Mood:Primal Hunger & Total Surrender.
The mattress absorbs the impact of my body, but the shockwave rattles my teeth.
I don’t have time to scramble backward. I don’t have time to breathe. Alaric is on me instantly, a shadow detaching itself from the ceiling to consume the light. He crawls up the bed, his movements fluid and predatory, ignoring the ruined tuxedo shirt, ignoring the blood smearing his hand, ignoring everything but the prey pinned beneath him.
He settles his weight over my hips—heavy, grounding, immovable. His knees bracket my waist, pinning me to the dark grey silk sheets. He looks down at me. His eyes are no longer grey. They are black holes, pupils blown wide, swallowing the iris until only a thin ring of silver remains. They are the eyes of a man who has stopped thinking and started hunting.
"You tasted it," he growls, his voice a low vibration that I feel in my chest. He holds up his wounded hand. The cut across his palm is still sluggishly bleeding, a crimson line against the calloused skin. "You tasted my blood, Elodie. Do you know what that means?"
I shake my head, breathless. My heart is hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird, frantic and desperate. But not desperate to escape. Desperate to be caught.
"It means you accepted the contract," he whispers.
He slams his hand down on the pillow beside my head, leaving a bloody handprint on the silk. "No more hiding. No more 'good girl' act. Show me the monster."
He reaches for the neckline of the black lace bustier I’m wearing. He doesn't look for the clasps. He doesn't look for the zipper. He grips the delicate, expensive French lace in his fists. And he tears it.
The sound of ripping fabric is loud in the silent room.Rrrrip.The lace gives way, shredding down the center, exposing my breasts to the cool air and his burning gaze. I gasp, my hands flying up to cover myself, but he catches my wrists. He pins them above my head with one hand. His grip is iron.
"Don't cover it," he commands, lowering his head until his lips are inches from my exposed skin. "I bought it. I can break it."
He inhales deeply, smelling me. He smells of violence—of the wine he spilled, the copper of his blood, and the sharp, musky scent of male arousal. It is intoxicating. It triggers something deep in my brain stem, something ancient and dormant.Fight or Flight?No.Submit and Survive.
He licks the valley between my breasts. His tongue is hot, rough. "You smell like fear," he murmurs against my skin. "And desire. They smell exactly the same on you."
He bites me. Not gently. He sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of my breast, just enough to hurt, just enough to make me cry out. "Alaric!"
"Yes," he hums, the vibration traveling through his teeth and into my body. "Say my name. Scream it. I want to hear you scream something other than silence."
He releases my wrists, but I don't cover myself. I can't. My arms feel heavy, useless. My fingers curl into the sheets, gripping the silk as if it’s the only thing keeping me from falling off the earth.
He sits back up, straddling me. He begins to undo his belt. The metal buckle clinks—a sharp sound that echoes the closing of a cell door. He shoves his trousers down. He kicks them off. He is wearing nothing underneath.
My breath hitches. He is massive. Hard. Twitching with need. I have seen men before. I had a boyfriend in conservatory—a gentle cellist with soft hands. Alaric is not gentle. He is a weapon. He is scarred, thick, and terrifying.
"Look at it," he orders, seeing my gaze waver. "Look at what you did."
"I didn't..."
"You did," he cuts me off. "You let Vance touch you. You let him look at you with his greedy, pig eyes. And you ignited this." He leans forward, grabbing my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. "You made me crazy, Elodie. Now you have to deal with the madness."
He doesn't wait for me to be ready. He doesn't ask if I want this. He knows. He checked the wetness between my thighs in the music room. He knows my body is a traitor. He grabs my knees and shoves them apart. He positions himself between my legs. The tip of him brushes against my entrance—hot, velvet steel.
I whimper, my hips bucking instinctively. "Please," I beg.
"Please what?" he taunts, grinding against me but not entering. "Please stop? Or please ruin me?"
"Ruin me," I whisper. The truth slips out before I can catch it.
Alaric smiles. It is the smile of the wolf who just caught the rabbit. "As you wish."
He thrusts. He buries himself in me to the hilt in one single, devastating motion.
I scream. My head falls back into the pillow. My back arches off the mattress. It feels like being split open. He is too big. He stretches me beyond what should be possible. The sensation is a blinding mix of pain and fullness that whites out my vision.
"Look at me!" he roars.
I force my eyes open. Tears are streaming down my face. He is watching me. He is watching the pain turn into pleasure on my face. He withdraws almost completely, leaving me empty, aching. Then he slams back in.
