Page 66 of Hellebore

The moment our lips meet, something ancient and feral tears loose inside my chest.

Her mouth is soft, warmer than I ever imagined. I crush my lips to hers with ten years of starvation behind the kiss, deep, desperate, devouring. I taste myself on her tongue, salt and obsession mixed with the faint sweetness of chocolate cake, and the combination makes my mind white out for a second. A groan rips from my throat into her mouth. I kiss her like a man who has already died once and refuses to return to that emptiness.

I want to ruin her.

I want to lay her down on this cold stone floor and bury myself so deep inside her that she forgets every day she ever lived without me. I want to mark every inch of her body until even her soul carries my name. The need is so violent it shakes my hands, but I force myself to keep the kiss just this, only this.

My other hand fists at my side, nails cutting into my palm so the pain can anchor me. If I touch her with both hands, if I pull her against me, I won’t stop. I’ll take everything. Right here. Right now. In this fucking cell like an animal.

I deepen the kiss instead, tilting her head back, licking into her mouth with slow, possessive strokes. Claiming. Worshipping. Punishing. Her soft whimper vibrates against my tongue and nearly undoes me completely.

Ten years.

I pull back just enough to rest my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling in hot, ragged clouds in the freezing air. My hand is still bruising her chin. I can’t let go.

“You have no idea,” I admit, against her wet lips, voice hoarse and shaking. “What you’ve done to me. Every night I watched you. Every night I imagined this. And now you’re here… dripping with me… and I still can’t have you the way I need to.”

My thumb traces her swollen bottom lip, smearing more of my cum.

I want to kiss her again. I want to never stop. I want to consume her until there’s nothing left of either of us.

Instead, I press one last slow, reverent kiss to her mouth, softer this time, almost tender, before forcing myself to pull away.

The distance feels like violence, but I will not take her here. Not like this.

“Drystan… don’t leave me here,” she murmurs. Her eyes are wide, sad, and scared, still glistening with unshed tears.

“I still don’t trust you, Briar.” My voice is calm, certain. I grab the cart and wheel it toward the door. She belongs to me. She has belonged to me for ten years. There is nowhere for her to run. This estate is hers now, even if she doesn’t understand it yet. Hellebore will keep her. I will keep her.

The moment I turn my back, she lunges.

I feel the knife before I see it, cold steel slicing across the side of my neck. A warm drop of blood slides down my skin. She’s breathing hard, still shirtless, my cum still glistening on her breasts and chin, nipples tight from the cold. The sight of her like this, wild, dangerous, marked by me, sends a dark thrill through my veins.

“I’m not staying here—” she yells, her voice cracking at the end. “I don’t know who you really are, or what this fucked thing is. But I’m leaving!”

She presses the blade harder, picks her hoodie up with her other hand. I follow the movement, letting her think she has control. My little shadow has teeth after all.

“Briar,” I warn. “You will never leave Hellebore.”

She laughs, a sharp, broken sound, then swings the knife wildly near my chest. The moment I shift back, she darts through the door and slams it shut. The lock clicks into place with a final, metallic ring.

I stand still for a moment, touching the shallow cut on my neck, a small smile tugging at my lips. She is my darkness. Unhinged. Lethal. Beautiful. I glance at the empty bed and shake my head. “I was going to let you out tomorrow,” I confess to the silent cell. “Now you will stay here. In chains.”

I crack my neck, pull the spare key from my sweatpants, and unlock the door. She really thought I would walk in here without a way out? She still has so much to learn about me.

The rain has stopped. The estate is quiet as I walk up the stone stairs, leaving the cell door open behind me for when I bring her back. She won’t get far.

Then the alarm on my phone pings, the camera at the back of the estate.

I freeze.

Fuck. She got out.

Real panic surges through me, clawing up my throat. My heart slams against my ribs as I bolt through the living room, snatching the knife from the table. I run outside into the damp, freezing night. The air is heavy with the scent of wet earth and pine, the rain now reduced to a cold mist that clings to my skin.

She found the weak spot, a small hole in the fence at the back of the estate. That fucking menace.

She has no idea where she is. No idea what dangers prowl these woods at night. The isolation that once felt like protection now feels like a threat. Ten years of watching over her, six years of surviving prison just to have her, and now she’s out there alone, running from the only place she’s truly safe.