by C. R. Jane
I was shifting and moaning against him, pushing myself up against his hand. If he didn’t do this soon, I was going to come again. It had already been three times and he hadn’t even fucked me yet.
I gasped when he rubbed his thumb against my clit and begged again, “Please.”
He stopped touching me and pushed his other hand into my hair, tugging it pointedly and looking down at me again. “I like to watch. I wanna see your face when I take you.”
I closed my eyes, feeling exposed and all the more turned on because of it. “Okay.” He shifted, and I arched against him when I felt him against my opening, pushing forward in a slow, indulgent claiming. When the broad tip of his cock breached me, my mouth fell open with a gasp.
Goose bumps spread over my skin, the pleasure was deeper than before, more potent, and I dug my nails into his shoulders when it started to overwhelm overwhelm me. The pain only seemed to spur him on.I tried to bite my bottom lip to keep myself quiet as he rocked in and out of me, but he growled, “No, let me hear it. Let me hear all of it.”
He took me the rest of the way in one hard thrust that made me cry out from the surge of ecstasy. “That’s it, baby. Let everyone in this hell hole hear you get off on me fucking you.”
I gasped at his harsh words. He buried his face against my neck again, and then bit hard enough to leave a mark. The next time he spoke, it was in a different language, but the words were just as harsh and jagged, breathless and defiantly sexual in a way that was easy to understand, even if I couldn’t understand it. He pulled out and took me again before I could catch my breath.
Heavenly Goddess, the friction was incredible. I found myself clinging to him as he took me hard, over and over again, making the pleasure build and build until I was dragging my nails down his back and coming before either of us expected it. He rode out the storm with me, thrusting harder, extending the wild rush of ecstasy so long I was winded and sweaty when it started to wane. Alaric was still moving, and I realized he hadn’t climaxed with me. His voice was ragged as he made those low, masculine grunts of pleasure against the curve of my neck with every thrust. When he did speak, it was still in that other, mystical sounding language, whispered against my ear like the confessions of a dying man.
I could feel the tension in him, in the muscles flexing under my fingers and the way everything about him seemed coiled tight, like a snake about to strike. That seemed unfair, and I ran my hands up to his hair. I fisted it and lifted his head to claim his lips in a wild, openmouthed kiss. He pushed his tongue past my lips as he started moving faster, harder. Somehow, one of my knees had become hooked under his arm, leaving me completely open to the thrust of his hips against mine. We were sweaty and sticky, but none of it mattered as he kissed me again and then slipped a hand between our straining bodies, finding my clit, making me aware of how wet I was, forcing me to feel what a messy, sticky business sex with Alaric was, and I loved it. So much so I moaned into our next kiss and just let him have his way with me.
“I don’t think I can,” I moaned. But even as I said it, I felt it building again. I didn’t think I would be able to walk tomorrow, but I was going to come again.
“Solaris renta,” Alaric moaned in my ear. He punctuated the strange words by tugging on my hair again and finally growled something against my ear that I understood, “Now!”
I screamed when another orgasm ripped through my body, followed by another and another. They rolled together in a neverending tide and I was only faintly aware of my screams as the pleasure threatened to black me out.
What had he done to me?
He gripped my ass, holding me tightly against him as he fucked me harder, broken phrases bursting out of him as my orgasms continued to wash over me.
My orgasms continued until after he came with a loud, feral shout that echoed throughout the room. Only then did whatever he had done to me fade away. I continued to whimper as the last vestiges of pleasure coursed through my body. My voice was hoarse from screaming and Alaric was having to hold up my entire weight as I had no strength yet.
I started to notice the little things then, like the feel of his sweaty skin against mine and the fact that we were still in the bloody kitchen and I had just let this stranger fuck me against a wall.
He was leaning against me, pushing me against the wall, and his weight was almost too much. I was so tired though I could barely think to complain. Instead I hugged him tighter, completely wrapping myself around him.
As I continued to come back down to reality, what I had done and where I was began to beat through my head. Had I really just done that?
And what the hell was he that he had made me come like that again and again?
I struggled to push him away and he reluctantly allowed space between us.
“What are you?” I asked hoarsely, glaring at him and feeling somehow betrayed as I came to the stark realization now that I was in control of my body that he had used magic on me.
A smug grin curled up his face. “Do you think just any creature could do that to you, Selena?” he gloated.
The sick feeling inside of me grew larger, pushing out the orgasmic afterglow I had been feeling. I struggled to push him away even more.
“Get off me,” I growled, and he threw his head back and laughed, the sound stupidly attractive. Everything about him was attractive and I was furious at my body for betraying me over and over again when it came to this beautiful creature.
“You mean you haven’t heard the rumors about me while out on your food runs?” he asked, stepping away, unabashed about his nudity. “I would think my reputation would proceed me.”
Suddenly it hit me what he was. It should have been obvious. Incubi were similar to sirens in their ability to attract...but sirens didn’t feed on sexual energy.
