Page 22 of All Saints Day (Lucifer and the Saints #2)
Louise
P anic washes over me as the medical staff dressed in white lower my body onto the gurney, a needle in the crook of my arm spreading icy cold liquid into my veins as the world goes dark around me.
As I drift out of consciousness and into the dark space between sleep and dreams, I pray never to wake again.
I can’t go back to that room, to Rook, to the Windmill and their lies, their violence.
The thought of my fated mates, all that has sustained me through this, feels impossibly far away. Even though they will be heartbroken, I hope they will understand why I simply can’t carry on.
Like sinking into cold, dark water—I spiral down, further and further away from the hurt and the fear, but also from light, warmth, and love.
Just let me go. Let it end here , I beg—hugging my knees to my chest as I drift further into the frigid abyss.
Sea salt, rose, sweet oud, syrupy poppy—the scents weave and blend together, like a braided golden chain that drifts down through the dark waters; a glowing lifeline.
My fated mates? Here—in the very depths of my despair? At the very limits of my will? It couldn’t be possible, could it?
Fingers outstretched, I reach for the golden skin.
As soon as my grip closes around the lifeline, I am transported; warm wood paneling, large clear windows, the sharp green of coniferous forest giving way to the softer green of leafy canopies in the valley below; amethyst misty mountains in the distance.
I find my fated mates—my Saints, new and old—in a tangle of limbs, lips, and teeth.
They seem to surface for air—faces turned up to the ceiling as if I float above them like a cloud.
By some incredible stroke of mercy, I have been granted a momentary reprieve from my torture, my prison; filled with the golden sight of the Saints, doing their best to bring Dennis into our ring of endless light.
“Louise!” Dennis reaches for me in breathless delight.
“Louie,” Quentin calls—his perfume hanging around him like a cloud of orchid purple smoke in this otherworldly dimension of shared pleasure.
Caz doesn’t speak my name, just reaches his hand toward me.
“Loulou—” Sébastien rumbles, his hand creeping up and over Caz’s shoulder, following the lines of his lithe arms until his bronze fingers lace through Caz’s inked ones as they stretch skyward.
Suspended above them all—I only wish that I could be with them, skin to skin, mouth to mouth.
Though it is a cruel denial of space, of time—the bond allows us to be connected; heart-to-heart and soul-to-soul.
I fall from above, like drops of rain; like milk dissolves into coffee—diffusing my entire essence into their being and losing the borders of myself for the briefest moments of time.
In the small, bright chalet—I feel the taut yearning of Quentin on the precipice of heat after dosing himself with suppressant melters.
Though he yearns to revisit the touches of Seb and Caz—their trio having drifted into unfamiliarity with one another’s bodies in the painful months since my capture—I feel the hunger for Dennis’ alpha knot that tears through Quentin.
“Fuck,” Quentin hisses, rolling away from the others, writhing on the couch—his hands running over his chest, fingers lingering to toy with his hard nipples before trawling down his abdominals to his throbbing erection.
The others watch him, slightly perplexed, before Quentin whimpers, “Oh god, can’t you feel that? It’s like Louise can feel me—and I can feel her down the bond.” He lets out a high, needy sound as my clit throbs and my core clenches achingly tight. “Holy shit—she’s so tight—I can feel it.”
Quentin’s whole body undulates, and I can feel his sensations reverberating back through me in a feedback loop of passion.
In my haze, I drift into Dennis—his arousal tearing through me like a white-hot flame.
“Unh,” he moans—shuddering as I caress the very outer shell of his consciousness. Because the others haven’t bitten him in yet, it’s as far as I can go—but still; I feel the heat pool between my legs as our shared vibration travels along the fated mating thread stretched between us.
Then it’s as if I’m watching Quentin and Dennis through Caz and Sébastien’s eyes—the sensations firing along our bonds like electricity.
Caz and Seb make hushed breathy sounds as Caz leans back against Seb—Caz’s ass in his gray sweats grinding against Seb’s hard cock and swollen knot.
“ Chère, Loulou,” Seb moans against the nape of Caz’s neck as he feels both my affection and lust for him and Caz coursing through him, his hand curves around Caz’s waist—his reach-around grip, firm and deliciously slow.
Dennis struggles to know where to look, his eyes greedy for the sight of all the Saints at once.
“I don’t know where to start or how,” Dennis pants out.
“Let’s start slow, just focus on feeling good—your intentions for a deep and united bond—and everything will follow after.” Caz reaches for Dennis, his psychotropic perfume making all of their touches echo through me in an oil spill rainbow of metallic colors and soft sounds.
