by Liza James
I stand at the open doorway, trying to sort through the sequence of the day, everything that was said, everything that happened. I watch as my sister and Camden drive away, supposedly to her new boyfriend while I’m left behind with more questions than answers. Stella was the one who was supposed to have questions, but instead it feels like she was reassured, like it solidified whatever she was already thinking.
Suddenly, a sharp pain lances through my palm, like my skin is splitting and tearing along the flesh and I cry out. I lift my hand, expecting to find a bloody mess but see nothing except healthy, clean skin. Confused at the fact that I still feel the sharp pain, I turn and race through house, searching for Elijah. I quickly realize that it has to be him. Somewhere, he’s hurt, and I need to find him.
I run through the kitchen and see that he’s not there. He wasn’t in the living room and I actually don’t know where his room is. Well, I know it’s below, on the bottom level but I’ve never seen it.
I look outside and notice he’s still out in the yard where we were training, holding his hand as he looks it over. I race out the doors of his kitchen and across the patio, down the stairs and into the lawn until I get close to him. I launch forward, attempting to pull his hand into my own when he steps backwards, his eyes hard with resentment.
“No,” he spits out.
“Why not?” I shout, the anxiety and frustration of today eating away at my patience.
“Because I don’t need you.” His tone is disinterested, bored at my question.
“What the hell is wrong with all of you today?” I shout, throwing my hands up in the air. Elijah’s eyes meet my own and I watch as that inky storm begins wading through him. “Actually, you know what? I don’t give a shit what’s wrong. You’re going to teach me. Teach me how to heal you with the bond,” I demand and step closer to him, eliminating the distance between us.
He’s silent, watching me with anger and desire warring in his eyes. “No,” he says again. But instead of stepping away, he moves closer. I feel his heat slowly surrounding me, snaking around my body and drawing me towards him.
I glance up to his hand and see the dark blood slide down his forearm. It’s a mess, and as much as he may not want to admit it, he needs me. “How did you even do that?” I ask, searching the ground for something sharp when my eyes land on a shattered beer bottle. The pieces in my mind quickly fit together. I can see the way Elijah probably smashed the bottle and then cut himself open trying to clean it up. When I look back at him, the answer is clear in his face and I know I’m right.
“Should I ask Camden to teach me?” I say quietly, inching towards that boundary I know will affect him. He growls in response, his lip curling back over his teeth as he leans towards me.
“He’ll never be able to teach you what I can. He could never show you what I can,” he bites out, his breath lingering along my skin as his lips come closer to mine.
“Then show me. Teach me, Elijah,” I respond, lifting my hand and moving to take his injured one in my own.
“Wait,” he says, stopping my movements as he slides his other hand into his back pocket and pulls out a small switchblade. “Take this and cut yourself open.”
My eyes shoot up to him in hesitance and a ruthless smile spreads across his soft lips. “You asked for it, little Demon.” His voice is tainted with a toxic pleasure that both scares and arouses me. I want the challenge, and I’m turned on by the fact that he likes it even more.
I slowly lift my own hand, taking the knife and slicing it through the flesh of my palm. I make a deep enough cut that blood easily flows out and I hiss at the sting of the pain. My heart is racing, hammering against my chest in both excitement and tentative fear over what we’re doing. The connection we’re about to make.
“When you do this, it’s best if you bleed in the same place. Like now, palm and palm. It’s not always feasible, but when you can, the healing process is quicker.” He lowers his hand so that I can see where he’s cut. His skin is flayed and pulled apart in two thick jagged lines running from the middle of one finger and down to the base of his wrist. Exactly where I felt the pain in my own hand.
I’m quiet, awaiting further instruction when he takes a deep sigh and continues, “Now place your hand on mine, blood to blood.” I do as he says, laying my palm against his as I feel the warmth of our blood burn between us. At first, I’m surprised by the shock of it and jerk my hand away, looking up to him for confirmation that this is right. He nods, his muscles tense and his jaw hard as I return my hand to his.
