Page 25 of All the Things We Buried

TWENTY FOUR

DORIAN

I t’s funny how love makes you blind. When you’re in it, truly in it, you see nothing else.

Not the warning signs flapping like torn flags.

Not the lies bleeding through the cracks.

Not the people trying to pull you back. You just see them .

And the ones who still saw everyone else?

They were never in love to begin with. The years of loneliness were behind me now. Finally, I was ready to move on.

I was in the basement, laying down the final layer of bricks across the floor.

The space was stripped bare. Raw walls, unfinished wood under my feet.

The cold smell of stone got soaked into my skin.

The altar from Ezekiel was gone. Only the chains still hung from the ceiling, swinging slightly, like they hadn’t realized he was never coming back. I would have to take those down too.

Lenore slipped in quietly. She wore my black T-shirt, and nothing else underneath. Nagi dangled from her hand. She had finally stopped fearing her.

It felt so wrong, like something was too good. After everything, the blood, the madness, the nights that never ended, we had earned peace. And that’s when you start to not trust it. When the storm clears, you wait for the next one.

“Hey,” she said softly, setting Nagi on the small table by the staircase.

“Hey,” I replied, lowering the last brick before sitting on it.

She climbed into my lap. Her hands slid around my neck, her skin warm against mine, and she kissed my forehead.

“I was thinking,” she smiled, brushing her lips against my temple, “what if we burned this place down… got on your Harley, and just rode off?”

I smirked. “And where would we go?”

We were broke. This house was all we had. And still, her idea wasn’t without its charm.

“Somewhere,” she said. Her voice was light. “What if we just sold this place… and disappeared?”

I laughed this time. “No one’s as crazy as the Thorns to buy this dump.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know Cameron can be very convincing. I mean, he got me to sign the papers, didn’t he?”

I kissed her forehead just as she smiled and said, “We could get lost. Just...” Then I kissed the tip of her nose. “You know, whatever,” she whispered.

“I’d rather be lost with you than found without you, Trouble.”

“It’s a plan, then,” she said, rising to her feet. “We can start packing.”

I reached for her hand, studying her face. There was something in her eyes. Something new. Something that hadn’t been there yesterday.

“Is something wrong?”

She shrugged. “It’s this place,” she whispered. “I’m scared.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m so scared that something’s going to happen to you.”

I pulled her against my chest, holding her like that might keep her thoughts out. “Nothing’s going to happen. I promise.”

“But the dream,” she murmured. “The nightmare… You die on your bike. You’re not safe. I see you lying in a morgue, in pieces. And I can’t put you back together.”

“Whoa, whoa, hey…” I cupped her face in my hands and met her gaze. “If you don’t want me riding, I won’t touch a bike again. Ever.” I kissed her softly. “They’re just nightmares. The house, it’s messing with you.”

“But I need you safe,” she whispered. “With me.”

She choked back a sob, her voice breaking. “You can drive. I’d never take that from you. But I need you to come back to me. Safe. ”

And I knew. I knew it wasn’t just fear or dreams. I knew the voice whispering to her in the dark. The same one that once clawed through my mind. Shadow was haunting her now.

I pulled her close, lips brushing hers. “Let me help you forget those thoughts… yeah?” I said, and gently led her toward the chains.

Her brow lifted. “Your idea of curing dark thoughts… is replacing them with darker ones?”

“Something like that,” I murmured.

I stepped over to the table where Nagi was. Inside the drawer was a white ski mask. I took it in my hands, and for a moment, I remembered I had imagined I could become someone else. Someone without a past. Someone untouched by ghosts. That was me when I put that mask on; maybe she can be the same.

I grabbed the rope and turned to her. When I held the mask out, she didn’t flinch. She leaned into it. I pulled it over her head, and she adjusted it. She held out her wrists to me, already knowing what the rope was for.

“Good girl,” I growled, peeling her shirt off.

I tied her wrists tightly, then hooked her right arm to the first hanging chain. Then the left. The metal creaked as I locked her in place.

Her arms were stretched, suspended, her breath soft behind the mask. The ski mask left only her eyes exposed, and I could drown in that ocean-blue stare every time she looked at me.

She stood there vulnerable, waiting. Waiting for me.

I circled her slowly, studying every curve of her body. She was flawless. Too flawless. Like the house had carved her out just to haunt me.

I stopped behind her.

Stepped closer.

Fisted her hair.

I yanked her head back, hard enough to draw a gasp. My fingers found the edge of the mask, pulling it tight just long enough to make her breath catch. She exhaled sharply.

