It seems rather unfair that mine will be permanent, whereas hers are already glistening with freshly pink skin, ready to be tarnished once again. The heat doesn’t cause my skin to blister. It stays steady, giving off the same amount as a fireplace. Scalpel still in hand, I trail the tip up the length of her side, loving the goosebumps that rise at the touch.
Unable to withstand it any longer, I lick up the length of her torso, savoring the taste as her blood mingles with the acidic taste that belonged to the other. My face hovers over hers, and I crash my lips down, allowing her a taste of the divinity that has any sense I have pushed to the back of my mind.
She moans at the contact, deepening the kiss as much as I allow. She tries hooking a leg around my waist and twisting, trying to get the upper hand and finally get the release she’s craving. I smirk against her lips and wrap one of my shadows around her leg, pulling it off and tying it around one of the bars. I move my legs out of the way just in time. She gasps, her body yanking down a few inches from the restraint.
I settle my knees on either side of her shoulders, relishing in the look of shock smeared across her face. My cock rages against my zipper, pulsing with agonizing need with her in the new position. Something washes over me. I need her. Crave her. Unthinking, my hand moves of its own accord, and all logic tosses to the side as I push my pants down to my knees, not caring enough to stand and take them off fully.
Her eyes go wide. “What are you doing?”
“I told you I would take it as an invitation.” Just like before,those perfectly plump lips drop open in surprise. But at this point, she shouldn’t be shocked. She can see—feel—the effect she has on me. I stroke myself slowly. Once, twice, staring down at her with hooded eyes as she tracks my movements. “Wider,” I demand. She does the opposite, which only makes me want to punish her more.
My thumb digs into the middle of her chin, pinching it with my finger and forcing her mouth open as wide as I need—without unhinging her jaw. Slowly—painfully slow—I lower myself into her awaiting mouth. Her tongue flicks against my tip as I enter, licking the precum that’s already dripping.
And that is the end of my resolve, the only sliver of control I had disintegrating with that first touch. My fingers move off her of their own accord, needing to brace myself with both hands against the cement floor. I thrust in and out, unable to focus on anything else as her cheeks hollow out around me.
“You take me so good,” I praise. Kallie’s teeth scrape against my shaft, not hard enough to be uncomfortable but just enough for me to drive in farther. I bottom out at the end of her throat, almost losing it the second she gags around me, swallowing me deeper.
My neck bends down, admiring the picture of her with me inside of her and the tears that run down her cheeks, creating wet spots on the ground. I pull out of her roughly, knowing if I stay any longer, this will be over before I want.
I pepper kisses down her body, giving extra attention to her pebbled nipples as I adjust back between her legs. Absentmindedly, my knee pushes her free leg out farther, spreading her open for the feast I’m about to divulge in.
Another stream of shadows coaxes out, brushing against the top of her thigh, moving down the length of her leg. It wraps around her ankle, pulling her as wide as her hips will allow before securing it to another bar.
Scalpel still in hand, I turn it around, holding the blade against my palm. Her pussy weeps beneath my gaze, dripping with the evidence of what I do to her. “Does it anger you, Princess?”
“What are you talking about? Does what anger me?”
“That your body betrays you. Getting wet for a monster like me.”
“You’re not a monster, Callum. One is just trapped in your shell.” It hits me then, the sense of pity in her voice. There isn’t a monster trapped inside—it was born there. And she’s sadly mistaken if she thinks otherwise. The blade bites into my hand, a stream of blood falling from the wound. I trace the handle between her lips, wetting it with her arousal. Just one taste. That’s all I need.
But the moment I swipe the handle down my tongue, I know it’s a lie. Ecstasy, in its truest, rawest form. I hum with pleasure. “Just as sweet as I remember.” Plunging the handle inside her, she gasps at the intrusion, attempting to scoot back, but the shadows keep her exactly where I want. The mind-altering headache I thought went away—they seem to always dissipate when she’s near—comes back with a vengeance, blurring my vision. I try to push it away, but it continues its assault against the walls of my skull. Leaning down, my tongue swipes the length of her.
Kallie pushes into me, riding the handle and my tongue at the same time, chasing the release that’s been building since the moment she saw me standing in the room. I push too hard, the smallest part of the blade slipping past my hold.
She hisses, “Fuck!” But it sounds far away, the ringing in my ears drowning her out. It doesn’t deter her, though. Instead, it makes her push harder, and judging by the way she constricts around the handle, I know she’s close.
But somehow it doesn’t keep my attention. It’s like a sixty-forty split, and the gap is increasing with each thrust she makes. Theassault on her clit is like second nature, my tongue continuing on of its own accord as my hand reaches behind me. My fingers wrap around the tube, pulling it out with no thought at all.
Her screams of pleasure bounce off the room, trying to pull away as the connection becomes too much. But I can’t stop. Because for some reason, I think this will be the last time I have her like this. The last time I’ll be tasting her, having her close. It’s a reality that part of me doesn’t want to be true, but the other part—the one that’s growing larger—doesn’t seem to mind at all.
“Callum, it’s—it’s too much,” she pleads. But it’s distant, and it’s the last thing I hear before I stab the needle into her thigh and inject the serum into her bloodstream.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Kallie
My shoulders burn from the pressure, wrists aching from my weight. Fuck my head hurts. I wince, and a sharp pain explodes through my temples when I try to lift it.
Vision blurry, body sore, memory hazy at best.
A gentle, cold breeze enters out of nowhere, thankfully breaking up the beads of sweat forming on my forehead. My head lolls to the side, resting against my shoulder while I search for some clarity.
Callum. That motherfucker. I knew better. Even when it looked like him, my guard should’ve been up. But I let it drop, let him in, because there’s one sick part of me that still craves his presence. His touch. And that part is what got me back here—in Astralis.
My magic is long gone, suppressed by whatever it was he injected me with. Not that I expected anything less, but it’s like second nature to reach for it, use it to help me get out ofwhatever mess I find myself in.
All that running, hiding…Serena’s death? It was all for nothing. I just ended up right back in the prison I started in. Except, the room is different. No longer am I resting in a cage. Instead, they gave me my own private suite. An open room with plenty of area to get a running start to launch myself into the cinderblock walls—that is, if they ever let me out of the chains.