He wraps his thick fingers around my small wrist, and I follow suit, locking our hands together in what I realize is the first time we’ve ever intentionally touched, skin to skin. In an instant, I watch as my blood turns black against our flesh and mixes beautifully with his deeper red. But worry courses through me as I observe, unsure if this is how it’s supposed to happen.
“It’s okay. It’s black because of the Demon in you,” he says, his voice turning just the slightest bit softer. My eyes are trained on where our hands are joined but his eyes stay concentrated on me. I can feel his gaze burning into me from above. “Focus on our blood, on the feeling of our bond. You know what it is, seek out that connection and draw from it.”
I do as he says and in an instant, everything starts changing. Suddenly, I feel the actual merging of our blood as it comes together. I feel the way his body pulls strength from mine, from every cell in my being, to heal him and I immediately become addicted to the pleasure of it.
“When you bonded me,” I start, my voice shakes with the heated feelings erupting inside of me. “Tell me what you said.”
“Why?” he asks, a slight flicker of annoyance laces his voice as we propel through this new connection.
“Because I need to hear you say the words. I want to know what was so powerful, so influential that it created this between us.” Ever so slowly, the bond in our blood continues pushing through my veins. It stretches through my body, lingering in places before infecting the next.
Elijah sighs in frustration before he speaks the words. His voice drops into a dark, throaty sound that I actually feel vibrate through my blood.
“Ol, Elijah, seraphim Angel c arcadia, allar ol cnila de yours g sibsi.
ol darbs de a etharzi c ge congamphlgh ca el.”
It’s impossible, I simply can’t restrain the moan that slips from my lips as he speaks in a language that strangely feels so intimate. “What does it mean?” I ask, my voice falls out in breathless intervals.
“I, Elijah, Seraphim Angel of Arcadia, bind my blood to yours in covenant.
I submit to the harmony of our souls as one.” This time, his voice his harder, stronger as it courses through the air around and us and directly links to the blood bond between us. My heart rate immediately increases, hammering against my chest as my blood suddenly experiences an electrical wave that pulses through me in thick, needy throbs.
I suck in a sharp breath and Elijah’s other hand darts out. He snatches my wrist in his as he flips my palm upwards and joins our bodies at two places. His fingers circle around me while his thumb begins sliding back and forth across my sensitive skin, adding another sensation to the chaos that’s overtaking my body.
It’s compelling and potent, the words he spoke when he bonded me and the same words he says now feel as if he’s initiating it all over again. I close my eyes, succumbing to it. Our bodies begin harmonizing together, seeking each other out. My icy frost to his blazing fire. They mingle and unify in a perfect alliance, drawing out each other’s strengths and supporting the weaknesses.
My skin begins lighting up like a forest on fire, my blood continues to heat and desire pools in my lower stomach. I need to be closer, to feel his hard body against my softer one.
So, I give in. I step toward him and bring us flush together without opening my eyes. My chest rises and falls with each labored breath, my tight nipples graze against his chest in a way that elicits an uncontrollable whimpe
r from my lips.
“Luna,” his voice is rough, and I discern the pain warring through our bond. I feel his desire as it overtakes me. His fingers trail up from my wrist, slowly sliding against my soft body and up towards my elbow. They work over my sweet skin, burning his touch into my flesh like a brand.
Claiming me, marking me.
“Is this…” but he knows what I’m asking. If this is normal for people who are bonded. Because this can’t be, it feels like too much, even for what I imagine a blood bond could create.
“No,” he says as his lips brush the shell of my ear. “It’s not normal.”
I open my eyes and look to his injured hand as surprise washes through me. He’s completely healed. Our skin is clean of blood and wounds, both our bodies having pulled the strength from each other to fix us. I look up to his bright eyes as they watch me with interest. His rough fingers trail up to my shoulder and across my exposed collarbone. His touch is a blazing fire warming me up where I’ve frozen over, working his way into the parts of me that I never intended anyone to enter. My eyes fall to his lips as his heated breath brushes my skin. My lips part instinctively for him and I crave them on my own more than anything.
