Drusilla
It almost feels like home.
Almost.
Sitting in the back garden of the ivy-covered manor deep in the northern part of Screaming Woods, I can finally relax. A little.
The place is brimming with old magic and hidden doors that fascinate me. Sometimes I find libraries behind those doors, sometimes it’s a closet full of treasures that take my breath away. But sometimes, those doors hide hidden nightmares, and I’ve become cautious about opening them now.
Rapha moved us here three days ago, fulfilling the promises he made to me centuries ago.
He’s brought me magnificent jewels and, once, cursed rubies that drew me into their sparkling depths before he pulled me away, hiding the jewels so that I wouldn’t become ensnared by them again.
He brings me clothes with designer labels that settle perfectly on my curves, or so the enchanted mirror he brought me portrays.
What he hasn’t given to me with magic, he’s given to me with modern technology. I have a computer, a tablet, and a phone, all of which I’m terrified of. However, I do love television and often lose myself in the programs and movies for hours.
Still, I hate most of these modern “conveniences,” as he calls them. I stare out the window now, watching as my crisp white bed linens flutter in the breeze on the clothesline I put up between two trees. That awful drying machine can never compare with air-dried bed linens.
I’ve barely seen Rapha in the last three days as he’s been in the Below, fulfilling his obligations to Lucifer. He hasn’t touched me again, apart from a few chaste kisses, although he holds me possessively through the night, as if he can’t bear not to.
Despite his absence, I enjoy the silence and solitude here.
The inn was pleasant but always noisy, so Rapha brought us to this place.
He has a nasty habit of filling the beautiful space with magical objects and noisy machines.
I pull the plugs on the machines when he leaves, which annoys him, but I don’t need them.
I grew up in a time when everything had to be done by hand, and without those familiar tasks to ground me and give me time to meditate, I become flustered and overthink things.
“Dru?” Rapha calls from inside the house.
“I’m out here, Rapha,” I reply, looking toward the door.
I’m getting used to the additions to his appearance, but today, I see more darkness in him, like a cloud shimmering around him. It worries me. Is his work for Lucifer changing him?
“Why are you frowning, love?” Rapha asks, pulling me into his arms.
I rest my head against his chest and melt into his embrace.
“Nothing. I’m just glad you’re home.” I hold my face up for a kiss.
I’ve come to need these kisses, even if something or someone always seems to interrupt us before we can take it any further.
His lips brush mine softly at first, but I can taste the hunger coiled beneath, a wild, dangerous thing. His arms cage me against his chest, hard and unyielding, and his scent—dark spice and power—wraps around me like a spell I never want to break.
I’m desperate to be truly his again, but insecurity wiggles its way in.
He pauses, his mouth hovering over mine, his crimson eyes narrowed as they search my face.
“What is it?” he rumbles, tilting my chin up with one claw-tipped finger. “Something’s wrong. Tell me.”
I try to look away, but he won’t let me. His touch is gentle but unmovable, as if he could hold back all the world’s darkness with a single hand.
“Dru,” he growls, low and patient, “speak.”
Heat rises to my cheeks, shame swirling in my gut. I force the words out, raw and trembling. “It’s just… You haven’t touched me since the other night, when Lucifer stole you away.”
Rapha goes still. A muscle jumps in his jaw, and the darkness around him seems to pulse.
“Drusilla.” My name is a rasp, full of anguish. “You think I don’t want you?”
I flinch at the ferocity in his voice. “I don’t know,” I whisper, blinking back tears. “You hold me, but you don’t touch me. You barely kiss me. I thought… maybe you don’t want me anymore.”
His entire frame shudders, and for a terrifying moment, I think he might explode. But then his forehead drops against mine, his breath coming ragged and hot.
“ Amora mea ,” he groans, his voice breaking, “I want you every fucking moment. I ache for you. But…”
“But?”
His arms tighten, claws digging lightly into my waist in a desperate hold.
“I feel dirty ,” he spits, venom in every syllable, though not aimed at me.
“My hands are stained with greed, with taking, with death. I collect souls for Lucifer, Drusilla. Filthy, corrupted things. And then I come back to you—bright, sweet, good —and I don’t want to taint you with that filth. ”
My heart twists so hard it hurts.
“You think you could taint me?” I ask, swallowing a sob. “After everything we’ve survived?”
He goes still again, but this time it’s like he’s listening to a truth he cannot bear to accept.
I press closer, my hands sliding to his face, cradling it. “Rapha,” I breathe, letting all my love pour out of me, “you could never taint me. You saved me. You chose me. You set me free. ”
His lips tremble under my fingertips, and a pained sound breaks from him.
I stand on tiptoe, kissing him slowly, sweetly, then deeper, until he groans into my mouth. When I break away, I look him dead in the eyes.
“Let me show you,” I whisper.
Without breaking eye contact, I sink to my knees.
Rapha’s eyes flare, turning molten, dangerous. “Drusilla?—”
“Hush,” I command softly, palms sliding up his thighs, feeling the iron heat of him. “Let me worship you, my love.”
