And Marco was nowhere to be found.
Run.
I bolted.
Thighs whispering, silk snapping out behind me, I sprinted away. Blind with panic, I bounced off the far wall before I found myself staring down the length of a hall. Muscles weak from my days as his pet, bedridden, adrenaline alone lent me the strength to fly. And for three whole breaths, there was nothing but the sound of my heart thrashing in my blood. My lungs rattling as they stretched and strained for enough to sustain my wild flight.
Instinct drove me up.
I took to the stairs without a thought more complex than gaining the high ground. Seizing the bannister in a sweaty palm, I let my momentum swing me in a tight circle so I might surge up. Around. Righting myself with a whine of helpless panic.
But instead of taking the steps three at a time…
… I tripped.
No longer the Wood’s Menace, who slid through the tree tops with death-defying ease, I was bested by a set of rickety old stairs. Betrayed by the mark of my station when my whore’s gown was caught on the railing, sending me crashing into the steps with a strangled yelp and bruised, throbbing shins. Skinned palms.
He was on me before a ragged sob spilled over my lips. Rumbling deep in his chest, heavy as he took a breath and set his teeth against my shoulder. Playing at the tendon with a bite that promised pain, but instead, plucked at a chord that sent an electric wave zipping through my blood.
I hauled my limbs beneath me, bracing on hands and knees as I tried to buck his weight when it fell across my back. Snarling, I reached for leverage with trembling, hooked fingers. Tried to claw my way free of him, even as a wry chuckle puffed against my nape.
Too late, I realized what I’d offered a man reduced to his most basic instinct.
A female on all fours.
Hips tilted up and back, as if ready to take my punishment as a whore ought.
Fucked raw from the back.
Bred. By a monster who matched.
Wicked amusement heated my spine, and without missing a beat, he planted one palm between my shoulder blades. Taking advantage, he drove me down. Down into the rise of the steps. Making space between my knees, he fit his body against mine and let me feel the pulse of his arousal when it kicked against my core.
Exhaling a shuddering breath, I whined. Baring pointed teeth where he couldn’t see the confusion warring with the want.
The rasp of hot, rough hands found an anchor at my hips. Skin grating on skin, he slipped inside where my dress sagged open. Fingers dipping around the jagged edge of my hipbones, to tease at the crest of my mound as he leaned back. And with the other hand, he seized a handful of fat and muscle. Kneading, he let his thumb trace the curve of my ass in a languorous stroke. Bottom to top, tugging at what was secreted away behind a pathetic scrap of fabric, he made a fist of that handful and squeezed. Notched against me. Savoring, even as he shivered against me.
There was no mocking, taunting banter. No seductive lure wound through my nerves to feed me elite energy laced with lust.
He didn’t bother to flaunt his power or force me to acknowledge how my body was reacting to him.
To this.
And I couldn’t bring myself to speak the lie.
Not now, when I clenched at the low, possessive snarl that rasped against my shoulder. Not when I gushed in answer to wandering fingers and straining male flesh.
I was what he’d made me. A whore who’d failed time and again. My every passionate declaration had gone unfulfilled, replaced with such sweet poison. He’d seen me changed to suit his lewd desires. Left me helplessly addicted, just so he might feast on my energy when it was aged to his exacting needs.
A willing sacrifice, I’d already begged for more. Already cried out his name and let him brand every last piece of me with his signature. His mark. His seed. I’d sobbed in delirious relief when he stretched all that was swollen and needy, and turned to him for comfort, time and again.
It was nothing to do it just once more.
Because my body remembered what it was to burn beneath bruising, clutching fingers.
Gasping, my back grew tight as I arched. Pressing back, trying to entice, I set my cheek to cool wood and lifted my right knee one step higher. Leaving the other perched on the lower edge, muscles twisting as I freely offered what was already his.
He moved.
