Page 31 of The Price Of Possession

“Vesper is livid. You're losin’ it, Kieran.”

I flick open my lighter and take a hit. My eyes drift closed. Since when does he lecture me? It's always the other way around. I've talked him off the ledge more times than I can count.

“Fuckkkk,” I mutter under my breath, concentrating on achieving my high. I drown out Zain and his babbling bullshit; not in the mood to hear it.

“You're a mess. You always fixate then spiral, but not like this,” he snaps.

I scoff. “Fuck you, man, I never commented on your fucked up life choices with Vesper. You're the one leaving me to pick up the pieces of your fucked up shit. Using my gun. Offing a Goddamn Elite. You've not got a clue, man. I had to fuck her in Void in front of everyone just li—” I cut myself short. I don't share that story with anyone. I'll take that shit to my grave, just like the rest of my fucked up teen years. Zain suspected something was going on growing up but never said shit. He kept his mouth shut. He tried questioning me when I would be gone for days, chained up and beaten. So, I lied. I can't very well tell him that shit.

I rest the joint between my fingers. My phone settles along the crook of my shoulder and ear while I grab the whole damn bottle of liquor. I tip it back. It burns the way down just like I like.

“What the fuck?” Zain hashes out a heavy breath. I bet he had no clue the levels of shit I've gone to fix all this crap. It doesn't help he's left me with the world's biggest distraction. Fuck the rest of it, I can fix those messes, smoothing things over with Mortensen without committing to his demands. That's child's play. But her? She's a jagged shard in my side that’s fucking it all up, testing my resolve and tempting my inner beast. I don't think Zain expected me to keep her as my own fuck slave, but hey, finders keepers. Guess it's my reward. Vesper will just have to deal with the aftermath of what she'll be when I'm done. If I ever finish with her.

“Yup. I'm not above any of that shit. Rape. Pain. All of it. I'm immune,” I confirm. He doesn't ask why. “It is what it is, man, but you have no clue the shit Mortensen is unleashing. He gave me an ultimatum. Throw Clara back into the Void, take my spot as his heir and marry an Elite bitch.” I swirl the neck of the bottle sloshing the pale liquid inside. I take a heavy swig.

“You gonna do it?” Zain prods.

“Nah. I got him thinking I will. Buys me enough time to get Clara out of this shit and finish graduation, then I'm out of this bitch.” I set the bottle down and finish the joint. My nerves are already settling. My hands shake from the alcohol use, though. I know I'm not well, but it's easier to stay drunk when shit gets hard. I need another good fuck. I push off the bar top and stalk forward peering through the cracked bedroom door at her sleeping form. She looks peaceful as fuck, such a shame I'm about to disrupt it. I need control. I need to own. Temptation flows through me. The power keeps me grounded. Control is the only thing that keeps my chaos from spiraling.

“Get it together, Kieran. You're on the verge of another downward spiral. Think before you do any dumb shit. I know you, and you're impulsive as fuck. Vesper is gonna wanna see Clara. I fucking mean it. Bring her over tomorrow so we can figure things out.” I clench my jaw and hang up on him. My eye twitches. I let the phone fall on the wood floor. My eyes struggle to focus from the Absinthe. The high proof gets me fucked up quick. The smoldering joint is dwindling to nothing but a roach. I flick it onto the floor not giving a fuck about my father’s ire. He can suck my dick.

Get ready for me, sweetheart.

I screw my eyes shut, feigning sleep. I'm terrified. I officially have gotten myself in too deep. My mind is an endless labyrinth. Each time I think I have it figured out, I hit a dead end. I'm ensnared within his disastrous psycho behavior. I grip the sheet bringing it up to my chest. The door creaks open. A sliver of light lands along my closed eyes lighting up my eyelids. Unsteady shuffling echoes along the wood planked floor within these four walls. The bed dips beside me, an alarming omen of what is to come. The heat of his body lights up my spine. I can feel his heated gaze along my exposed skin even in the darkness. I despise how my body reacts to him. Bad boys have always been my downfalls if only for the fact I don't deserve better.

His scorching touch feathers along my neck and spine. His asperous caress sears along my skin. His fingertips slowly inch my oversized T-shirt farther up my body. I fight the urge to arch into his touch. The heat under my skin surges through my veins. He creeps forward over me. His presence lingering. For a moment I worry he's caught me in my lie and somehow knows I'm awake. His lips skim along my cheek, neck, and collarbone. The smell of liquor assaults my senses. My mind reels with what sick game he has planned this time. I should run and never look back. His crazy is escalating. I'm afraid I won't survive it.

