by Sara Page
Snap.
Vrillum’s head twists so far around it pops right off.
“Mine,” a dark voice hisses.
Chapter Sixteen
Is that me screaming?
Vrillum’s head comes off and his neck erupts in a geyser of blood. I’m sprayed in the face as his body falls down to the floor.
I’m not screaming, I’m sputtering. Spitting the taste out of my mouth. Wiping the back of my hand across my eyes. The blood is hot and… sticky. Yuck. There’s even some of it in my nose.
Ameia.
I think there’s whispering but it’s hard to hear over the screaming. I take a step back, away from Vrillum’s body as the blood soaks into the carpet, pooling and spreading for my toes. Not that I’m not already drenched. Who knew there would be so much… Who knew the body contained so much… It’s everywhere. Some must have hit the ceiling. I can feel the spray, the sprinkle of red rain as it lightly mists me.
I need to get the fuck out of here.
Come.
“What?” I ask. Am I hearing things?
I look up but I don’t see anyone else and then I look back down at Vrillum’s headless body. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have a head but it’s just not registering yet that he’s good and dead. Shouldn’t this bother me? Why do I feel so numb to it all?
My head no longer hurts.
The screaming goes on and on. I turn, searching for the source. It’s the Bishop. His mouth is open so far it looks as if his jaw has dislocated. I can even see his tonsils. And he just keeps on screaming and screaming, like he’s stuck in a loop.
Ameia.
There it is. But where?
“Will you shut up!” I yell at the Bishop but he doesn’t stop. You’d think the man would need to stop to breathe but he seems to have an endless supply of air.
I feel a tug. Something is calling to me…
Come to me.
I step around Vrillum’s body, following the pull of an invisible cord.
Come to me, Ameia.
“Where are you?” I ask and search. I seem to be walking for the corner. The darkest part of the room.
Mine.
That word makes me falter, makes me hesitate, but as I try to pull back I feel the pull even more. It’s harder. Sharper.
Come here, you.
The shadows, they’re reaching for me.
No, something cries inside of me. Don’t do this. Run.
But the dark fingers, they’ve captured me…sinking their claws into my blood-soaked arms.
Come with me, Ameia.
I shake my head but I can’t escape. There’s no going back.
I’ve already gone too far.
I’ve got you.
* * *
Darkness swallows me, becomes me, until I am no more.
I have no body, I have no bearing. I am just a thought, floating….somewhere.
And then I begin to feel.
“My light, release me from the void.”
Lips caress my neck. I have a neck now. And they’re so soft, so warm, the lips, I didn’t even realize I was cold.
“Do you like that?”
Yes, yes, I like it. It feels so good. Don’t stop. I’m so cold.
I shiver with goosebumps.
“I will warm you up.”
The lips travel down, sweeping into the hollow of my throat. Brushing across my collarbones. They linger as they touch my breasts, lightly kissing the tops where they swell.
“I have waited so long for this.”
I have the sudden urge to reach out, to grab onto the voice speaking to me. To capture the person, to know they are real.
Where are you? I want to touch you.
“I have waited so long for you.”
Hands cover my breasts. Big, rough, strong hands grip me. They enclose me. They squeeze me.
“Fuck, you feel so good.”
The hands squeeze and knead. My nipples harden into tight little peaks. I arch my back, on the verge of a moan.
“You feel as if you were made for me. You were made for me, weren’t you?”
Yes.
“You were made for me to kiss you.”
One hand stops squeezing me, replaced instead by what feels like a mouth. The mouth is hot and wet, and it sucks in my nipple.
Yes. Don’t stop.
Now I know I’m moaning as everything inside me feels centered on that spot. It feels, as that mouth sucks on me, pulling on my hard nipple, that something else inside me is unraveling. I’m becoming undone.
“You were made for me to taste you.”
The hungry mouth nips my nipple, teeth pinching painfully, and then it kisses down, tasting the length of my stomach.
