by Katie May
“I’m so close.”
“Not yet,” he grits out as his fingers move to rub at my clit. “Milk my cock, baby girl. Fuck, just like that.”
He begins to suckle on my nipple again as he applies more friction to my clit. I can feel myself unraveling, nearing the finish line…
“Come,” he demands, and I do.
I fucking detonate.
My pussy clamps down on his cock like a vise.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he curses as his cock swells and explodes inside of me. I take a moment to appreciate his orgasm face—flushed cheeks, closed eyes, parted lips with his tongue slightly out. Elias is so fucking hot that I feel myself getting wet again. “Fucking hell. I love you, woman,” he says as I collapse on top of him, his cock still inside of me.
I love you.
He said those words to me. Did he mean them? Were they just a product of a mind-blowing orgasm?
Did I want to say them back?
What does this mean for me and the other Devils?
And why am I even thinking about them now?
I can feel his cock growing hard inside of me again, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Already?” I joke, pushing on his chest to stare down at him. He bites at my breast with a teasing grin.
“What can I say? You make me insatiable.” He rolls us over until I’m on the bottom, the hard planes of his body flush against mine. “Round two? And three? And four? And five? I did promise you that I’ll get you to come.”
“But we never gave that a specific number,” I jest breathily as he begins to move inside of me. His smirk is pure sin.
“Who says orgasms need a number?”
The answer—they don’t. They really, really don’t.
Chapter 36
After a few more rounds with Elias, I finally wear him out enough to sneak into the bathroom and dial Nana.
“Peony!” she exclaims as soon as she answers. “Thank God. I’ve been so—”
“I’m still pissed at you,” I warn her, pressing my back against the bathroom door and staring up at the ceiling. Water stains are beginning to discolor the white paint, and the fan is in desperate need of a dusting. “But there’s something I need to tell you.”
Quickly, I recap what transpired on my way home from school. I describe each of the Bloods in detail before assuring her I’m alive and well. Still, that doesn’t stop her from panicking, her voice becoming more and more frazzled with each new snippet of information.
“You need to come home,” she declares adamantly, her breathing shallow. “Peony—”
“I’m fine,” I assure her for what feels like the millionth time. I twist my body, so my forehead now presses against the wooden door. It’s almost as if I can see Elias on the other side, see his naked body still sprawled across the bed. The thought sends a smile to my face before I can curb it. “I’m with a…friend.”
Nana promises me that she’ll talk to the triplets before reluctantly hanging up. Do I like being mad at the one relative who has always been there for me? Not at all. But she lied to me. Maybe the triplets aren’t psycho murderers or evil, blood-crazed warlocks, but they’re still Bloods. They still drank the blood of defenseless witches on an altar, whether said witches were willing or not.
Shoving those thoughts aside, I tiptoe back into the room and crawl into Elias’s monster bed. His arm comes up to wrap around me, pulling me snuggly against his chest. I’m not even sure he’s awake. It seems to be pure instinct driving him, even when he nuzzles my hair and plants a tender kiss to the back of my neck.
For the first time in forever, I allow myself to smile and relax.
I allow myself to believe that everything will be okay.
I should’ve known that my happy ending would turn out like this. Fairy tales have it wrong. There aren’t magical wands you can wave to make all of your problems dissipate like paper in a fire. No handsome princes wait around, waiting to save you on large, white horses.
There are only demons and more demons. Darkness and more darkness. Pain and more pain.
When I wake up the next morning, I feel sated and content. I stretch my taut muscles, feeling very much like a lazy house cat, and reach for Elias beside me. My hand touches nothing but sheets, still warm, and I drowsily pull my eyelids open.
“El?” I query, the nickname falling from my tongue before I can think better of it. And…it sounds right. Natural. As if I was always meant to call him that. “Elias?”
