I slump against Shadow Killian, my body spent, my legs going limp. I crash and burn; the letdown after that high, almost unbearable. I’m trembling in withdrawal, my body addicted to the rapture only Killian can bring me.
He’s lapping my juices up, licking me clean of arousal and just a trickle of blood. His eyes are feral, trimmed with the slightest shade of red, and his chest rumbles low and menacing.
“Your flavor is the best Akaoridamn thing I’ve ever tasted, little umbra. One day soon, I’ll sip your blood like the fucking ambrosia that it is.” He growls as he moves further up on the bed, and I can barely whimper in response. My thighs are drenched all over again.
“You’re magnificent, Aimee. My personal narcotic, crafted by Akaori herself to torment and enslave me.” He nudges my entrance with the crown of his cock, slowly rubbing himself in my wetness. My juices have slid down my slit towards my ass, and I feel his double coating himself in them too. “You’re a drug I don’t want a cure for, a numbing poison and a thrilling elixir, all wrapped up in voluptuous exaltation. A gospel only my body knows how to sing.”
“Killian,” I whine, as all other words have vanished from my brain. The only thing I can repeat over and over again is this vampire’s moniker. A creature of darkness, with blood on his hands and filthy poetry in his very soul.
I wriggle my hips between them, searching for the friction my body craves, and that they’re both so willing to give. In two swift, coordinated movements, they enter me at the same time, and I scream in pleasure and pain.
I feel every inch that fills me up, each sensation they wring out of me, and it’s almost—almost—too much to endure.
They establish a steady rhythm of push and pull, one filling me up as the other withdraws, their cocks chasing each other out in me like the sun and moon that never meet over the great expanse of the sky. I’m no longer a female, no longer a being made of flesh and bones, but pure sensation of sunlight, moonlight and ecstasy. And yet it’s not nearly enough, never enough. I needmore of them in me, more of us blending together as one in flesh, shadows and blood.
Killian seems to sense my need just from my hitching breaths, and as he wraps a hand around my throat, squeezing the air out of me, he switches his pace. They’re now pushing inside me at the same time, their cocks,hislengths, battling each other for divine supremacy. I can feel them both through my thin walls, prodding in unison, and the feeling brings me ever closer to my climax.
He lowers his head to my breasts, nipping, biting my nipple, just as a shadowy hand twists the other nipple excruciatingly slow.
It’s finally too much! The biting, the rolling, the penetrating feel of them, and my constricting airways make me shatter with the loudest, glass-cracking howl.
I see stars, black holes, galaxies imploding and exploding—the entire fucking cosmos—behind my closed eyelids.
My walls clench around them hard, as the orgasm to end all orgasms devastates me. I’m spasming, milking their cocks dry, and Killian is soon to follow, clenching his hand around my neck tighter, and spilling inside me violently. He falls forward onto me, and we lie there in blissful serenity, as his shadows vanish from behind me, returning on his chest as inky, swirling tattoos.
“Fuck, baby, I think we’ve just ruined each other for all eternity,” I rasp sleepily, and he chuckles against my cheek before pecking my lips tenderly.
“I’d rather be ruined by you, sweet umbra, than unharmed in a world without you.”
“Such a bard,” I sigh, my eyes heavy with exhaustion.
I fall asleep cocooned in his arms, safe and happy, for the first time in…probably forever.
“You never learn your lesson, filth, do you? How many times do I have to drill into that empty head of yours…You’re nothingand deserve nothing! You’re the bacteria swimming in the filth on the back of my shoe. A worthless whore, unworthy of love, unworthy of him!”
CHAPTER 24
Aimee
Thesweetscentofsummer—berries, lavender, and fresh-cut grass—dances in the warm afternoon breeze. The fields outside of Vroni sparkle under the golden glow of the setting sun. A gentle hand tugs me forwards, and I follow its shape up to a grinning, green-eyed boy.
“Come, sweetheart. I have a little surprise for you. For your sweet fifteen.” Jonathan’s wide smile is blinding like the sun, and my heart skips a beat as he pulls me along the winding path.
I can’t believe I have a boyfriend.
I believed this day would never come, not as long as I lived in the crippling shadows of my twin.
Jonathan’s the son of a wealthy noble Fae family, and his grace and chivalry are only outmatched by his boyish beauty. Fair skin with just a dust of freckles on his cheekbones and straight nose, wild and unruly golden curls he wears like aprecious crown, forest-green eyes that watch me from under long lashes, soft lips that haven’t touched mine yet—I still can’t believe such a handsome boy chose me.
“Where are we going?” I ask, giggling as I walk alongside him with a spring in my step.
“Somewhere special, baby doll. You’ll see,” he says, lifting my fingers to his mouth and grazing his gentle lips over them in a chaste kiss. I smile dreamily, lost in the reverie of this beautiful boy who took a chance on the shy, introverted girl with no magic. Never would I have dreamed that someone like Jonathan, so fancy, so handsome and magnetic, would ever look at me. I’m quiet and average, nothing like the girls my age. Nothing like my sister, attractive and gaining the attention and favor of anyone she sets her sights on. Whereas she’s wearing the finest silks in pearly pastels and delicate silks adorned with lace, I only wear the gray, dull hand-me-downs the servants give me. She bathes in rose baths, scrubs her skin with honeyed sugar and wears the finest jewelry that father’s money can buy. I’m not allowed the same pampering or ornaments.
But not today, no! I caress the folds of the cerulean taffeta dress that I found in a pile of Aurora’s old clothes, left for the maids to choose from. It’s simple and a little outdated, but still far lovelier than anything else I’m allowed to wear. My usual dresses are gray and drab, like the clouded November sky over Vroni.
She would absolutely punish me for taking her old dress though, even if she discarded it, for being boring and out of fashion.
I frown at the passing thought. Good thing, then, that she’s out of town with her circle of high-society sycophants, celebrating her fifteenth birthday in a lavish manner.