“Did you just feed on me?” I gasped, horrified as I picked up my clothes and began to hurry and pull them on.
“Do you really think the slop they feed me would keep this going?” he asked, gesturing to his perfect, still naked body.
I groaned and rubbed a hand down my face, cursing myself a thousand times over. There were way too many parasites in this prison.
Taking a deep breath, I resumed glaring at him. “Get away from me and leave right now or I’ll scream,” I threatened.
He stepped closer to me again. “Done so soon? I was really thinking we should do another round.”
Fury swept through me. I opened my mouth and began to scream...quite loudly. Fun fact about sirens, we had excellent lung capacities, and anyone in the near vicinity would hear me, and hopefully come.
“What the fuck?” he growled, pushing away from me and backing up with an annoyed look on his face. “Can shut up,” he yelled as I began to scream louder. The sound was enough that it forced him to cover his ears before I burst his eardrum.
“I’m leaving,” he barked before grabbing his clothes and hastily putting on his pants before darting out of the room.
A few seconds later a pack of guards came streaming into the kitchen on alert for a threat.
But the threat was gone.
He was gone.
And my body already missed him.
Shit.
Despite my behavior, or maybe because of my behavior, I still had another food run to do before I could go back to my cell and wallow in self pity. My guard for the food run was in a pissed off mood, but I was just glad he wasn’t Keon. It probably would have been really uncomfortable to see my first lover right after getting pounded against the kitchen wall by an incubus. I’m sure all of the guards knew exactly what happened, the smell of sex was rampant in that room. The food was probably all tainted as well. I kind of felt bad for the prisoners I was about to help feed.
But only kind of.
I was taken the opposite way from my usual routes, and I breathed a sigh of relief that I wouldn’t be seeing Alaric right after what had just happened. Which just reminded me about the fact that he'd been able to escape from his cell.
<
br /> How was that even possible?
Maybe the guards could be bought after all.
The only problem with getting out of your cell was that you still couldn't get out of the prison itself. I hadn't heard of anyone ever escaping before.
Surely Alaric would have left if he knew a way out.
But if he did know a way out...I would do almost anything to get that information.
Tucking that thought process away for later, I concentrated on not tripping on the suddenly uneven floor.
We'd just walked through a large metal gate into a part of the prison that made the rest of the place seen seem like Beverly Hills. The floor was uneven, covered in rocks and upturned roots where they'd just let nature take its course. The walls were made of black rock as well and they were covered in algae. I could hear the faint drip drip of water as water leaked down from the ceiling. It was dimmer here than in other parts of the prison, and the set up honestly resembled something from a horror film. It was also quieter here, like the prisoners here were so beat down that they didn't have it in them to moan and cry like in the other sections.
There were no cots in the cells here, only a damp floor to sleep on with a hole in the corner where I assumed they did their business. The sight was heartbreaking and made me instantly rethink my stance on my circumstances here.
It could always be worse.
I shakily slid the trays through the slats of the cells. The food I'd been given to pass out looked worse than anything I'd seen. I was pretty sure there was mold on the roll of the last tray and spit in the soup on another. I felt sick just passing it out.
Suddenly a crack ripped through the air followed by an anguished moan. Again and again, the two sounds echoed through the hallways, the moans getting progressively louder as the whipping continued.
I looked in panic at my guard, thinking that surely whoever was being punished wouldn't survive it, but the asshole looked completely nonplussed. He actually looked like he was savoring the anguished cries. I made a mental note that this guard was a bit sadistic, grateful that his hood was down so that I could see his face and remember him later.
I moved faster, feeling a violent urge to see what was going on. I knew there was nothing I could do, but still, I went quicker until the next cell was the one the sounds were coming from.
After dropping off yet another tray of decaying food that the prisoner was probably better off not eating at all, I pushed the cart forward until I could see inside the next cell.
I let out a little squeak when I saw what was going on.
It was the fae from the other night. It was now obvious where he was getting the wounds on his back from.
He was on his knees on the ground, his pale hair hanging down over his face, his arms stretched out in front of him and tied to a metal pole that was sticking out from the wall. Two guards were standing behind him, giant bullwhips in their hands. As I watched, the guards took turns cracking their whips across the fae's back. His back resembled hamburger meat, a bloody mess of broken flesh that brought tears streaming down my face. What could he possibly have done to deserve something like this?
I knew I was expected to keep walking, I obviously wasn't delivering a tray to this cell. He wouldn't be able to eat with his wounds like that even if the food was edible. The only reason that he was still alive at all with how many times they had whipped him was that he was a fae. They probably came the closest to all of the supernaturals of actually being immortal. It was almost impossible for them to be killed.
I had a feeling this fae was probably wishing for death at the moment though. Which begs the question… how did someone like him end up in this prison? What could he have done to land himself a sentence in these pits?
