Page 11 of Broken Shadows (Corrupt Shadows Duet #2)
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Evie
The security and warmth from Lorcan’s body quickly fades as reality rudely encroaches on my post orgasm high. He sweeps me into a bathroom I have yet to make use of—the jade color scheme blurring at the edges of my vision.
Panic claws at my throat, and my heart flees to the back of my ribs, clutching onto the bones with its atriums and veins. I squeeze my eyes shut as memories slash across my mind’s eye, the cruel hands of someone carrying my freshly tortured body, sheer agony radiating every bone, muscle, and nerve. My lungs inflate a quaking breath and Lorcan’s scent dissolves the daymare.
I open my eyes and fix my gaze on his neck, working to unlock my joints and unknot my muscles one fiber at a time.
My demon cuddles me to his chest as I crawl back to the present, banishing all painful thoughts into my subconscious. His throat tattoo faintly vibrates as I trace the lines of the two facing skulls with my index finger, as if coming alive under my touch. I relax further into his arms as magic goes to work at his behest, preparing us a bath. But too soon my muscles tighten once more.
Lorcan doesn't do nice.
If I knew this side of him existed, I might have fled to the graveyard sooner… like when we had endless alone time in Shadow Realm. Well, except for Ezra.
Still, I am unused to him being so gentle with me. “Put me down,” I choke out too loudly, my words seeming to reverberate off the walls. I squirm in his arms, but he only holds me tighter.
“Shit. What’s wrong, Little Witch?” Lorcan questions softly. The muscles in my legs tighten as the icy black honeycomb tiles meet the souls of my feet.
The automatic response of ‘nothing’ curls on my tongue but I swallow it.
Lorcan sets me onto the vanity. I sigh, hanging plants tangle in my hair and tickle the side of my face. His nostrils flare as he slams his palms against the mirror beside my head. “Don’t you fucking dare say ‘fine’ or ‘nothing’, Evie.” A shadow curls around my throat, it’s pressure oddly comforting. “We both know those words only temporarily hide such pretty lies.”
He slides a finger over the tattoo on my chest and whispers into my ear. “You can keep fighting against me, but I’m not going anywhere.” Lorcan presses his thumb against the ink on my breast and gnashes his teeth close to my earlobe. “You are mine. ”
My eyes narrow on his lengthening, sharp teeth. Our breathing mingles as he leans into me, our chests flush. I grit my teeth, ignoring my hardened nipples sliding against his bare chest. A deep growl rumbles behind his ribs, my sensitive skin soaking in the vibrations.
The momentary anxiety retreats as quickly as it came, but it’s too fun to play with my demon. The corner of my lip twitches upward. “Perhaps.”
Lorcan’s eyes squeeze shut for the length of a heartbeat, then he throttles me with his gaze. He holds my stare with unwavering, determined focus, and emits a growl so low and deep it raises the fine hair all over my body.
Fuck—that sound.
“Must you be so combative, woman? I just want to take care of you. When will you accept that?” he utters so close against my lips, kissing me with every word. His continuous growling lining his words with a thrilling and seductive, yet deadly purr.
My lips part. “You’re serious.”
“Of course, I’m godsdamn serious. I don’t waste my fucking time spewing words without meaning. Enough of this, My Witch.”
Lorcan grabs me around the waist, then deposits me in the half-filled claw foot tub. The water stings my cold, rain dampened skin, and I hiss as lift the lower half of my body to hover over the water. A palm presses against my sternum and my arms shake, then I fall back into the water with a splash.
Lorcan looms over me, his claws scraping against the smooth, rolled edge of the tub. “You will be a good girl and let me bathe you. Your skin is like fucking ice,” he commands, fury sharpening the skin along his cheekbones and jaw, then rises and reaches blindly for a green jeweled tone bottle sitting on a convenient shelf to the left of the vanity. His tattooed knuckles tighten around the delicate-looking glass. “Don’t fight me on this. You. Will. Not. Win,” he pontificates, as if I have no choice in the matter.
I remind myself all I wanted to do was get under his skin a little, then willingly concede… for now. “I know.” Surprisingly, he’s making it nearly impossible to deny it otherwise.
His anger sharpened features smooth out and his always present smirk slides into place.
“Good girl.”
My stomach swoops.