He lets out a hoarse, strangled moan as I free his cock from his pants and wrap one hand around the thick, impossibly hard length of him.
“Gods,” I breathe, licking my lips. “You’re…beautiful.”
His claws flex against the air, as if he can’t decide whether to pull me up or keep me down.
I make the choice for him, taking him into my mouth, slow and reverent. His taste is dark, salty, and powerful, sending a fresh flood of heat through me.
“Fuck,” he growls, voice ragged, his hand sinking into my hair. “Dru?—”
I slide my lips down him, deeper, until he hits the back of my throat, and he jerks, muscles trembling. He tries to pull away, but I grip his thighs, refusing to let him. I’m a novice, working on instinct alone, but I let my want, my need , guide me .
I hollow my cheeks, working him with my lips and tongue, feeling him throb with every stroke. His growls shake the walls, low and feral, until he finally loses his fight and rocks into my mouth with a helpless rhythm.
I look up. The agony and ecstasy warring in his crimson eyes make me even bolder as I cup his heavy balls and roll them gently between my fingers.
He yanks me up so fast the world spins. His mouth crashes down on mine, all heat and desperation, as he lifts me in his arms and carries me to the bed.
“Mine,” he snarls against my lips. “I’m going to bury myself so deep inside you, we’ll never be apart again.”
“Yes,” I gasp, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Please, Rapha. Now. ”
Rapha lowers me to the bed so carefully, as if I might shatter, though there’s nothing fragile left in me except my heart. My legs fall open for him instinctively, welcoming him, needing him.
His crimson eyes blaze, and he lowers himself between my thighs, the heat of his body pressing me into the soft linen. One large, claw-tipped hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing a tear I didn’t know had fallen.
“Tell me to stop,” he rasps, voice ragged, “and I will.”
“Never,” I whisper, trembling. “I want this. I want you. ”
A growl vibrates deep in his chest. He shifts his hips, and the thick head of his cock brushes my entrance, so much bigger than before, stretching me already.
I gasp, gripping his forearms as anticipation knots tight in my belly.
“Breathe,” he commands gently, pressing a kiss to my lips.
Then he pushes forward, slowly at first, claiming me inch by impossibly thick inch. My body resists him, burning as he stretches me wider than I thought possible. A cry escapes me. It’s not pain exactly, but it’s intense , a delicious sting that blurs the line between pleasure and too much.
“Easy, mea amora ,” he soothes, his voice breaking as he struggles to hold back. “You’re so tight. So perfect.”
He goes deeper. My body clenches instinctively, making him groan, a low, inhuman sound that rumbles through his massive frame.
“Rapha,” I whimper, nails digging into his arms. “It’s…too much.”
He freezes, sweat sheening his brow, muscles taut as stone. “Should I stop?”
“No,” I breathe, fighting through the dizzy overwhelm. “Wait. Let me…adjust.”
His forehead rests against mine, his breaths coming in ragged, tortured bursts. He pulses inside me, so big I swear I can feel him everywhere, as though he’s carved himself into my soul.
“Gods, you’re killing me,” he groans, one hand clutching my hip like an anchor while he braces his weight on the other. “I’d forgotten…You feel like heaven, Drusilla.”
I force myself to relax, focusing on the steady, pounding rhythm of his heart against my chest. I wiggle, finding a position that feels good. The pain begins to soften, melting into something fierce and bright, a pleasure that coils deep in my belly.
“Okay,” I whisper shakily. “I’m ready.”
He growls again, low and raw, and draws back before thrusting forward with a slow, relentless roll of his hips. I cry out, overwhelmed by how full I feel, how right this is.
“Look at me,” he commands, voice thick with need.
I do, and it’s like a lightning strike as our bond crackles to life, burning through every nerve.
Rapha moves in long, powerful strokes that drag against every sensitive place inside me, setting my body alight. The edge of pain fades completely, replaced by a spreading, molten pleasure that builds higher with every thrust.
My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss that is all teeth and tongues and desperate need. He groans into my mouth, thrusting harder now, faster, his control slipping away.
“Mine,” he snarls against my lips, pounding into me so deep that I feel him in my bones. “You will always be mine.”
“Yes,” I sob, dizzy with sensation, nails raking down his broad, sweat-slick back. “I’m yours. Forever.”
His movements become rough, frantic, as if he can’t get close enough, can’t merge our bodies deeply enough.
The pleasure builds and builds, crashing over me in waves that steal my breath. I break apart around him, crying out, my walls clenching tight, milking him as he follows me over the edge.
“Drusilla,” he roars as he drives deep one last time and spills inside me with a groan that echoes through my soul.
We shatter together, tangled and shaking, bound by a love so powerful it could tear the world apart.
When the tremors ease, he collapses against me, burying his face in my hair, his breath ragged.
I hold him, heart thundering, overwhelmed by how close we are, by how, even after all these centuries, Rapha is stillmy home .
He slides down my body, resting his head on my breasts and pressing his ear to my racing heart.
“Never leave me again,” he whispers brokenly, and I feel the splash of his tear between my breasts.
“Never,” I promise vehemently, stroking my fingers through his hair. “You’re mine, too.”