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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ISOLDE

The moment CJ’s hand touches my neck, I should be terrified. Instead, a treacherous heat floods through me. His eyes are furious, dark with something beyond anger, something primal and possessive that makes my knees weak and my pussy go damp.

His nostrils flare when he catches the scent, and a low growl rumbles from his chest.

“You drank from him,” he growls, backing me further into the room. “The fallen angel.”

My back hits the wall, and CJ crowds me, his body radiating a strange heat that sears through my clothes. His scent envelops me, and my mouth floods with saliva.

“So what if I did?” I challenge, finding my voice despite the fear coursing through me. For some reason, I’m getting off on it. I discover that I get off on making him jealous. Why? It’s probably the stupidest thing I have ever done. “You don’t own me.”

His laugh is low, dangerous. “Don’t I?” His grip on my throat tightens fractionally, not enough to hurt me, but enough to remind me of his strength. “Tell me why, Isolde. Tell me why you bit him.”

The ‘and not me’ hangs unspoken in the air. His thumb traces the pulse point at my neck, a gentle caress that contradicts the fierce possessiveness of his grip.

“Why?” he demands again.

“I needed his blood for a spell,” I admit, seeing no point in lying. “Blood of the forsaken. He had conditions.”

CJ’s eyes darken further, his jaw clenching so hard I can hear his teeth grinding. “Conditions,” he repeats, the word dripping with venom. “And you agreed to them.”

His possessive fury should make me cower, but it has the opposite effect. Some reckless part of me wants to push him further, to see just how far his control can stretch before it snaps entirely.

“It was just a bite,” I whisper. “I needed his blood for a reveal spell. Something was writing threats on my window.”

His expression shifts slightly, concern flickering beneath the rage. “Threats? What kind of threats?”

“’Will die’ written in the condensation.” I leave out the part about discovering it was just William trying to communicate.

“And you didn’t think to come to me?” His voice drops lower, more dangerous. “You went to him instead?”

“I didn’t go to him,” I protest. “We ran into each other, and he offered when he realised what I needed.”

“How convenient.” CJ’s hand slides from my throat to cup my face, his thumb brushing roughly across my lower lip. “And did you enjoy it, Issy? Taking his blood? Sinking your fangs into his neck?”

His face is so close now that I can feel his breath against my lips.

“It was just feeding,” I murmur, though we both know it was more than that. “He is a curious creature. He wanted to know what it feels like to be fed from.”

“He wanted to know what it felt like to have your fangs slicing into his flesh?” he says. “I want to know that too, Isolde.”

“Then ask me,” I practically pant at the look in his eyes. It’s changed from fury to longing. “You know you want to.”

I smile softly when I throw his words back at him.

His eyes flash dangerously. “I don’t ask,” he whispers, his lips brushing against mine as he speaks. “I take.”

Suddenly, his mouth claims mine with bruising intensity, swallowing my gasp. His kiss is nothing like I imagined, and I have imagined it countless times. It’s violent, possessive, demanding. His tongue invades my mouth, staking territory. I should push him away, should fight against this blatant claim, but my body betrays me. My hands fist in his shirt, pulling him closer rather than pushing him away.

He tastes like darkness and desire, like everything I’ve been denied for my entire sheltered life. His hands grip my waist, lifting me against the wall so our bodies align perfectly, his cock pressing against me in a way that makes me whimper into his mouth.

“You’re mine, Isolde,” he growls against my lips. “Say it.”

“No,” I gasp, even as my body arches into his.

His laugh is dark, amused. “Your mouth says no, but your body...” He cups my pussy and squeezes roughly, making me moan. “Your body knows the truth.”

I turn my head, breaking the kiss, panting. “This doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, but it does.” His mouth trails down my neck, his fangs scraping against my pulse point. “I can smell your desire, hear your heart racing. You want this as much as I do.”

“Wanting isn’t the same as belonging,” I whisper, as his hands find their way under my shirt, skimming over my ribs to cup my breast through my bra.

“We’ll see about that,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over my nipple, making it harden instantly. “I’ll make you admit it, Issy. I’ll make you beg for it.”

His confidence infuriates me, but it also sends a rush of heat straight to my core. I’ve never been touched like this, never felt this consuming need that threatens to override all rational thought.

“You’re so responsive,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “So perfect for me.”

His mouth crashes to mine again, gentler this time but no less possessive. I melt into him, allowing myself this moment of weakness, of surrender. His tongue tangles with mine, and I taste his hunger, his need. It mirrors mine, amplifies it until I’m dizzy with want.

When he pulls back, his eyes are almost entirely black, only the faintest ring of amber visible around his pupils. “Bite me, Isolde,” he commands, tilting his head to expose the strong column of his neck. “Let me feel what it’s like to be bitten by you.”

The offer stuns me. My fangs descend automatically at the sight of his exposed throat, my hunger rising to match my desire.