Bubbles froth to the surface as Lorcan pours a healthy dollop of the liquid under the running silver faucet. I gasp as I catch the reflection of something dark, yet housing a soft yellow glow, moves behind us in the long, shining neck of the spout. My neck twinges as I whip my head to the side and twist my torso, but I can’t see past the muscular tattooed bulk of his body.
His fingers caress my cheek, then folds them into an easy grip on my chin as he looks down at me with a smirk. “Be easy, Baby. It’s just my shadows lighting some candles,” he says, then rests his jean clad ass on the edge of the tub.
I blow out a breath. How long will it take for my nerves to stop buzzing in my veins this time? Trauma is not new to me, and for years, the only person I had to rely on was myself. But now… I have Lorcan.
My emotions knot into a ball even a cat would struggle to unravel.
Fuck. Focus on the present, Evie.
I roll my shoulders back and force myself to lean against the tub. My eyes trace the v-lines dipping into the top of his unbuttoned pants, the subtle shifts of his movements flexing the slabs of muscle. Lust blooms in my core.
Lorcan’s shadows fetch another bottle, this one a gorgeous, jeweled azure, then he deposits a puddle of citrus and sage scented liquid into his palm and lathers it onto my roots.
“I can smell your arousal,” Lorcan mentions causally.
I moan as his thumbs and strong fingers massage my scalp and I relax into his touch as his strong, nimble fingers clean my hair. “I’m positive that’s true.”
He laughs. “Close that bratty mouth and let me pamper you. Well, for now. I’ll need it spread nice and wide when I fuck your throat later.”
My moan dances among the bubbles floating on the water, and I release a satisfied sigh as he continues to wash my hair. “Promises, promises.”
Lorcan hums, “Mmm. That's it. Relax your muscles and allow the heat to soak into your bones.” His fingers pause their soothing ministrations, almost hesitantly, then resumes. “You've been through so fucking much… I won't ask you about it now. But at some point, we need to have a discussion,” He coils a tendril of my wet hair around his index finger, “but not until you're ready, Little Witch.”
My gaze fixates on the large flakes of heavy snow falling behind the two expansive arched windows making up a nook for the tub, their tracery thick between the panes of clear glass. I rest my neck on the rolled towel and close my eyes, exhaustion and emotional overload zapping my energy.
There is something about watching it snow while cuddled up in the warmth indoors that makes my heart throb with contentment.
I look away and play with the bubbles tickling the upper curves of my breasts and let the conversation drop completely.
My demon skillfully rinses the shampoo and croons, “Rest, I’ve got you.” Then works conditioner into my hair.
***
His warmth teases my senses awake, surrounding me in a cocoon of safety. Lorcan swirls his index finger slowly in the hollow of my throat, lightly stroking whirls and other unknown patterns onto my delicate skin.
“What time is it?” I ask him groggily and blink my bleary eyes. The bedroom looms around us, one shadow indistinguishable from another. I note the absence of moonlight, only the glittering, inky cloud-free sky meeting my tired stare through the ornate window.
“Almost three. Plenty of time for more sleep…” Lorcan splays his fingers on my lower back. “Or anything else you might want to indulge in.”
Figures. Fucking insomnia. I usually wake around this time each night. In fact, it was close to three when he scolded me for drinking coffee back in my apartment. Longing for the place that was my home, the only thing close to a safe haven I had at the time, sweeps through me. Memories of Gomez and I living our lives pre demons curve my lips in a small smile. “Nearly the witching hour,” I say through a yawn. “Did you get any sleep?”
“I have better things to do than waste the night reliving nightmares,” Lorcan grumbles. With his words, I realize my sleep was inexplicably dreamless, despite the recent torture and all the bullshit from my past haunting my waking hours. I wriggle my body backward into his, my ass rubbing against his groin in the process. Lorcan growls softly in my ear as his cock twitches between my naked cheeks.
“What could possibly be better than sleep?” I ask.
Lorcan inhales but holds the breath in his lungs as if he needs the time to formulate a response. “I was watching your chest rise and fall,” he says through an exhale. “Counting each heartbeat. It soothes a part of me I thought died centuries ago,” he grumbles as if put out by the feeling.