The tip of their tongue dips into my belly button. I feel my back arching and my hips lifting into the air.
“You’re so damn beautiful when you let go.”
Fingers dig into my hips. The mouth kisses lower and lower. I feel warmth blowing across my mons.
I reach out. Searching, seeking, I’m still blind. Please, I want to touch you. I need something to hold on to.
“Here.”
The kissing stops. I can feel the fingers digging into my hips letting go. A grip encircles my wrists. My arms are lifted into the air and then I feel my palms landing on something warm, something solid. I feel velvety soft skin and the vibrations of a purr. It’s Beast, again he’s come to my rescue.
“Better?”
Yes, thank you.
“Now lay back and be a good girl.”
My hands stroke across a chest and then the chest is moving down and I find my fingers catching, becoming tangled in soft hair.
“Now, where was I?”
Hands grab my hips and lips meet my mons. There’s a growl and I feel the kisses stamped downward before veering off for my thigh.
I groan in disappointment, the lips aren’t kissing where I wanted. They take their sweet time teasing me, so close but just not there. The lips part and I feel the wet tip of a tongue, swirling and stroking as if it’s drawing patterns. The tongue licks up and up. I spread my legs while holding my breath and expecting more.
There’s a chuckle and I just know I’m going to be denied. He’s playing with me. Torturing me. So cruel. I start to lean back, already disappointed.
And then a tongue strokes across my folds, licking up. As it drags across my clit, my fingers tighten in the hair I’m grabbing while I expel a throaty groan.
“Gods, you taste so good. Like ambrosia.”
It feels like the tip of the tongue is swirling against my clit. The sensation is so strong, so intense, my groan fades into a whimper and I squirm. The hands gripping my hips lift me up, tightening their hold.
“Stay still.”
I try very, very hard to stay still. My clit is pulsing, my sex is clenching. What parts of my body I can feel are tense and anticipating more.
“Good girl.”
The pleased rumble makes me feel all gooey and warm.
The tongue laps at me, licking me up. I want to move. I want to buck my hips and shove his face into my sex. But I know if I move, if I don’t remain perfectly still, he’ll stop. And if he stops right now, right as I feel all my muscles tensing and my clit throbbing… pulsing, thundering in sync with the rhythm of my heart… I’ll just die. I’ll die if his tongue stops dragging along my folds, dipping between the seam. I’ll die if he stops pulling my clit into his mouth and sucking, oh so wonderfully hard.
And I swear… oh gods, is that fingers? Is he pressing his fingers inside me? I clench down on them, hard, gripping like a vice. The fingers curl, finding, stroking and working that intense spot.
“Fuck you’re tight.”
His fingers pump in and out of me. Hard, fast. My thighs lock up. Wet pressure is building inside of me. I tremble, just about ready to explode.
“Come for me, Ameia,” he commands.
And I let go. It feels as if the very core of me blasts apart.
The
darkness fades, replaced by millions of colorful, exploding lights. I can see, illuminated against the explosions, the silhouette of the man between my legs. I’m tearing and ripping at his black hair, unable to help myself. Powerless against the force rolling through my body. Powerless by all my senses awakening at once.
“Ameia,” Striker says tenderly as his fingers slow, bringing me down from my release.
“What’s going on?” I gasp. The pleasure and the sensations are fading fast as I try to wrap my mind around what’s happening. It’s Striker doing these things to me. It’s not Beast.
What have I done?
“Don’t let go,” he tells me, lifting up to kiss me on my belly. “Stay with me.”
I look off, past his head but everything I see is shimmery and dark.
“Where are we?” I ask.
Striker pauses his kissing only long enough to answer me, “On the Other Side.”
The darkness creeps back into my vision, blinding me. I gasp, reaching out, my hands finding purchase on Striker’s shoulders. “What’s going on?” I ask fearfully.
“Relax,” Striker says in a deep, soothing voice. “I’ve got you.”
“I can’t see,” I exclaim. I blink my eyes and there’s only impenetrable blackness.
