One breathes heavier.
The other grins.
“Ask yourself,” says the one at the door. “Which one of us fucked you like you were sacred?”
“And which one,” says the one behind me, voice curling like smoke around my ear, “fucked you like you were mine?”
My knees give out.
They both step forward to catch me.
And I let myself fall—unsure which one’s arms I’ll land in.
I land.
Warm skin. Familiar arms. Heartbeat against my cheek.
I don’t know which one it is because the other one is still here—still watching, still breathing, still smiling like he knows he’s winning.
I try to pull back, to look at the face of the one holding me, but hands press to my cheeks. Thumbs stroke beneath my eyes.
“Stay here.”
“With me.”
“I’ll never let him hurt you again.”
The voice—his voice—is gentle. Fractured. Desperate.
“You branded me,” I whisper.
One of them stiffens.
The other tilts his head.
“Because you begged me to.”
“No…”
But my thighs are still wet with his cum. My clit still pulses from the orgasm he forced from me. My chest still aches where the skin is raw with his moth-shaped mark.
“You liked it,” he whispers, lips brushing my temple. “Don’t lie to yourself now.”
The Damien near the door speaks again.
His voice is tighter. Strained.
“He used me, Raven. My face. My voice. But not my soul. That wasn’t me. That thing… it was everything I tried to kill inside myself.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
I don’t know.
Because maybe he’s right.
But maybe he’s not.
Because when I came, I screamed Damien’s name.
