Once Killian is done breaking all ten fingers, he steps back and throws his fist into Michael’s side. I hear an audible crack of his ribs.
Michael can’t stop the howl of pain that erupts from his throat. I don’t think he’s ever been punched in his life. He’s led a pampered life, one of undeserved power and respect. And being hit by one of Killian’s power punches isn’t the place to start taking your first beating.
Killian’s fists land one blow after another in a flurry of bone crushing strikes to Michael’s midsection, and as Michael loses the battle to keep his pain in check and chokes out pleas for Killian to stop, I can’t help but see the beauty of Killian’s body in motion.
The precision, the power he’s unleashing is like deadly poetry. A force of nature, the gathering black storm clouds unleashing their fury in strike after powerful strike of lightning-fast brutality. I find myself drawing closer. I want to taste the power he has in this moment. I want to feel it wrapped around me, running through me. I want to know what it feels like to hurt Michael like he’s hurt me.
Killian must sense me behind him. He turns, his bare chest shiny with sweat, and heaving with effort and rage, his eyes glittering with the promise of more pain to come. I have never seen a more beautiful human in my life. He’s not a monster; he’s a weapon, an avenging angel. My avenging angel.
All the emotion I’m feeling rises to clog my throat as Killian watches me. Then, almost as an afterthought, he spins and delivers a blow to Michael’s jaw that sends blood and teeth flying.
I step forward and grip Killian’s wrists. Look down at his hands. The scabs on his knuckles are busted open and seepingblood. I bring them to my mouth and press kisses on them. Soft, reverent thank yous for bleeding for me, for being the man I need in this moment. His blood is warm and sticky on my lips.
He reaches out and wipes at my lip with his thumb. His gaze travels down my body and then back up to my face as his nostrils flare. He rubs the hem of my dress between his bloody fingers then leans down and kisses me, long and deep, his tongue sweeping against mine, urgent and hungry, igniting a fire in my core.
I know he can taste his own blood on my lips, just as I can taste the salt of his sweat. It’s primal and intimate, stoking something inside me that wants to share everything with this man. Give him everything. Take everything he gives me.
He pulls back and looks into my eyes. “Do ya trust me?”
Somewhere in the background I can hear Michael’s ragged breaths and curses. The beautiful symphony of pain that Killian created because this man hurt me. If I had to name the song, it would be Devotion. “Yes.”
“Be right back.” He leaves me standing in front of Michael.
I force myself to raise my chin and look him in the face. There’s blood seeping from his mouth, dripping thick strings onto his white dress shirt, which is soaked in blood over his ribs where Killian must’ve broken the skin, too. His nose is crooked and swelling and dripping snot as I watch. But his dark eyes are still staring back at me, defiant and mocking.
I’m almost impressed. Is he really arrogant enough to think death won’t come for him?
His voice is nasally, his words and breaths choppy with pain. “You think… you can have a normal life… with him? You’ll never be free of me, Samantha. I will live… in your head forever.”
I stare at him and it hits me. He’s just a man. Not a devil. Just flesh and blood… and broken bones, a flawed human who bleeds just like me.
My perspective is shifting like seismic plates in my mind. I always thought I’d be running, looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life. That I’d have to hide Rona to keep her safe. But is it possible I won’t? After all, he isn’t immortal, or even powerful right now. He’s weak and bleeding, and if I know Killian, currently breathing his last breaths on earth.
But is he right? Will he live in my head? That’s the only question left.
Killian’s soft command comes from behind me. “Come here, love.”
I turn and see he’s brought a wooden chair over and is sitting in it, legs spread.
Turning my back on Michael, I walk to stand in between Killian’s powerful thighs. I place my hands on his bare shoulders while he grips my hips.
His eyes are fierce and swirling with emotion as he looks up at me. “You said you want him to know he didn’t break you. That you can be happy once he’s gone.”
I nod slowly, tilting my head, wondering where he’s going with this.
He slides his hands down my hips to my thighs. As he pushes my dress up my legs, his thumbs stroke my inner thighs softy, “Then show him. Show him how you are still capable of pleasure. That he didn’t fuckin’ break you.”
My heartbeat knocks in my chest as I realize what he’s asking me to do. I stare into his eyes, drawing strength from him. Can I actually do it? I turn my head to glance back at Michael, but Killian squeezes my thighs, bringing my attention back to him.
He shakes his head. “This isn’t about him. It’s about you. For you. Whatever he sees right now, I can promise you he’ll be takin’ to his grave.” Flicking out his tongue, running it over his bottom lip, he shows me the piercing that has given me so much pleasure.
My body immediately responds, my skin tingles, my core contracts. Leaning forward, I hold his gaze as I kiss him. My body softens, pulses, craves his. “More,” I whisper into his mouth. “More of you inside me.”
With a soft growl, his hand slides up, pushing aside my underwear. He slips one finger through my slickness and then pushes it inside me. “You’re so ready to show your devil how you come for me. Only me.”
I gasp. The blinding pleasure is instant, and I close my eyes, feeling the heat rush through my body. I know Michael can’t see what Killian’s doing, but it gives me an unfamiliar thrill to know he can tell I’m feeling pleasure, to know I can feel pleasure in his presence. I can feel pleasure despite the ways he tried to take it from me.
Killian adds a second finger and pumps deeper, grinding his palm against my clit. “Show him you’ll be more than fine, love. That you’ll be happy.”