“Ask for it, mo dheamhan. And I will give it to you. Right now, I can’t deny you anything.” His dark, husky voice drags across my ears, infecting me with lust and arousal that coats my inner thighs. I’m soaked, fucking disastrously wet and needy for him.
“No. I want you to want it too,” I say, begging him to give it to me. I want everything from him, I want him to take it from me without having to ask for it.
“If you put as much effort into reading our bond right now than you do into trying to piss me off, you’d already know how much I want it,” he whispers as his hand grips the back of my neck and tightly pulls me toward him.
“Then take it, Elijah. Take what you want from me.” I reach forward and slide my hand under the hem of his shirt, craving to feel more of his skin in any way that I can. A low snarl rips from his mouth at my words and he brings me closer to his face, our lips brushing against each other as he speaks. “Be careful what you ask for, mo dheamhan, because I’ll take everything. And I won’t be gentle about it.”
Instantly his lips come crashing to mine, devouring me with every ounce of strength he has. But at the contact, something else wakes up inside of me and I give it back to him just as hard. Our bodies and blood are feeding from each other, pushing and pulling with an inconceivable wave of power as we fight to find our balance.
My mouth opens for his, inviting him in and he pushes forward without hesitation. His large hand grips my thighs as he lifts me and throws us both to ground, him landing on top as he rolls his hips into my own. His cock is hard, thick, and long as I feel him against my wet pussy, grinding into me as I open myself wider for him.
His teeth snatch my lower lip in a bite as he pulls and sucks it into his mouth. My head falls to the ground on a moan as I reach down to rip his shirt up and over his head. He lets me, sitting up just briefly as he reaches behind himself to pull it the rest of the way off. My eyes glaze over at the sight of him. His pierced nipples and dark tattoos, a mix of Angels and Demons warring across his muscular chest. His abs are covered as well, but I see every line and dip of his muscles, letting my gaze fall lower to the unmistakable V that leads under the black band of his briefs. But it’s not enough, I need more of us together, more of our flesh crashing and uniting as one.
“Elijah, I need—” I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t know exactly what I’m craving for other than having him deep inside of me. But it’s not just that, I need more of this connection that tethers us together.
“I know what you need, Luna,” he says as he grasps the bottom of my own shirt in his hand and tears it over my head in one quick motion. He immediately reaches for my bra, hastily unclasping it and pulling it off as well. “I’m the only fucking one who knows what you need.”
I moan as his lips fall to my right nipple, it’s hard and aching for him as well. He pulls it into his mouth on a rough suck, but his tongue circles and licks until his teeth graze the tip before biting.
“Fuck, holy shit,” I breathe out, harsh and ragged as more of our skin comes together. His head comes up as his lips claim my mouth again, his tongue demanding entrance and taking everything I offer him.
It’s this, the fact that we’re coming together even more that does me in. Both of us baring our flesh that unravels me. Our bodies find the addiction we’ve been searching for in each other. “Tell me what it feels like to you,” I ask, my voice thick with desire. I need to know it’s the same for him.
“You’re cold,” he says harshly, and immediately worry crashes through my mind. I’m blazing with heat for him. “But I’m too hot. I’m always too hot. It’s an achy heat that consumes me while I search for anything to cool me down.” His lips pull from my mouth and drop to my ear as he sucks my lobe between his teeth. His movements slow down entirely while his hand comes up to grip the base of my throat. His mouth works deliciously over my ear.
“But it’s different for you, isn’t it? You’re too cold. You need my heat to keep you warm. Without it, you’re freezing.” His voice is a whisper, demanding my submission with every word he speaks. “Tell me I’m right.”
“You’re right,” I say and the grip he holds on my throat tightens in a dominantly gentle way. I roll my hips up to meet him as his other hand moves between us. His thumb grazes across my nipple, sore from his previous assault. He laughs against my skin and lust rushes through me, wave after crashing wave in need of him.
“I’ve imagined having you every single night since I met you,” he whispers, his lips moving down the column of my neck while he holds me still by my throat. “I’ve imagined taking your sweet pussy as mine. Licking and tasting you until you’re screaming my name.”