“What is this?” Elias’s voice is clipped, darker than I ever remember hearing it. I twist my head to see him standing at the end of my bed, still naked from our tryst between the sheets. His hair is tousled, giving him that just fucked look I find so irresistible in men, but his purple-brown eyes are hard and jaded. I don’t even have the time to trail my eyes over his naked body appreciatively.
My focus is reserved for the items in his hands.
“Where did you get those?” I ask, sitting upright in bed and pulling the sheets up to my neck. It doesn’t feel right to have this conversation while I’m naked and vulnerable.
“What is this?” he repeats as he holds up one of the voodoo dolls, a strand of his hair wrapped around its throat. “And this?” In his other hand, he waves around one of my old spell books, the binding practically nonexistent as a few yellowing pages flutter to the ground.
“Were you going through my backpack?” I demand, aghast.
“I wasn’t going through your fucking backpack! I went downstairs to grab it for you,” he snaps, nodding towards something on the ground. I crawl forward on the bed, still using the blanket for covering, and see my bag lying on its side, a massive hole near the bottom. It must’ve been ripped during the fight yesterday, and when Elias grabbed it this morning, it broke open even further.
Numerous photos of the guys surround my bag. The other three voodoo dolls. A few loose spells. My journal.
Everything.
“What the fuck is this, Peony?” He almost vibrates in place, his eyes flicking wildly between me and the strange, unexplainable items. “Are you in a cult or something? Are you, like, a Satan worshipper?”
Normally, his conclusions would’ve brought a timid smile to my lips.
But there’s nothing remotely funny about today.
“No,” I confess. I scour his face to see how close he is to running, to leaving me. And I decide, right then and there, to tell him the truth, even if he thinks I’m insane. Lucas didn’t, but then again, I believe that boy has a few screws loose. My hands shake with adrenaline, my stomach a tumultuous mixture of dread and nerves. What will Elias think? Will he run? Will he even believe me? “I’m a witch.”
“A witch?” He releases a dry, humorless laugh, one laced with disbelief. “Peony, don’t joke with me right now.”
“I’m not joking!” I scramble to my feet, quickly tucking the sheet in at my breasts so it stays up. It cascades around my feet, nearly tripping me, but I hurry towards Elias regardless. “Elias, listen to me. There are things that you don’t know—”
“So you’re, what? Trying to fucking spell me?” He holds up the voodoo doll once more, betrayal and pain emanating from his eyes. “Kill me?”
“Elias, no!”
“Or maybe you’re just fucking crazy. Or maybe I’m crazy for believing you.” He scrubs a hand through his hair. “Fuck!”
“Elias—”
“What am I supposed to say, Peony? What the fuck am I supposed to say to all this? How am I supposed to believe any of this?”
Trembling from head to toe, I slowly lift my hand, allowing a blistering ball of flames to appear in the center of my palm. He jerks back as if I physically slapped him, throwing up his hands to protect himself, as if I’m going to chuck the fire ball into his face like some sort of video game heroine. He shakes his head from side to side in denial.
“No…”
“Elias, please—”
“What is this? Were you just using me? Was any of this real?
Do you even have feelings for me?” He all but shoves the doll into my chest, his voice nearing a scream. His tone is acerbic, almost bitter. “If it was all true, then what the fuck is this? I said I loved you. I know…I know I deserve everything you planned to do to me, especially after what I did to you. But…I mean…I thought…” He stares intently at the doll once more, a broken expression marring his handsome face. “What is this?”
“It’s a mistake,” I whisper, and I see that now. My need for revenge…
It makes me no better than them.
I don’t know if I can be forgiven.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow. I feel like one of those delicate, hand-sewn sweaters that is being eaten at by a moth. The hole gradually becomes larger and larger before it unravels completely, leaving nothing but frayed yarn.
“I think…” Another dry spurt of laughter escapes him. “I think you should leave.”
“Elias!” I cry, reaching for him, but he stealthily sidesteps my hand and storms into the bathroom. The door rattles as he slams it shut, and I hear the distinct sound of a lock clicking. A moment later, the shower turns on.
