I want to stay open and beg him to never stop.
“Such a little liar.”
My hands clench against the shadows pinning them. My back bows. My thighs twitch. He curls inside me with a pressure that undoes everything as he hits that spot … that thing that steals my very soul.
“Don’t…” I beg, one final attempt.
“Say you’re mine, Lenora,”he growls into my ear, thick and greedy.
“No,” I choke out. “I won’t.”
Tendrils curl around my throat, tightening with just enough warning to have me squeezing around him as my air is stolen.
“I will have your submission.”Another thrust. Deeper. Harder. My eyes roll back.“I will have you crawl to me, dripping and begging to get fucked.”
I am crying, sharp, ragged sobs that twine ecstasy and misery. I wail as he takes me.
Marks me with his razors.
Fills my opening so full I’m seeing stars.
I’m begging even as I meet every grind. I don’t stop him even as thin, sickly light spills into the room with the parting of my bedroom door.
The shadows whisper. They hiss. The air thickens with ice.
I squeeze my eyes shut at the sound of Marcus’s horrified gasp, unable to face him as I cum on the demon’s cock. As I expel and gush, as I convulse and scream for him not to stop while begging Marcus not to look. Not to watch my shame.
And he roars with triumph and pleasure. He huffs like a wild beast as he slams my bed against the wall.
“Mine!” he snarls out loud, though I don’t think he’s talking to me. “She. Is. Mine!”
Somewhere in the distance, Marcus bellows my name. The sound pierces the silence but barely registers. It’s silenced by thecrack of the door shutting in his horrified face, sealing me in with the darkness that owns my soul.
Chapter Fifteen
Marcus
Ishouldn’thavelethergo alone.
This isn’t the Lenora I knew a month ago. Two weeks ago. This person she’s become is a version I don’t know how to reason with.
From the moment I decided to stay, she had been my greatest cheerleader. Supportive and encouraging. She urged Ames to give me a chance. She welcomed me back so Eliah welcomed me. Never, not once did she throw in my face that I wasn’t fit to be a father.
Now when she needs me, when she’s spiraling and needs an anchor, I’m failing her.
“You should have gone.”
The faint clink of metal clipping together fills the empty space of my room. They hook deep in the recess of my mind and drag the reality to the forefront.
My boys are dead because of me.
I sent them out.
I told them it would be an easy job.
It was supposed to be me.
“You know why you sent them.”
