“Come on, baby. Tell me you like it.”
There’s aclickwhen her teeth clamp, and I picture her grinding. I can almost hear her brain swirl with all the nasty remarks she wants to say, but she’s smart enough to lock it in. For now.
“Luna.”
“I like it,” she spits out. Her hand slaps the bench before she bunches her tits together with her arms.
She’s close. I could hear it even if I couldn’t feel the way her body tightens or the way her hips lift. I rub her for another few seconds before she explodes. Her lungs empty on a long, sweet moan as she stretches out.
It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. The sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced.
I plant one foot on the floor so I can give her everything I have. If my hands weren’t dug into her ass, they’d be trembling. She jerks while I clench, bruising her just to prove I’m not weak.
“Fuck,” I groan, hips jerking one last time. Luna’s pussy squeezes as cum bursts from my cock, anticipating the orgasm as well as I do. I feel the energy drain as though all of it was stored inside a million squirming cells. By the time the last drop of cum spills, I don’t know how I could fuck in the first place.
No more adrenaline. No more tension. The hell I trekked through most of the night has come for its due.
I pant while hunching over Luna, my leg on the floor the only thing keeping me from tumbling on top of her. She’s still for minutes as she tries to catch her breath, and when we both finally do, I climb off the bench and stare at her. Wait for her to follow my lead.
She doesn’t. I’m positive she plans on sleeping here. For a moment, I consider letting her.
But it’s too cold, in more than one way.
“Come here, beautiful,” I whisper, using the last of my energy to lift her limp body, as limp as if she were asleep. I abandon the lantern and walk blind to the bedroom, counting my steps as I go—mildly self-conscious that she’ll wonder how I can do so without bumping the banister, doorframe, or walls. She doesn’t ask. I don’t think she’s awake.
But she must be because after laying her on the bed, she crawls beneath the covers. There’s no protest when I curl up behind her and wrap my arm around her waist.
I listen for footsteps on the stairs, voices shouting, questions hurled about a missing baby. Expecting,waitingfor the hammer to fall.
But it doesn’t. All is quiet as I fall asleep.
When I wake up, the day repeats.
Again.
And again.
And again.
CHAPTER 15
TWO WEEKS LATER
Father is furious.
I stand with my hands cupped in front of me while he rages at one of many bookcases in the library, shucking copies of “useless garbage” at the ground,crash. At my desk,thunk. Three inches from my sister’s head,gasp. She flinches—weak—but is lucky enough not to draw Father’s gaze.
When he smashes his fist into the wall, it leaves no dent. Not a single crack in the sheetrock. If it were Thorne, he would only need tap it, yet it’s our Chief Elder’s anger which is most destructive, as evidenced by the seraph lying at my feet.
I toe her shoulder, shifting her body as if there’s a chance she’s still alive. She’s already stiffening, her face once a pleasant cream color paling into a sickly gray. Her eyes have been removed, her mouth sewn shut. All for the sin of being seen late last night with Sawyer Hansley, only an hour before another baby miraculously disappeared from the forest.
Someone is helping him escape, and for the sake of my sanity as well as my conscience—however small it may be—I hope it was the corpse.
Doubtful.
“Maybe it’s a mistake with the cameras,” my sister suggests.
Stupid girl.