But I can feel, and I feel Striker’s skin sliding against my skin as he crawls up me.
“I know, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “Your body needs time to adjust. It will be easier after we join…”
“After we join?!” I ask shrilly.
Why does that upset me so much after what we just did? Because I wasn’t thinking about it and now I am.
“Ssshhh,” Striker purrs, his face burrowing into my neck. I feel him vibrating. I feel his warmth seeping into me and it’s calming.
Now I’m relaxing against him.
“Ameia?” Striker asks and I feel him shifting over me, his knee nudging my knees as if he means to settle himself between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together.
“Yes?” I ask, my voice small and frightened. I can’t see and it’s disturbing, but it also seems to enhance everything I’m feeling. Striker’s warmth. Striker’s touch. His breath against my neck. The disturbance in the air as he sniffs my hair. I find myself enjoying the smell of him in return, I can’t believe I never noticed it before. He’s spicy in a way that’s sweet yet somehow burns.
“You accepted me.”
I nod my head. “I did,” I answer simply with no emotion behind it. I didn’t accept him out of joy, I accepted him out of fear.
I had a choice between two evils and I chose the one that freed me from my situation. The one that felt safer. I’m not sure though if I ended up choosing the evil that will turn out to be greater of the two. Yet right now, Striker certainly doesn’t feel evil. He feels warm and sweet and like... he belongs there, above me.
“You have made me complete,” Striker purrs and his lips plant a warm kiss just beneath my ear.
“I have?” I ask, my throat constricting to hear him say such. He’s treating me so tender, so softly, it’s confusing. Is this Striker above me cradling me in the dark, or is it Beast?
“Yes,” he says huskily and his lips suckle along my neck. “I have longed to do this, to hold you, to claim you, since you called to me. To be kept from you, to watch you accept Prince Drek yet deny me, it’s been driving me mad.”
“Beast is going to be mad. He’s going to be angry with me.” I say with sudden anguish. I’ve betrayed him. He’ll probably never forgive me for this. How could I accept Striker? How could I do this to him? I feel ashamed for sharing my body with Striker. I choke up, feeling ashamed that I’m enjoying the way he holds me at this moment.
“No,” Striker growls. “Prince Drek will not be angry. He will accept this. He knows this was meant to happen. When he left you in my care, it was his way of accepting it.”
“I wish I could believe that,” I whisper. Especially because it sounds too good to be true. Wouldn’t Beast have mentioned it before he left?
“Listen to me,” Striker insists, grabbing my face. His must be close, I can feel the warm pants of his breath. “You’ve done nothing wrong. This is not wrong. You were meant for me. You are mine. Can’t you feel it? Does this feel wrong to you?”
“I don’t know,” I answer. Does it feel wrong to be naked with Striker? Does it feel wrong what he just did? What I let him do? No, no it doesn’t, and that’s half the problem. It feels too damn good. Every place we touch tingles with pleasurable sensation. Even now I feel calm, at ease by the vibrations he’s emitting.
“You know, Ameia, you know,” Striker insists. “Even now, even though you’ve accepted me and it’s done, you can’t take it back. Why do you fight it?”
“I’m afraid,” I admit quietly. I’m afraid of Striker. I’ve been terrified of accepting him. How could I make room for him in my heart? I don’t want to be vulnerable to him like that.
“Why?” he asks, his voice like warm silk as his hands stroke me. Knuckles brushing my cheek, pushing back my hair.
“I’m afraid of you.”
“I’m sorry,” Striker apologizes and I feel him shifting his body over me. He’s straddling me now, his legs outside my thighs since I won’t spread my legs for him. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I will always protect you. I never want to hurt you…”
But he has. It’s not spoken but I can feel it hanging between us.
To be honest, I’ve always been afraid to trust him. But didn’t I feel that way about Beast at first?
