He was speaking to her, but looking at Rul, already stalking around the table to meet the other demon. As Isabelle followed the servant, she saw him lower his pants and grasp Rul by the hair, the rest of the scene disappearing as the door swung shut behind her.
Isabelle lay in bed, examining the knife and trying to fend off sleep, though it called to her. The marble handle fit perfectly in her grip, and the blade had sliced through the thick roast with ease. She had little hope that it would do much, not when she had seen the power of Bellinor’s true form, but she owed it to the moon mother to try.
She wasnotcorrupted, just… lost. Misguided. In need of Celeste’s love now more than ever.
It was the only true love she’d felt since the death of her father, and even that had been marred by grief and loss. But the moon mother had guided her, protected her, loved her even when she sinned. If the Goddess couldn’t forgive her, Isabelle didn’t know what she’d do, so instead, she purged the thought from her mind and waited.
She was nodding off to sleep when she heard a noise, a door creaking open and footsteps moving through the room. The knife trembled in her hand, and she tried to hold it steady, awaiting the intruder. She had expected him to come–or him and Rul–but now that the moment was here, she wasn’t certain she’d be able to do what needed to be done.
She closed her eyes, holding the knife at her side and trying to steady her breaths.
The mattress shifted as someone got on the bed and straddled her waist, pinning her. A hand cupped her cheek, and then a gentle kiss was pressed to her forehead, warming her despite the icy chill racing through her. She shouldn’t enjoy this, but there was something thrilling about danger being just a breath away, about the idea of someone needing her so badly they’d resort to something unforgivable.
She dashed those thoughts as the sheets were pushed aside, a hand sliding under her sheer nightgown and questing toward her center. Before she could second guess, Isabelle lifted the knife, blindly stabbing into the air above her until a hard form stopped her. She screamed, letting go as the embers in the hearth flared to life, revealing Bellinor in his human form caging her to the bed.
The marble handle stuck out of his shoulder, almost a mirror to the spot where he’d marked her with his bite, and there was a wicked grin on his face.
“Naughty plaything. Was I not clear with my expectations?”
He gripped the handle, jerking it from his body and letting sticky blood drip onto her nightgown. She watched in horror as he pressed the flat of his tongue to the blade, licking it from handle to tip, then flipping and doing the same on the other side. His wound still oozed–a red bloom staining his skin–but the bleeding already seemed to be subsiding as he pressed his palm to it, stifling the flow.
After just a few seconds, he brought that hand to the knife, the milky white marble grip turning red as he slicked it with his blood.
“You’re going to pay for that, my dear. Rul already received his punishment for failing to obey me, and it appears that you wish for the same.”
He tossed the knife in the air, catching it by the blade and bringing the handle to her inner thigh.
Isabelle swallowed hard, frozen in place as he traced it along her leg, leaving a wet streak of blood, before prodding it against her entrance.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes wide with terror.
“If you’re going to misbehave, then I won’t reward you with my cock. But there are plenty of things I can fuck you with.”
She winced as he penetrated her with the handle, the blood still warm and easing the way along with the unbidden arousal slicking her interior.
The bright red against her skin was a visceral contrast, flaming her passion despite the fear inhabiting her. It was primal, though different from the way he had hunted her in the woods, a pure show of his power over her. Her attack had barely caused a scratch, the wound already closing as if it had never been there in the first place.
Isabelle whimpered as he pulled the knife out before plunging it back in and sending a shock up her spine. She gripped the sheets, her body succumbing to his ministrations. The handle wasn’t sizable, but he shoved it into her in just the right way so that it stimulated her sensitive spot. With an arch of her back, she was moaning into his touch, wanting more,needingmore, as desperate as she’d been back in the forest.
Bellinor pulled the knife out, teasing her clit with the handle, and she grabbed his wrist, trying to coax him back.
“Please,” she begged, and he let out a chuckle, so low it vibrated her nerves.
“So needy. Maybe I should leave you here all alone tonight?”
He pulled away, but let her restrain his arm, though he surely was stronger.
“Don’t,” she said, dragging him back until the handle prodded at her again. “Please don’t go.”
The air was tense with expectation, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she waited to see what he would do. Was she really begging him to stay? After she’d stabbed him? Goddess, she couldn’t keep her mind straight, not when she was around him, likethere was some sort of intoxicant in the air that made her lose all sense.
The thought of him leaving made her stomach churn, not wanting to be alone in this strange room. Not when she craved his touch, needed it like she needed air. It was what had drawn her into the woods when she knew she should have gone straight to her cottage. She wanted to be desired so fully that someone had to take what they wanted from her, no matter how she protested.
It wasn’t love, of course it wasn’t, but it was something that made her feel alive.
A flash of emotion crossed his face, the shadows etched deep in the low light of the fire. He was still for a long time, the crackling of flames the only sound until he tossed the knife, letting it clatter to the floor.
Before she could cry out, he was jerking down his pants, his cock springing free as he gripped the backs of her thighs and hiked her legs up. He spread her wide, bringing his tip to her bloodied entrance before slamming in without warning.
