I leaned against the table I’d just bent her over, one hand flat against the veneered surface while I popped my index and middle fingers past my lips. I watched myself in the mirror as I licked the last traces of my mate clean from my flesh.
Just days ago, I couldn’t stand to look at the bare face of my lesser form, not without my mask.
Now, it seemed odd I’d been so ashamed of it for so long. What was there to be ashamed of when a woman like Rayven looked at me like she had?
Catherine had been wrong.
I wasn’t hideous. And even if I was, was it such a horrible thing when Rayven found my ancient scars attractive?
Holding eye contact with my reflection, I dropped my hand and slipped it into my pants. My digits curled around my base, and my lips curved when I found the outer metal of my cuff still wet with her.
Smearing her cream down my shaft, I stroked myself, using her as lubricant.
I was aware that the souls seeking refuge in the various pieces of furniture, paintings, and knick-knacks were watching me with bated breath, and frankly, I reveled in the attention. I wanted every soul in my realm to know what she did to me.
Everything about Rayven held me captive—her scent, her taste, her bratty little mouth, those eyes and the way they silently begged me for all the things she didn’t dare say out loud. Her smooth flesh with its moon-pale color and the way it stained red beneath my rough hands.
And I hadn’t even explored every part of her yet. I still needed to fuck that tight ass.
I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d be her first lover there. That pathetic mate of hers from before didn’t seem like the type to enjoy her in such a manner. I wasn’t sure how many others she’d been with, but I doubted she’d let them venture there.
The thought had my fingers tightening, choking my shaft as my pace turned frantic. My brows twisted, my jaw tightening as the expression on my face took on something wolfish, hunger etching every crease, every scar.
“You’re fucking mine, Rayven. You sold yourself to Death, and now, I’ll own all of you. Every inch of you. Your soul. Your heart. Your pussy. Your everything. It’s all mine. Mine! Down to your very marrow.”
My words came out in short, harsh breaths as I chased my release like a rabid dog in heat.
The corridor, despite it being filled with dozens, if not hundreds, of lost souls, was quiet, filled only with my own mutterings and labored breathing…
Until a voice from nearby—the mirror on the wall where I’d forced Rayven to watch herself be taken from behind—spoke. “My L–Lord. Please…”
The ornate mirror sounded so eager, it must have been torture keeping quiet while I had my way with my little queen-to-be. It seemed its patience had run dry. “I’ve been waiting so long for Judgement. So long. I–I don’t even remember my own name, My Lord. I must find peace. Rest, wherever that might be.”
I gritted my teeth, anger flaring at the interruption. Keeping my grip anchored to my cock, I swiped at the mirror, knocking it off its hook with my free hand.
“How dare you interrupt me, soul?”
It bounced off the table, shattering the glass and sending shards everywhere before it clattered to the ground. The soul slithered from the ruined object in a wisp of smoke, dissipating to find refuge in something else.
The images of Rayven’s naked body, her face contorted with pleasure, the sound of her moans soft in my ear—it all shattered along with the mirror at my feet.
I laced myself back into my pants with a growl and trudged down the hall in search of Rayven. I’d had a feeling pleasuring myself wouldn’t sate the fire roaring in my core anyway.
I only felt at rest when I was inside her. It was for that reason, aside from her beauty and her addicting mouth, that I couldn’t get enough of her.
My addiction to the mortal female was worsening by the hour. In three days’ time, my anger had turned to curiosity, and curiosity had morphed into ball-obliterating obsession.
I needed her, now and always.
I’d chain her to my bed—hells, I’d chain her to my fucking cock for the rest of eternity if it meant abating this gnawing need to have her body wrapped around mine.
Luckily, finding her wouldn’t be much of an issue, even in the never-ending halls of my labyrinthian castle. The collar around her neck, or rather, the gem affixed to it that had once belonged to Catherine, was a tracking spell.
I’d released her from the chain tethering her to my throne, but she was still very much on a leash. She always would be.
It was not only for her protection, but for my own sanity.
This way, I’d always know where my little human was.
