A boy. Maybe fourteen, with dark hair and eyes that look too old for his face.
He’s standing between the two corpses, the man’s hand on his shoulder, the woman’s smile strained.
I know that face.
“Wait.” I push past Legend, ignoring his growl of protest, and move closer to the frame. The blood makes my boots stick to the floor with each step, the sound wet and obscene. “I know him.”
“What?” Legend’s voice hits my back like a fist.
I tap the glass, leaving a smudge. “This kid. He’s on Exile Island.”
The silence that follows is absolute.
Then Creed’s there, shoving me aside to get a better look. His breath catches, and something shifts in his expression—something raw and dangerous. “What did you just say?”
“I said he’s on Exile.” I step back, giving them space as Knight and Legend crowd in too. “Just arrived a few weeks ago. I put an arrow through his eye.”
“So, they have a son on Exile Island…” Creed turns to me over his shoulder. “Another connection to you, I see…”
“The thing about seeing, Creed, is I can rip your eyes out so you don’t have that problem anymore.” I flash him a wide smile before shrugging. “It wasn’t me. So I don’t know what else to tell you.”
I turn on my heel, done with this shit, done with their accusations, and done with the way Legend’s stare burns holes into my back. I’m halfway to the tree line when a hand clamps around my arm, yanking me to a stop. The grip is iron, and I don’t need to look to know it’s him.
“Get the fuck off me,” I snarl, spinning around, expectinganother round of blame to spew from his mouth. My fist is already moving, pure instinct, and it connects with his nose in a satisfying crunch. Blood sprays, hot and wet, splattering across his face as he stumbles back a step.
Legend doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even curse. He just laughs—a low, feral sound that vibrates through the air and hits me somewhere deep and dangerous. He throws his head back for a moment, something feral flashing in his eyes, before he lunges at me. My spine crashes against the tree bark, the hit knocking the air from my lungs, and suddenly he’s right there, his body boxing me in completely. Blood’s leaking from his nose, running down over his mouth, but he doesn’t give a shit about cleaning it up. No—instead, he drags his face across my cheek, painting me with his warm, iron-scented mess. I read about this last night. They called it scent marking.
My breathing catches, and goddamn it, I hate how my stupid body responds. My nipples tighten under my shirt, hard and aching, and heat pools low in my belly. I’m pissed, frustrated, and yeah, maybe it’s been too damn long since I’ve had a good, hard fuck—but the urge to grab him and drag him down so he can take out all this tension on me is strong.
I blame the dry spell.
I blame the way he presses into me, the way his blood feels like a fucked-up claim on my skin.
His tongue darts out, sliding along my jawline as he tastes his own blood. It’s dirty and raw and has my thighs clenching together. I can feel him getting hard, pushing against me, rocking into my clit with this slow, agonizing rhythm that makes me gasp for air. “Fuck, you feel that?” Legend rumbles, his voice scratchy and low right by my ear. “Tell me you don’t want this, my little monster.” My hands bunch up his shirt, caught between pushing him away and yanking him closer. My body throws away every bit of self-control I’ve got left.
I’m not some helpless girl he can fuck with.
I grab his hair, twisting my fingers in tight and pulling hard enough that he hisses. It hits me like a jolt of electricity, and I use my grip to shove him downward.
“On your knees, Royal,” I smirk, my voice light but edged.
I’m finished being the one backed against this tree, finished letting him think he’s running this show.
He resists for half a second, those feral eyes flashing with defiance. Then he drops, hitting the dirt with a thud that makes my pulse spike.
He grips my hips, fingers digging into my flesh through the fabric of my pants, and I don’t give him a chance to take back control. I shove his face forward, guiding him exactly where I want him, my other hand fumbling with the waistband of my pants to shove them down just enough.
“Fuck, Haide,” he mutters, voice muffled as his mouth finds me, hot and hungry. His tongue rips through my pussy, rough and hungry, lapping up my wetness with this growl that fucking buzzes right against my clit.
My head slams back into the tree trunk, and I can’t stop the gasp that tears out of me when pleasure hits like a fucking hammer. I yank his hair harder, keeping him locked in place, making him earn every second, my hips grinding against his face while he eats me like he’s been starving for days.
Every dirty swipe of his tongue is desperate as hell, and I can feel everything winding up inside me, my body already about to fucking snap. My nails rake through his hair, holding him exactly where I need him as heat explodes through my core. The orgasm hits like a fucking lightning strike—white-hot and devastating—and I cry out as pleasure shatters through every nerve.
Before I can catch my breath, Legend surges up, his hand clamping around my throat and slamming me back against thetree. His eyes are pure heat, lips glistening with me.
“Listen the fuck up,” he growls, fingers tightening just enough to make my pulse jump. “That pussy? Mine. No one else’s mouth gets near it. Ever.” His thumb presses harder against my racing pulse. “And you don’t come for anyone but me from now on. Understood?”
“Hilarious—”
