts and worthless parents. When they were released, they came here to watch over Hellebore and over her until I could return. They are still breathing for that reason alone.
“The bloody one?” Briar asks softly, her fear thick in the air between us.
Enzo nods. He rarely speaks, but when he does, the words land heavy. His fingers were made for painting in blood and darkness.
“It’s creepy—” she says quietly.
“It was made with your blood and Drystan’s.” Enzo says, calm and low.
Her eyes widen, lips parting in shock. “What? How did you get my blood?”
Easton’s mouth curves into a faint smirk, his stare never leaving her face.
“Enough.” I step forward and grab Briar by the arm, pulling her up hard against my chest. Her body is warm and trembling, and the contact sends a dark pulse of possession through my veins.
“My blood?” she asks me, voice breaking.
“Yeah. Your blood, mixed with mine.” I state, my grip tightening as I look at the twins. They both nod. I pull her with me, away from them.
She starts to scream. Easton laughs behind us. “Sweetheart, no one will hear you. No one will ever find you here.”
Briar lets out a small whimper but stops fighting, her body going tense and rigid against mine. I can feel her pulse racing under my fingers.
“You were lucky they were the ones who found you,” I grunt, my jaw clenched.
“Two other perverts?” she cries out. “How did they get my blood, Drystan?”
“Enzo stole it from the blood bank after one of your donations.”
She gasps, the sound sharp and broken.
“Move, Briar.” I warn, pulling her harder through the trees, my hand locked around her arm like a shackle.
The forest closes in around us, dark and ancient, and the hunger in my chest only grows sharper with every step.
She belongs here. With me. In the shadows I have prepared.
She needs to understand that or staying here will be a nightmare for her.
A nightmare I won’t mind living in just to be near her forever.
I push open the heavy front door of the mansion.
The thick scent of old stone and damp wood fills my lungs as we step inside.
Cold air clings to the walls and settles heavy on my skin.
I start toward the basement stairs, my boots echoing sharply against the floor, but Briar pulls back hard.
Her fingers dig into my arm with desperate strength.
“No—” she screams. “No, Drystan, please! Not the cell again!” Tears stream hot down her face. “I’ll do whatever you want, but please don’t—”
“Whatever I want?” I murmur. My voice stays low, rough in my throat.
“Yes!”
She gives a sharp tug and stops in front of me. Her hands move frantically to the hem of her sweater but I catch her wrists, my fingers wrapping tight around her skin. Her pulse hammers, going wild beneath my grip.
“Briar,” I say, forcing my tone calm even as the hunger twists sharp in my chest. “I won’t fuck you like this. I told you. When we do, when we fuck, it will be something special. Not some type of trade.”
Her mouth falls open. Embarrassment and fear mix raw in her eyes. Her cheeks burn red under the dim light of the hallway.
“You shouldn’t have left,” I whisper. The words scrape out heavy. I pull her with me down the stairs. My hand stays locked on her arm, feeling every tremble that runs through her body.
This time she follows without fighting. Her head hangs low. Her eyes fixed on the cold stone floor. Each step echoes through the empty corridors, the sound swallowed by the thick silence of the mansion.
I stop at the cell door. The iron feels icy under my palm. The faint smell of metal and old concrete drifts out from the darkness inside.
She walks in without a word. She gathers the blankets and pillows with slow, defeated movements and curls up on the stone bed. A soft sniff reaches my ears as her back trembles slightly under the fabric.
I release a long breath. The air feels thicker in my lungs as I watch her. I step out and lock the door behind me.
Why did she try to leave me?
Why did she run?
The questions burn through my mind, dark and relentless. My fingers tighten around the key until the edges bite into my skin. I will protect her from the world outside these walls. I will make her happy. I will give her anything she needs.
Anything except a life without me.