Page 313 of Breathe Like Hell

All the things I needed from Micah Killshaw.

He hit me harder than he did when I was a human, and the bruises still faded faster. But it was significantly more enjoyable this way. I could enjoy the feeling of fresh welts on my ass as often as I wanted, without having to be sore for an entire week. Sore for the rest of the night maybe.

And I didn’t mind being sore for a night. It meant Micah would take care of me even more than usual, cleaning me and feeding me and holding me extra securely while I slept. Mason, too. He didn’t often participate other than watching while Micah brutalized my ass, sometimes standing next to Micah and cupping his cock, kissing his neck. But the pain was the central focus, and that couldn’t be dulled by anything else.

Before Micah, I hadn’t considered masochism much. I craved pain sometimes, but I always craved fear more. The edge of death.

But now, I loved it. Somehow, it was healing things inside of me I’d never been able to touch any other way. Like the snap and sting could reach the deepest, most hidden places of my soul. The oldest ones. Broken down to my most vulnerable core, taken care of in the way I’d always dreamed of.

I loved the mean look on Micah’s face when he hurt me, loved the flex in his muscles, loved seeing this side of him which so few people often got to see. Uninhibited and lost to instinct. Filling his own well while filling mine.

He was a sadist, yes, but more than that.

He liked pain in any form, craved it, needed it. Inflicting it on others, inflicting it on himself. It wasn’t only sexual, nor was it only punishment. It was love, trust, vulnerability.

It was everything.

━━━━━

“I don’t need both of you in my head,” Mason complained, slumping in his seat. We’d just picked him up in the truck after he finished his demon work. “I’ve been dealing with this line of work on my own for a long time.”

“You have no Sigeian Angelakia now,” I reminded him. “And you’re not on your own anymore.”

“What she said,” Micah echoed.

Mason dragged his hands over his face, groaning. “Fine. I will admit I feel pretty fucking good right now.” He laughed. “I mean, what the fuck. You’re fixing things I didn’t even know were splintered.”

There were no real fractures to seal, but sometimes murdering literal demons generated a bit of instability in his head. Some rough edges, made rougher by using his powers more than usual. Micah and I could easily smooth them out, allowing Mason to relax at a level he never had before.

One Sigeian was no match for true Thrausian instability.

But two?

I smiled, leaning over to kiss Mason’s cheek. “I love you,” I murmured.

“I love you, too. And I have something for you.”

He dug a permanent marker out of his pocket and handed it to me as he flipped the visor down in the truck.

“Write your name up there, baby,” he instructed.

“Are you sure?” I sucked my lower lip between my teeth, afraid to intrude on this part of Mason and Micah’s separate history. I didn’t want to vandalize their life before me.

“I’m sure,” Mason said.

“Yes, Masters,” Micah added, reaching over to squeeze my thigh as I knelt on the bench seat, tugging the cap off the marker and gripping it between my fingers. The smell of the permanent marker was sharp in my nose, my fingers trembling just a little bit.

I held the visor with one hand to stabilize it, then wrote my name with the other, turning A+K FUCK into A+K FUCK DAKOTA.

My cheeks were warm as I sat back down, dozens of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. The strokes of my name were significantly darker than what’d come before me, only highlighting just how deep Mason and Micah’s history was. It didn’t make me sad. They never made me feel like an intruder into their world together.

“It’s perfect, baby girl,” Micah reassured me, his palm gliding up and down my denim-clad thigh.

“Thank you.” I smiled, staring at the writing on the visor.

Mason held the side of my face, turning me to kiss him, his fingers gently woven through my hair. His lips were soft at first, but then he bit me hard enough that I gasped, and my smile only widened. Tough love.

When we pulled into Micah’s garage, Mason disappeared upstairs while Micah stayed in the kitchen to prepare dinner. I went up to change into my pajamas—and noticed Mason was filling the bathtub. I slipped into the bathroom, smiling as he lowered himself into the water.