He rips the covers from my body. I refuse to breathe in fear I won't make it out alive. His shaky hands roam down to his latest design on my body. He lifts my bandages and traces patterns over the charred flesh etching along each burnt letter of his name. I fight back a wince.

Before I can react, his hand reaches out and clasps around my neck in a death grip. My eyes fly open to meet the eyes of a savage beast. Light pours in from the cracked door illuminating the room enough to see the unhinged awestruck look in his eye. His pupils are dilated while his flame tattoo under his eye dances in the lowlight. His chest heaves wildly. A chaotic seduction. He leans in to plant a tender kiss to my lips. A bipolarity to his violent, sovereign gripping nature. His fingertips dig into my pulse point with a heavy pressure that threatens to take me under. His powerful thighs lock me in place. My body sinks into the mattress. I try to open my mouth to say anything, but his grip is unrelenting.

“Tempting deadly Nightshade,” he slurs against my skin. His free hand traces up my thighs. I refuse to let him fuck me without drugs. He doesn't understand my need to be numb. The haunting memories will resurface, and I'll fall into a helical vortex into the pits of my demented tortured mind.

“P—please.” I grip his biceps, pleading for an ounce of remorse. Choked cries leave my throat. He offers me nothing but destruction.

“Shhh,” he hisses against the shell of my ear. “Stay quiet or I'll slide my cock between those lush lips, sweetheart,” he purrs. He loosens his grip enough so I can suck in a breath.

He slides the borrowed boxers off my body with ease. He slides two fingers into my soaked pussy. “Such a wet whore. Taste yourself,” he orders, releasing my throat. He pulls his fingers free. He forces my lips apart then jams his cum coated fingers all the way to the back of my throat. I gag.

He tsks. “Nah, sweetheart. They'd correct those gag reflexes real quick in the Void. Why don't I help.”

My brows scrunch in confusion. He releases his weight off me and drags my hips down the bed so his thighs are flush with my shoulders. His jeans clad crotch is level with my mouth. His thick bulge is prevalent.

“I'm not—” the words die in my throat when he slaps my cheek. Not hard, but enough to grab my attention. His hand moves to his zipper, freeing his already throbbing hard length. It's still red and raw from earlier. I’m convinced he fucked me for hours in the cemetery. It doesn't deter him, if anything his need isn't satiated. He's a nympho.

Without prompting, I part my lips. It's instinctive. That incites a smirk on his face. “Such a well-trained whore. That's such a good girl,” he praises and it lights a fire within me. A reminder of what I am. I hollow out my cheeks and take him deep into my throat. He cuts off my oxygen when he takes a fistful of my hair. His erotic groans make me throb between my legs. His abs contract. His torso hunches over while his head sags forward. He keeps his eyes zeroed in on me. Evil swirls in his irises, but I want to taste his danger. His hips thrust on their own accord.

“Mmm, fuckkk, sweetheart,” his broken pleasureful cries spur me on. I swirl my tongue under his shaft teasing him. His resolve is slipping. I almost want to press to see how far and how extreme he can be.

Punish me. Tears spill from my eyes without warning. An atavistic echo of my past. They have a hold of me. Dreams of my past intertwine with the present like a specter. I reach out to claw at his thighs. He doesn't relent. His pace increases until he stills, convulsing. Hot cum fills my mouth. Warm and salty. I swallow, my throat clicking at the copious amount expelling from his cock.

His grip loosens on my hair. His ragged breath is the only sound now. He says nothing. He unglues himself from me and passes out next to me with his cock still out.

The liquor steals his consciousness.

I stay absolutely still, afraid to move an inch and stir the beast. This is my chance. Possibly the only one to escape this insanity. My mind is at war with my heart. The danger is written plainly in black and white and yet giving up my scholarship is not an option. The painful realization envelopes me that I didn't earn it. I was chosen for my weaknesses. An offering to the Elites due to my subdued, compliant nature in my sexual haven.

Kieran's breath evens out beside me. The door is still ajar illuminating his gorgeous curls and sharp jaw line. He's a devil disguised as a God. Even now knowing he has readied me for their personal use I can't stop feeling a heavy insatiable desire for him. A need to tangle with him. I’m a fool to think he ever felt anything but sexual desire toward me. This man is incapable of anything other than power, lust, and deception just like his father.