I sigh contentedly, the languid exhale kissing his skin where my head rests on his biceps, then skate my fingertips over the goosebumps rising on his skin. My demon hums and guides my hair—the heavy mass silken from his expert washing and moisturizing hours earlier—away from my neck to the fluffy cloud-like pillow behind us.
Lorcan growls lightly and grinds against my ass while parting my thighs with his knee. His precum covered tip glides against my me, pleasure sparking everywhere it touches, then notches himself at the entrance of my wet pussy. “I missed this,” Lorcan says hoarsely into my neck, and peels his hand from my hip to skate his palm down my belly. I gasp, my core warming pleasantly as he cups my sex possessively and my clit throbs under the heel of his large hand.
This demon is overwhelming at the best of times, but the sweet and sexy way he’s acting now? Catastrophically devastating.
Lorcan leans over my torso, his chest pressing onto my side, then hovers his lips over mine. “The tortuous days you were… gone,” he says brokenly, the rich bass of his voice cracking in places. “I dreamt of nothing but fucking murdering them all, then making you come all over my cock while you’re draped over their corpses.” He kisses me softly, the action in direct contrast to his violent rage filled words.
Lorcan swallows thickly, pulling back and our eyes lock, the same searing lust setting my skin ablaze reflecting in his hungry stare. Tension filled angst simmers between us like the frothing waves of an ocean during a hurricane before we reach for each other with greedy hands.
Taking.
Claiming.
Consuming.
I reach backward and grip the nape of his neck as we kiss, forcing the weight of his sculpted, tattooed upper body onto my awkwardly twisted torso. I don’t give a shit if my spine snaps from the position.
I need him.
All of him.
Our bond sings with intensity as his tongue duels with mine. Lorcan sucks on my tongue, and I moan into his mouth. His teeth sharpen, nicking my lips, the taste of iron fueling my desperate desire. Lorcan rocks his hips against my ass, his thick cock gliding through the mess he created at the apex of my thighs.
I startle as he parts his fingers around the head of his swollen erection. Groaning, he rubs his cock between the V of his tattooed fingers and cups my pussy. Arousal slips between his fingers as his hand glides easily over my clit, pleasuring us both at once.
A whimper slips from me, but no words are spoken between us.
We don't need them.
Our bodies speak louder and more coherently than our tangled thoughts ever could. In fact, the presence of his noticeably absent shadows makes this all feel vastly more intimate. It’s just us, who we really are when stripped down to our souls, skin against skin. I arch my back, urging Lorcan to sink inside me. He chuckles and traps my throat in his free hand, growling long and deep as he thrusts into my aching, needy pussy.
Time blurs by, its meaning nonexistent as we rock against each other, my hips meeting his every thrust. Delirium clouds all rational thought as I moan and whimper, the pressure within me building to mind boggling levels. Lorcan moans and his fingers flex tightly around the column of my throat. I don't know how long we lose ourselves in each other's arms, but eventually, his hard, deep thrusts penetrate me with ravenous intensity.
He nips my earlobe, then groans. “Are you going to come for me, Baby Girl.”
“Yesss,” I moan, teetering on the edge of orgasm. I jerk as he pinches my clit between his thumb and forefinger firmly. He strokes the skin around it in an upward motion, massaging the epicenter of nerves. My breath stalls in my lungs as I crash violently into my climax—pure rapture. I bite into his tense shoulder as my toes go numb, riding the brutal ecstasy filled waves.
“Good fucking girl,” he praises, the words rolling from his tongue in a half growl, half moan. I slide my hand between my legs and wrap my fingers around the base of his shaft. He jerks against me and grunts out a gasp as I tighten my fist, the silky skin of his hard cock sliding erotically within the circle of my fingers and into my body. “Ughng, fuck me that feels so damn good,” he groans, then wraps his arms and legs around me and shudders. “Evie,” Lorcan moans with a voice like it’s been sifted through gravel. “Evie. Evie. Evie.” His cock swells, then gloriously hot cum splashes inside my pussy.
I shiver as another small wave of bliss zips through me. “I love when you come inside me,” I say, my words slurring with exhaustion. I stroke my fist down his still hard cock a few more times, milking him until his cum spills around our cuddled sexes.
Lorcan’s mouth tips upward wolfishly, then his head lowers and caresses my lips in a kiss. “Good,” Lorcan says passionately, “because I will never stop.”