Caz and Dennis lean in, their lips press together and I disappear in a sudden intense wash of color; resurfacing in the intense sensation as their hands wander—fingertips ghosting over hard nipples through cotton t-shirts, Caz’s palm against the hot heat of Dennis’ erection through his jeans.
I watch, as if from above, as Caz and Dennis’ kissing becomes more urgent—Quentin sidling up behind Dennis in a mirror of Caz and Sébastien.
Dennis breaks his kiss with Caz as Quentin helps Dennis’ t-shirt up and over his head, Seb peeling Caz out of his zip-up hoodie and tank top.
Newly freed of his shirt, salt-white skin and tawny freckles standing out on his muscular shoulders and chest—Dennis is admired by the woozy Q—his long porcelain fingers tracing Dennis’ athletic, sculpted physique with an air of nostalgia.
It’s as if I’m experiencing Q’s sensations and memories relayed down the bond as Dennis and Quentin’s mouths meet; the last time they were together—many years ago; a shared bed in a lush villa in Costa Rica after Frank and Q had been undercover for several months.
It’s a bittersweet memory that quickly gives way to the heat of the moment; the suppressant melters making Quentin’s need greater than his heart-wrenching remembrance.
I feel the pulsing clench of my cunt just as Quentin longs for Dennis’ knot to fill him up—by the way the four of them moan, I can tell that all of my Saints can feel my desire to lock Q, to be knotted by Dennis and Seb, to feel all of Caz’s glorious piercings strum me like some sordid instrument, to cum with my mates over and over again like those magical days in the cabin on Goosewing Lake—though I can’t be there with them in this moment, I’m thankful the bond has allowed me this reprieve from my reality; this glimpse of my cosmic lovers.
My breath is stolen from my lungs as Caz wraps his velvet mouth around Quentin’s hard cock—my own clit buzzing as if Caz were going down on me instead.
I watch Seb’s eyebrows pinch together as he grinds his hard cock against Dennis’ ass; his bronze cock peeking up from the valley of Dennis’ sculpted alabaster glutes as Seb feels my pleasure reverberate through him.
Even though Dennis is an alpha, he doesn’t balk at Seb manhandling him while Caz slips Dennis’ cock into his mouth alongside Quentin’s—double barrel.
The sounds that Dennis and Q make as Caz slurps them down make my pussy ache with tightness.
“Fuck!” Q whines as he flops backward into the blankets and couch cushions on the floor. “I just felt everything inside Louie contract—I’m so tight, no…we’re so tight it fucking hurts,” he whines, his fingers reaching between his legs to test his slick asshole.
“What do you need, Q?” Dennis rumbles, doing his best to keep his sea-glass green eyes from rolling back in his head as Caz continues to bob up and down on Dennis’ cock, taking Dennis almost to the back of his throat.
“I need my pack,” Quentin whimpers in desperation.
“How do you need us?” One of Dennis’ freckled hands creeps over the back of Caz’s skull, cradling the buzzed golden crown of his head as Dennis flexes his hips forward, fucking Caz’s face.
“I need my alpha’s knot deep inside me,” Q whines, lifting his hips off the ground, slipping two of his fingers inside his pulsing asshole. I cry out with pleasure as if he were finger-fucking my tight wet pussy. “I need my alpha to cum hard on Seb’s cock while I pump Cazzy full of my cum.”
I can feel my pussy spasm as Caz moans around Dennis’ cock, and Seb shifts his positioning—simultaneously guiding Dennis toward Q and onto all fours.
“And what about you, Louise?” Dennis growls under his breath, barely above a whisper.
I need to cum with all of you—to have a moment of love and joy to save me from this hell I am living through until I am reunited with you. My mind begs.
There is a sudden swell of heat between my thighs—the wet sucking and licking as if I were being devoured—my soul sucked out through my clitoris; and all the other Saints let out low moans.
Seb reaches between Q’s legs, gathering some of his glittering slick to slather over his thick cock before spreading Dennis’ muscular cheeks to lube up Dennis’ winking asshole with some of Tin-tin’s slippery juices.
Dennis lets out a low moan as Seb’s middle finger circles his tight hole, his hips trembling slightly while Q lies back, his eyes hooded as Dennis presses the head of his cock against Q’s slick, tight asshole—Caz preparing to mount Quentin once Dennis has eased a few inches of his length inside of Q’s tightness.
“Fuck,” Dennis hisses as Seb slips his middle finger inside Dennis up to the second knuckle; a cry escaping me as I feel Dennis’ cock stretching Q along with Seb’s finger stretching Dennis.
Caz—clearly attuned to my additional pleasure—gives a little shudder of delight before he clambers over Quentin, easing himself down onto Q’s imposing length with a high-pitched whine.