I took a step forward after hearing a grunt from my guard and my cart hit a rock, making the trays clang as I righted the cart.
The fae had just collapsed onto the ground with one of the guards barking at him to get up. As he struggled to his elbows, his head turned and I could see his brilliant blue eyes staring at me. They were cloudy with pain, no hint of recognition in their lovely depths. I was caught in their gaze though. In that moment I felt like his lifeline and I was frozen in place as we continued to stare at each other as the guards continued to rain down their torture.
The cart was suddenly yanked forward, breaking my eye contact with the fae as I struggled not to fall.
"Keep moving," my guard barked, and I once again looked at the fae as I slowly began to push my cart forward. But he lowered his gaze to the ground again.
I continued to look back until he was out of sight. The sounds of his torture followed me for the rest of my time delivering meals that night.
It followed me to my cell after my shift ended.
And it followed me into my dreams after I finally fell asleep.
The sound of his cries and the sight of those lovely, heartbroken eyes.
Chapter 11
I couldn't get the fae out of my mind. It had been days, and the memory of those eyes were burned into my brain.
I hated it.
I didn't have room in my life to care about the fate of another creature. Not when my own life was so up in the air.
But on the bright side, the fate of the fae at least distracted me from the clusterfuck that seemed to surround me at Nightmare Penitentiary. I was so distracted thinking about him, that I couldn't think about Keon or Alaric.
Not that I didn't see them.
Because I did.
Keon always seemed to be the guard assigned to me lately. He said very little, but I could feel him watching me, always watching, always there. I probably should have been creeped out like a normal person, but I'd never said I was anywhere close to being normal. I relished in the attention, even as I vowed not to repeat our rendezvous. His presence made me feel protected though. I knew as long as he was near me—which he always seemed to be—the monsters that lurked in the cages of the prison wouldn't be able to hurt me.
My behavior in the kitchen with Alaric had alienated me a bit from the others. There was an air of fear laced in all of my interactions with them, like they expected me to sic Alaric on them if they upset me. I still hadn't been able to find out exactly why Alaric was in the maximum security section of the prison...or in prison at all. And it was a bit infuriating. I hadn't heard anything from the others about his incubus powers, which meant that the fear they exuded had nothing to do with that part of him. But it was the part of him that pissed me off the most.
Because of my newly strained relationship with the others in the kitchen, I'd been sent back to the maximum security section of the prison multiple times. And while I enjoyed seeing Sinclair and had been able to sneak her some rock candy as I delivered her food, seeing Alaric was pure torture.
There was always a knowing glance in his eye when I came to his cell, and my body betrayed me every time, leaving me aching and breathless and wanting…
I blamed my body's reaction on the fact that Alaric was an incubus...but I was pretty sure that actually had little to do with what had happened. I had wanted him more than I'd ever wanted anyone else. I still wanted him with a frantic desperation that both shamed me and aroused me at the same time.
Like I said...my life at Nightmare Penitentiary was a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
But I still couldn't forget my fae.
I'd started calling him "my fae" after that night. There was something so tragic about him that it called to me. Like only he could understand the damage that was in my soul, because it was in his soul too.
Realizing that I was thinking about him once again, I stirred the giant pot of chili I'd been helping to prepare a little too vigorously, and it sloshed out the sides, garnering a frustrated sigh from one of the cooks who, before Alaric, probably would have ripped me a new one for wasting food.
I smiled apologetically and got back to work. Still, the image of him stayed with me until I couldn't take not knowing anything about him anymore.
"There's a fae prisoner here. Have you seen him?" I asked, my voice sounding a bit desperate.
She hummed non-committedly.
"Does that mean you've heard about him or you haven't heard about him?" I pressed, a little annoyed at this point.
I would love to see her resist Alaric if he'd turned his attention to her. I really shouldn't be punished for it.
"I've heard of him," she said in a tone that was meant to broker no more questions.
"It's unusual for a fae to be in a regular supernatural prison...is it not?" I asked.
She humphed again.
I was tempted to push the entire pot of chili over.
She must have finally sensed that I was on the edge, because she picked up my abandoned spoon and pointed at me. "Take it," she croaked. "Keep stirring, and I'll talk."
I quickly grabbed the spoon and began stirring once again, taking extra care not to spill any this time.
"You're right that the fae usually handle their matters themselves, but the rumor is that this fae entered the kingdom and something so heinous that the fae had no choice but to cast him out of their realm. The Warden apparently assured them that he would subject the exiled fae to an eternity of torture." She paused for dramatic effect just then. "I pity the creature. But it is nice to have such a looker around the prison, isn't it?" she said with a wink.
I tried to ignore that she was taking pleasure from the fae's plight and continued on. "Do you know what he's accused of doing?" I asked.
Her face scrunched up. "Oh, it isn't that he's accused of it, he was found with the weapon in his hand and the king's blood all over him," she said, enthusiastically waving her spoon around.