His words work through me, drawing moans and whimpers from my lips as if he was actually doing what he was saying. “But first I’ll spread your legs wide open, little Demon, and watch you touch yourself before taking you myself.”
“Fuck, Elijah. I’m going to come,” I say, high on the sensual connection I’m pulling from the bond. Just his voice and his words have an orgasm twisting inside of me.
I’ve never felt anything like this before. Our bodies work together and worship each other as if we were created specifically for the other. There’s a deeper tie here, a powerful substance that serves us more than the blood bond ever could. I feel it working its way up, from our very souls while it gets ready to spill out of us.
“Not yet, Luna. You’ll come when I tell you to,” his hand leaves my throat and moves to my breasts as he takes my other nipple deep into his mouth. I arch my back, begging for more of his filthy words and dangerous touch.
One hand rolls my sensitive tip between his fingertips, pinching and pulling in a mix of pain and pleasure. His tongue traces circles around my other nipple, teasing me, tasting me until I’m writhing below him in achy need.
“Please,” I say and immediately his teeth graze and nip, biting and then soothing in response to my request. His heavy body moves over mine, our hips in sync as he dry fucks me into the ground. He’s hard and rough, devouring me in the exact way I want him to. It’s like he already knows me, like we’ve already been here before even though we’ve never touched.
He speaks filthy words that twist up my insides. His teeth pull at my skin in every way I could want from him. His hands move across my body in deprived and painful grips that leave me whimpering in untainted pleasure. Every single thing he does has me seeking more but also leaving me the most satisfied I’ve ever been.
One of his hands dips lower as he slides it between my legs, feeling my pussy through the thin material of my pants. “Fuck, you’re so wet, Luna. So fucking sweet,” his mouth moves up to my jaw as he bites and nips down my throat. Gripping the waistband of my pants, he yanks them down enough to work his hand up against my lace panties. He drags a fin
ger through my slit, feeling me through the delicate fabric as I try to grind against his hand.
“That first night you were alone. I could feel you getting off, feel you coming while you touched yourself,” he whispers. “Tell me, were you thinking of me when you came?”
“Yes,” I say, reminded of the fact that he knew. He groans into my neck as he pulls my panties aside, sliding a finger inside of me as I cry out. God, even his fingers are thick and long, filling me as I arch my back off the ground.
“Christ, you’re tight. Cool even where I thought you’d be warm. You were made for me, Luna. Only for me,” he pulls his finger from inside me and slides it up, taking my wetness and bringing it up to my clit in tight, destructive circles.
I can’t think. I can’t focus. All I can feel is the chaotic integration of our souls as they crash and connect with each other, begging and seeking, giving and fulfilling everything they crave from the other.
“I need to come, Elijah,” I moan as I open my eyes and look between us, watching his tattooed fingers play with my bare pussy. I can see how wet I am from here and I watch as he pulls his finger out of me and lifts it to my mouth. He trails it against my lower lip, coating my flesh with my own arousal until I open up for him and take him inside of me.
“Taste yourself on my skin, feel your blood in my body until you know you only belong to me, Luna. Mo dheaman beag, and I will let you come.” His voice is a command and my body’s only choice is to listen and submit to his dominance. I run my tongue up the length of his fingers, tasting my wetness on him and pulling it into my own mouth. I moan, writhing and losing myself to the feeling of possessiveness he’s engulfing me in. But also, to the claiming I put on him by having myself on his skin, putting my own blood into his body. It runs both ways. Elijah may be a distant prick, but he’s mine and no one can claim him the way I can.
I sit up slightly, bracing myself on one arm while I slide the other around his neck, gripping the base of his head while my fingers tangle in the longer strands of his hair. I take his mouth with my own, sucking his tongue into me as our teeth clash and we consume each other. “Then you are mine as well, Elijah. My Fallen Angel, my addiction. My fucking obsession,” I tug his hair harshly as he groans into my mouth and I brutally bite his lower lip. One hand grips my waist as his fingers dig into my flesh and I fall back to the ground, arching my body in offering to him.
