Page 82 of All the Things We Buried

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.”

TWENTY FIVE

LENORE

“Breathe Me” – Sia

The storm struck hard tonight. The lights blinked out, and the house got swallowed in black. Dorian told me to stay in bed, that he would grab candles from the kitchen, but that was half an hour ago. He never came back.

The room had turned to ice. Shadows thickened in the corners, stretching across the walls. My skin prickled beneath the blanket. I tried to pull it tighter, but then something changed. There was pressure. Weight. As if someone were standing on the bed, pressing down on my legs.

I froze.

My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t dare pull the blanket down. I didn’t need to. I felt it move. Not by me. Someone else was there. Fingers peeled the blanket from my face.

And I couldn’t open my eyes. Fear glued them shut. Until something dripped onto my cheek. Cold as rain. A slow drop. I knew. She was back.

The Wet Lady.

Haunting me again.

Something inside me whispered for me to look. I didn’t want to, but I did. And there she was.

Hovering inches above me. Her hair clung to her face, wet and dark. And her face, I saw her face for the first time, and she...

It was mine. She wasme.