“Delilah,” he breathes, my name clawing from his throat, raspy and just as desperate as I feel. The head of his dick notchesagainst my entrance and I whimper, my grip on him loosening. “Come on, Kitten. Bite me. Tear me apart. Let me feel how much you want to be mine.”
My teeth sink back into his flesh as he inches into me. The stretch of him makes me cry out, and tears prick my eyes from the intensity of it all. The knowledge that part of me was so close to being stolen.
His fingers dig into my thighs, holding me up as he slowly eases in until he’s fully seated. His lips press mine, and he takes my lower lip in his teeth, biting just a tad too hard as he pulls out, then stills. The metallic blood touches my tongue, and pain slices through my lip as he sucks.
I know it’s coming, but when he slams forward, I cry out as his teeth sink harder into my flesh. He drives in deep, and then he’s moving, fucking me roughly. All I can do is hang on and let him take. Let him give. Because this time, he’s giving me as much as he’s taking.
This is us. Him and me.
He thrusts into me brutally, almost savagely, over and over, and it feels like I’m ripping in half. Like he’s trying to burrow under my skin. Reaper sucks at my lip, driving his tongue into my mouth, the metallic taste of my blood mixing with his fire. It all builds up, a coiling low in my belly, until it feels like when it releases, it might be my undoing. But then my orgasm hits, ripping from me with a scream, and I melt into him, nails digging into his shoulders. His teeth scrape my jaw, then sink into my neck. The bite of pain makes me cry out, but he doesn’t ease up. He sucks at the skin, driving in harder and harder until pain blurs the lines of pleasure, and he grates out a desperate, anguished sound.
Reaper’s movements become sloppy, his fingers gripping my ass tightly as he rocks, then his hot cum floods me. He releases my neck, and his open mouth presses to mine as hemoans. Then he stills, breathing heavily against my mouth. With his dick still hard inside me, he tightens his grip and carries me through the door, and across the room, placing me on the bed.
I fall backward, boneless. He keeps our bodies connected, holding himself over me with one arm propped up near my head. He’s just a shadow above me, and I want every dark place inside him, even if it’s full of nightmares.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper. “What you planned? Snyder? Everything?”
His sigh fans my chest. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you. The stakes are too high to fail.”
“I know,” I say, trying to sit up underneath him, but he presses his palm to my chest, keeping me pinned to the bed. “I won’t fail.”
As I say it, I’m certain. There is no room for failure. If I do, everyone I care about could die. If I fail and Rune kills me, or worse, captures me, he will murder everyone, burn that whole place to the ground to seek revenge. Because he would know that they got to me. Turned me. And Rune wouldn’t just kill me, he’ll kill everyone and everything I loved first.
Cora.
Them.
Every single move Reaper has made has been an insidious creeping into my soul. A slow, yet violent taking of my heart. The fierce desire to protect them. The desperate want that constantly lives inside me to be theirs, for them to be mine. To avenge Cora.
Reaper slips out, and his fingers delve between my legs and drive in roughly, moving his cum in deeper. “This is ours.”
I tilt my hips, opening for him. “Yes.”
“No one hurts what’s ours.”
“No one,” I whisper.
“If they do…”
“We’ll take them to hell screaming.”
A rumbling chuckle leaves him. “Good girl.”
Chapter 39
Viper
25 Years Ago, June, Age 7
We’vebeensittinginclass for hours, doing math and then reading from old books with cracked leather spines, when the bell finally rings and we’re dismissed to go out into the yard for a break.
I hate reading aloud because I mess up the words. Father says my accent is improving, but that I need to be conscious of how fast I talk, to slow down, so I enunciate the words clearly, and don’t say the words wrong.
It’s hard to change the way you do things when you’ve been doing them your whole life. And I’m only seven. The otherboys in the school, the ones older than me struggle more, but Fallon seems to focus on me the most. Reaper and Hunter too.
At first, it made me feel special. Until I noticed the other boys didn’t like it too much.
My brothers. They don’t feel like brothers. None of them do. They feel like classmates who give me strange looks when we stand in formation, right before we run laps in the yard. Like how the other boys at Saint Theresa stared at me. Like I was odd.
