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“Do you need a release now?

I nod, hopeful. “It’s been so long.”

“Is that why you’re being defiant?”

“Maybe,” I say, willing to agree to almost anything if one of these men will touch me the way I need them to.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls a long object. A pocketknife. A tremor works its way from my belly to between my legs. Fear. Panic. Need. He flips it open, exposing the blade. It’s long. The handle thick.

“You can choose, Imogene. Do you want me to cut you, or to fuck you?”

“What if I want both?”

“Greedy.” There’s an old glint in his eye, like he’s calculating the Lapse.

“You make me that way.” I tell him, without the least bit of shame. “I want the rush. The feel of you.” I look down at Silas, run my fingers along his cheek. “Of him.”

“I can give you what you want.” Levi stands, unzipping his pants, pulling his erect cock out of the flap. “So can he.”

Silas, who has been holding on far longer than he’d like, plants a single, hot kiss on my pussy. He then works his way up my body, stopping for a sharp tug on my nipple. I hiss, “Oh, God,” wanting him to do it again, but he steps aside. Levi stands before me, knife in hand.

“Is this where I ask either of you if this is going too far?” Silas asks, rubbing his palm down the front of his pants.

“We’re good,” Levi says, licking his bottom lip. “But you may want to brace her for this.”

I don’t mind the feel of Silas behind me, his hard erection pressing into my backside. But I don’t know what Silas means until he gently presses the tip of the knife under my ear.

“You’d look lovely painted in red,” he says, voice a whisper. Silas’ hands clench on my hips, this scene unfamiliar, but in my bones it feels right. I know Levi won’t hurt me—no more than I want it.

No more than I crave it.

He trails the blade down my body, circling my breasts, and slashing my abdomen with phantom cuts. The touch feels like a flutter, a whisper against my skin, toying and teasing, making goosebumps rise and my nipples tighten into hard peeks.

He settles the tip on my hip, just below Silas’ fingers, above the brand.

“He doesn’t deserve to be marked on your body,” he says. “You don’t belong to him.”

I feel what he is saying, deep down, like a siren calling my soul. I grab the handle and his hand. Applying pressure, I force the blade into my flesh. Levi’s eyes widen. “Imogene, no—”

At first, it’s a prick, just a slice, but I press harder, slashing through the mangled flesh, pushing over the fresh, still healing scars. I hurts and I bite down on my bottom lip, keeping the scream inside. Silas must sense it, the way I’m about to unleash, and turns my head, kissing me, swallowing the scream into his mouth.

Blood coats my hands and the knife falls to the floor with a clatter.

“Shit,” Levi’s mutters, pulling off his shirt to cover the wound. But I lick Silas’ tongue and face my redheaded partner.

“Let it bleed,” I tell him, catching the slippery warmth in my fingertips. I laugh, feeling a rush—the rush—freedom.

I grab his length, fingers slick and greasy with blood. He pulls back, as if he wants to recoil, but his cock pulses thick in my hand.

“Fuck,” he mutters, liking it. I stroke him, gliding the blood up and down.

“You’re right,” I say, pressing my ass into Silas’ crotch, “he doesn’t own me. You do. Claim me. Make me yours.”

Silas’ hand wraps around my body, palm bloodied and flat on my stomach. Behind me there’s the rustle of fabric and the hard poke of his cock as it’s freed from his pants. He drops into the chair and drags me with him, bringing me down.

“You ready for me?” he asks, rubbing my clit. I buck and the tip of his cock slots against my entrance, pressing into me until his hands steady my hips and he punches inside. He fills me, his cock deep inside and I exhale at the feel of him, stretching me wide.

Levi closes the gap, taunting me with his cock in my face. I grab it, pulling the tip to my mouth, licking the salty, warm blood off the head. His legs tense, and he groans, thrusting deep to the back of my throat.