No. No. No. No.
How could everything turn so wrong so fast? I came to this town with one goal in mind and one goal only—get my revenge on the Devils. But life has a funny way of derailing you completely. I don’t know if I’ll ever get on track again, nor if I want to.
What I want is Elias. Cassian. Lucas. Karsyn.
It’s a kick to the gut to know that Elias is currently washing away the evidence of our lovemaking. Am I really that disgusting to him now? Will he ever forgive me? Does he even believe me?
I feel weak, my legs trembling like mad, but I can’t find the strength to leave this room. I want to melt into the floorboards until Elias is forced to acknowledge me. Then, we’ll talk this out. I’ll explain to him my reasoning, and hopefully, he can learn to forgive me the same way I did for him.
On shaky legs, I drop to my knees and begin to grab my stuff. Only the main pocket of my backpack was destroyed, so I shove my belongings into the smaller ones instead. I can still hear the sound of the shower running, the water pelting against the porcelain tub.
My tears feel like multiple infernos burning my eyes as I duck my head, pity and self-hatred rushing through me. My eyes automatically drift to the scars on my arms, and I wonder, not for the first time since that night, if everyone would be better off if I’d died.
A ragged breath left my lips as I brought the razor blade to my skin once more. At first, the cut was small, merely a trickle of blood, but as I relished in the pain, I found I needed more.
Way more.
I began to sob as I brought the blade to the protruding vein and dug as deep as I could go.
I just wanted the pain to end
I wanted everything to end…
Mom found me in the bathtub only a few minutes later. Enough time to take me to the ER and get me bandaged up.
But the memory of that night remains, along with my scars. It’s embedded inside my very soul; I’ll never be free of it.
I’m bleeding again, and I don’t know how to stop it.
My phone begins to ring, and I reach for it absently, expecting it to be Nana.
“Yeah?” I say, not bothering with pleasantries.
“Peony?” At first, the voice is unfamiliar, but as I claw my way out of the dark abyss I started down, shock replaces the confusion.
“Karsyn?” I ask with heady disbelief. My whole body feels uncharacteristically sluggish and heavy, as if Earth’s entire gravity is pushing down on me. “Why are you calling me? How did you get my number?”
“Can we talk?” he questions softly. “Please?”
“I…I don’t…”
“Coffee House. On Taylor. Twenty minutes. Please.”
I glance at the closed bathroom door, the shower still running, before swallowing.
“All right.”
He exhales in audible relief, almost as if he’s been holding his breath this entire time.
“I’ll see you then,” he says, hanging up before I can question him further.
Quickly, I get dressed, taking slightly longer than I need to in case Elias exits the bathroom before I leave.
He doesn’t.
I scribble a note on a piece of notebook paper and place it on his pillow. It’s two simple words, but I hope he can read the sincerity in them.
I’m sorry.
With one last glance at the bathroom, and in the direction of the man who has stolen my heart, I hurry out of his house.
Chapter 37
I enter the coffee shop before Karsyn and place an order at the counter—a large white chocolate mocha with a blueberry muffin.
He still hasn’t arrived by the time I retrieve my goodies and head towards a table near the far corner.
The coffee shop is actually crowded, nearly every table full. I spot a few business men and women bedecked in sleek suits. A couple college-aged kids. Even some students I recognize from my school.
Worry churns in my stomach as I recall his panicked voice. Did something happen? The sudden, vivid image pops in my head of the Bloods hunting him down as a lesson to me. But surely those sadistic bastards don’t know how much he means to—
He means nothing to me. I try to remind myself of that as I peel at the sticker on the side of my Styrofoam cup.