I reached for her hips and pulled her toward me.

Her skin was so soft under my palms. I slid my hand down the curve of her spine, fingers tracing the ridges of each vertebra like piano keys.

I eased my knee between her thighs, moving them apart.

She opened for me without hesitation, already trembling for me.

I let my hand glide over the round swell of her ass, squeezing gently before slipping lower. My fingers found her soaked and swollen pussy, so ready that it made my cock throb.

Still, I took my time. I dropped to my knees.

Gripping her thighs, I pulled her down onto my face. The moment I exhaled warm breath over her clit, she gasped so loud, like I had struck a nerve made only for me.

“Don’t move,” I growled against her flesh.

She froze.

I licked her slowly, up the slick seam of her lower lips, pausing just long enough to flick the tip of my tongue against her swollen clit. She whimpered.

I bit her. Just lightly.

She cried out. My tongue moved in slow, greedy circles, teasing her, tasting her. I licked deeper, tongue pressing again to her clit, faster now, relentless.

She moaned with her head tilted back, body shaking.

I reached up, hands spreading her thighs wider, holding her open for me. Then I slid a finger into her. She clenched around it immediately, her whole body tightening. Then another.

My fingers curled just right, stroking her from the inside while my tongue never left her clit. I could feel her pulse against my mouth. Her thighs trembled against my shoulders. She was close, teetering right at the edge.

“You taste like the sweetest sin,” I murmured into her, then sucked harder, pressing deep inside her with my fingers, feeling her tighten.

I kept licking through it, dragging every last wave from her body until she collapsed forward, twitching, still perched on my mouth, fucked senseless.

I finally pulled back, my chin wet from her, and looked up at her.

“Move back,” I said, hungry for her. “I’m not finished with you.”

I stood up, pulling her onto me; her wrists were shackled above her head. The chains bit into her skin just enough to make her arch.

I stepped in front of her slowly. Her eyes were glazed, pupils blown wide, lips red from little bites after every moan she left.

I reached up and tore the mask from her face, letting it drop to the floor. My lips crashed into hers, desperately, devouring the sounds she made. She tasted like sweat, a mix of sweet and salty. My hand tangled in her hair as I pulled her closer, claiming every breath, every sound.

“Mmine,” I growled.

I unzipped my pants, and they hit the floor, making my hard cock spring free. She raised one leg up onto my hip, and I caught her by the waist, dragging her closer, aligning us.

This time, I didn’t shove. I pressed. Slow. Controlled. Inch by inch, I filled her, watching her eyes flutter shut as she gasped through it, her fingers curling around the cold chains above her. The way she held on made something possessive rise inside me.

I gave her a moment. Just a moment.

Then I fucked her.

My hips snapped forward, faster and deeper with each thrust. The wet slap of our bodies filled the room, tangled with the rattle of her restraints and the moans she couldn’t suppress. Her head dropped back, throat exposed, body arching with every stroke.

“Look at you,” I rasped. “Fucking dripping for me.”

She whimpered. No words. Just the cry of my name.

“Dorian, please,” she gasped, breathless. “Just don’t stop.”

I didn’t.

I drove into her harder. Her body moved with every thrust, the chains above her clinking. Her heat clenched around me, pulling me in deeper, demanding more. And my hand slid up her chest, fingers grazing her collarbone before wrapping around her throat.

Not tight yet. Just enough to feel her pulse racing beneath my palm.

Then I squeezed. Slowly. Enough to make her eyes roll back, to make her gasp and flutter around me like her body didn’t know whether to run or break apart.

She made the most beautiful sound between a moan and a sob.

“Good girl,” I growled, fucking her harder, deeper, punishing and praising all at once. “Take every inch. Let me ruin you.”

Her nails dug into the chains. Her legs shook.

I could feel her inner flesh tightening around me, the frantic pulse in her throat, the way her voice cracked when she tried to say my name.

She was close. So close.

I released her throat just long enough to grab a fistful of her hair and yank her head back.

“Come for me,” I demanded, slamming into her deep. “Now.”

She shattered.

Her whole body shook, eyes rolled back, mouth open in a silent cry as she came around me; tight, wet, shaking.

I didn’t stop.

I grunted, hips moving harder as I released. Her body pulled me in, until I snapped, coming deep inside her with a raw growl, grinding against her as I emptied myself.

My face collapsed against her chest, my mouth tracing kisses along her collarbone, up her neck, and over her chin until it reached her lips.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” I whispered against her. “Don’t you dare ever change.”