Besides his snarkiness, has Striker done anything to give me reason not to trust him? He shot me, yes, but he claimed that was unintentional and he apologized for it. His claws dug into me when he grabbed my hips, but again he apologized and took a beating for it. Beast has hurt me and I forgave him for it. I forgave Beast for all the good things he did.
Has Striker done good things for me? Yes. He’s stood by my side throughout this, unfaltering in his desire to protect me. He gave me the truth, even if I did not like it. He gave me comfort and protection through the wormholes, and he even held my hand. In the conference room… in the chapel… He’s killed for me. Striker has killed for me. He’s put himself in harm’s way and I know, I fear, he would have died for me if it came to it.
The good certainly outweighs all the bad. Yet…
“Do you believe me?” Striker asks and he stills against me.
“Yes, but…”
“But you’re still afraid?”
“Yes,” I exhale. Even knowing he wants to protect me, he doesn’t want to hurt me…
“Why?” Striker asks, sounding frustrated. “What must I do to put you at ease?”
“I don’t know,” I say, feeling frustrated myself. If only I could see perhaps I would know better. I can’t even see him. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“This?” Striker presses. “What do you mean by this?”
“You,” I sigh. “You and Prince Drek. How do I accept you both? How is it done? I don’t think I can do it.” Am I even capable of caring for two? I fear I may not be. And still I fear Beast is going to be mad. Because I would be, I’d be mad. I’d be freaking pissed. I couldn’t share him, I couldn’t. Just the thought of another woman touching him makes my blood boil and at the same time makes me feel sick. How will he accept me being with Striker? Especially in front of him?
How did Striker stand it?
“You’ve already accepted me, Ameia,” Striker growls. “You are mine and there’s no going back. You’ve already made your decision.”
“I did,” I concede. I’ve already accepted Striker, I’ve already committed to making room for him, even if I don’t know how to do it. Yet.
“If you push me away now, if you deny me now…” Striker hisses and sucks in a deep breath. I can feel him shuddering against me and it bothers me. I don’t want him to hurt, and I certainly don’t want to be the cause of it. “Now that I’ve had a taste of you, I won’t survive it.”
<
br /> He shifts above me, I feel his knee once more nudging at my knees, urging me to open for him.
“Please, Ameia, please don’t push me away.” He implores me softly and I feel his weight sinking into me. “You are my destiny. You are my everything.”
I feel my resistance slipping away. The things he says, the way he speaks, I know he’s honest. How can I deny him?
“I cannot exist without you, Ameia.”
He comes down fully on top of me with his mouth crushing my mouth and for a moment I let go, I can’t keep myself from kissing him back.
I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m probably going to regret this, but I’ve already committed. I honor my word. I honor my pledges. If I don’t have my integrity then what do I have left?
I’ll make this work, we’ll make this work. But I’ve already jumped in blind, quite literally, and I need more time to accept this, to figure this out before we move on to the next step.
Striker pulls away and though I can’t see him, I can feel his frustration as I refuse to open my legs for him.
“So you deny me, Ameia?” he asks. “Even now?”
“No,” I say and shake my head. “I do not deny you. I stand by my word. I accepted you and know I can’t take it back. I need some time to process all of this though.”
So much has happened within the past few hours. So much chaos, confusion, and death.
“Striker, please,” I softly implore him as he remains deathly quiet. “I’m not denying you. I accept you. I need you. Will you just hold me for now?”
Striker sighs and shifts above me. “The things I am willing to do for you,” he grumbles and then his weight is gone and for one breathless, terrifying moment, I’m alone in the dark.
Then, as I reach out, searching for something, anything to help me feel like I’m not hovering in nothingness about to fall and fall and never stop falling, I feel his hands grabbing me up. Strong arms wrap around me and I’m pulled into a chest that is not only vibrating and purring but also blessedly warm.
“Thank you,” I tell him, and my own hands come up to grab onto him. Right now, in this place, he is the only thing that is real. He is the only thing keeping me connected to reality.
“You’re welcome,” he purrs and his arms squeeze me tighter.