The bell above the door rings just as a frazzled Karsyn enters the building. His eyes scan the crowd before he lands on me, immediately charging forward. I can’t help but note how disheveled he appears. His blond hair—still short from my spell, but just as unruly as when I first saw him—is in complete disarray. Strands stick up in all directions as if he stuck his finger in an electrical socket. Today, his hazel eyes look as green as blades of grass, his jawline just as sharp. His shirt is untucked on one side, and there’s a large brown stain on the thigh of his jeans.
“You can get a drink if you want,” I say when he approaches the table, nodding towards the barista. He ignores my suggestion, choosing instead to sit opposite of me at the table. And then, he just stares. I try not to squirm, but there’s something so incredibly intense about Karsyn Alder that I can’t help it.
“We need to talk,” he settles on at last.
“So talk.” I busy my hands by taking another drink of my coffee. My hands tremble so bad that the liquid sloshes over the edge. Cursing, I grab a napkin out of the dispenser and dab at the spill.
Karsyn continues to stare without speaking, his hazel eyes demanding something of me that I can’t put into words. When the silence grows unnerving, I stand. I’m not just going to sit here like some circus, side-show freak for him to gawk at.
“Wait.” It’s one word, but it freezes me in place.
“You called me here to talk, Karsyn. So talk,” I say, and he nods, lips straightened in a grim line. When he gestures for me to reclaim my seat, I do so somewhat reluctantly.
Immediately, he begins to pull at his blond hair again, his agitation making his movements jerky.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” he confesses, voice raspy as if he hasn’t used it in a while. He nibbles on his lower lip, seemingly deep in thought. “I’m stupid.”
His candid statement leaves me reeling.
“What?”
“I mean, I’m not stupid, stupid. But I’m never going to be some fucking straight A student like Lucas,” he continues, staring at his hands as if they hold all of the secrets in the universe. There’s a tiny golden freckle on the back of his left hand, and a teeny, tiny part of me wants to reach across the table and trace it with my finger. I quell that ridiculous urge by balling my hands into tight fists.
“Where are you going with this, Alder?” I cock a brow at him as he swallows.
“I…I don’t know.” He scrubs at his jawline in irritation. “No, that’s not true. I do know. I’m never going to be some damn rocket scientist or anything like that. I’m good at only a few things, apparent
ly. Football and being a complete jackass.”
“I still don’t know where you’re going with this,” I say lightly, running the pad of my thumb across the top of my coffee cup. Karsyn doesn’t answer, his head lowered as he glares daggers into the white tabletop. I take advantage of the moment of silence to look around the room for the first time since I entered.
Not a lot has changed. It still has a makeshift assortment of archaic furniture, distressed wooden tables painted white, and long, floral couches against each wall. A tiny bookshelf sits in the far corner with a healthy collection of dust on each novel. The only item even moderately new is the register—a touch-screen computer. Even the cappuccino machine is the same as it was five years ago.
“Do you remember,” I begin, purposely keeping my voice light and airy, “seventh grade?”
“I remember a fuck ton of things from seventh grade,” Karsyn retorts. “You have to be more specific.”
“You locked me in that cupboard right over there.” I point with my chin towards a closet-sized room behind the counter. I remember the fear I felt being trapped in the dark with no escape. The worry that the cops would come and arrest me for trespassing…despite the fact that I hadn’t gone willingly. But these boys, these Devils, had money and power while I had none. Each of them lived in sprawling mansions, or so I believed, while I lived in a modest, two-bedroom apartment with my mother. I was just the town freak.
“Shut up.” I whip around to face him, gaping at Karsyn’s quiet, yet vehement, reply.
“Excuse me?”
“I said shut up.” He finally lifts his head, and I’m shocked to see tears in his eyes. “Just…just stop.”
“Stop what?”
I feel as if we’re at a turning point, as if we’re at a crossroads and each direction beckons us forward. We can choose to remain together, no matter which road we take, or we can separate. Time stands still as my amber eyes lock with his. This close, I can see golden flecks surrounding his pupils, almost like errant fireworks have been set off.