I’ve never been so aroused in my entire life, which, admittedly, doesn’t say much, but fuck. I want to pounce on him. I want to ravage him like a feral beast. I want to be a monster with him and see how far he will let me before he stops me.

I lean forward, hesitating just a breath away from his skin. The moment feels monumental, charged with significance beyond the physical act. This isn’t just feeding, it’s acceptance of something deeper, something binding.

My fangs pierce his skin, and the world explodes into sensation. His blood floods my mouth, rich and intoxicating, nothing like the dispensers or even Cassiel’s celestial essence. CJ’s blood tastes like power incarnate. Dark, complex, with undertones of something ancient and wild.

He groans, his body pressing harder against mine. I wrap my legs around him and he hikes me higher. His fingers tangle in my hair, holding me to him as I drink. Each pull of my mouth draws another sound from his throat, a mixture of pleasure and surrender that makes my head spin.

He presses me to the wall and flicks open the button on my pants. I let out a soft mewl when he slips his hand inside and past the barrier of my knickers.

“Fuck,” he hisses, sliding his fingers over my clit. “I knew it would be like this.”

I should stop. I know I should. But his blood is addictive, singing through my veins like liquid fire. I tremble as he brings me to an orgasm faster than either of us expected. My clit thumps under his fingers, my blood rushing through my body as I drink, deeper, faster.

I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. I claw at him, practically crawling up his body to get a better grip on him. He breathes heavily as we stumble backwards, my fangs still latched into his skin.

“Issy,” he groans. “Fuck.”

He slips a finger inside me and then freezes before he removes it and breathes in deeply. “Stop.”

I don’t pay any attention to him. I keep drinking.

“Isolde, if you don’t stop, I won’t be able to stop the inevitable, and I doubt you want your virginity ripped away without proper preparation.”

Those words pierce through my bloodlust haze. I wrench my mouth away from his neck, my fangs retracting as I stare at him wide-eyed, his blood still on my lips.

CJ’s face is a storm of emotions. Desire, hunger, and something that looks almost like reverence. He brushes his thumb across my bottom lip, collecting his blood before bringing it to his mouth. The gesture is so intimate, it makes me shiver.

His eyes search mine, dark and serious. “I won’t take that from you against a wall in a feeding frenzy, Isolde.”

I’m trembling, still wrapped around him, his hand still intimately pressed against me. The puncture wounds on his neck have already healed, but the evidence of my feeding stains the collar of his once pristine white shirt.

“Why not?” I challenge, my voice breathy. “Isn’t that what monsters do? What you do? Take what you want?”

His lips curve into a dangerous smile. “Oh, I’ll take it, Issy.” He presses his forehead against mine. “But when I do, it will be deliberate. Calculated. I want you trembling, begging, knowing exactly what you’re giving me.”

My heartbeat thunders in my ears as his words sink in. “You’re so sure I’ll beg,” I whisper, unable to keep the tremor from my voice.

“I am.” He sets me down gently, his hands lingering on my waist as if reluctant to break contact.

I step back, needing distance to clear my head. His blood hums through my system, a potent reminder of what just happened between us.

“This doesn’t mean I’m yours,” I say.

CJ watches the gesture with hooded eyes. His hand darts out to grasp my wrist. He brings it to his mouth, his eyes never leaving mine as his fangs drop straight into my flesh.

I gasp in shock at the bold act.

The sharp, erotic pain shoots up my arm as CJ’s fangs sink deep into my wrist. My blood flows into his mouth, and I watch, mesmerised, as his throat works with each swallow. It’s the first time I’ve ever been bitten, and every single part of me is glad that it is CJ.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, not pulling away despite the voice in my head screaming that I should .

He smiles against my skin and snaps his fangs back before he has removed them from my wrist, causing me to hiss in pain. “Tell me again that you’re not mine.”

“I’m not.” I cradle my wrist to my chest when he releases me, but I’m not so sure now. I’ve given him carte blanche over my body, to touch me, to feed from me, to take my soul and darken it with his own. I’m not sure not being his is even an option now.

He gives me space and glances around the room, his gaze lingering on certain spots as if sensing something. “So, what did your reveal spell show you? What was writing threats on your window?”

The abrupt change of subject throws me off balance. That is a talent he learned from somewhere. “A ghost. His name is William. He died here a hundred years ago, pushed from the Bell Tower.”

CJ’s eyebrows lift fractionally. “And you trust this ghost?”

“More than I trust you,” I retort, though we both know it’s a lie.

He smirks, moving toward the full-length mirror and peering into it. He moves the angle slightly before adjusting his hair and then his cuffs. He is absolutely the sexiest creature alive, and he has me. He has all of me. I’m just not sure I want him to know it yet.

“Is this ghost here now?” he asks with a wicked smile, catching my gaze in the mirror .

I shake my head, but I know William is still hovering in the walls. I can sense him. Cold and watchful. I feel a prickle of unease at the thought of him witnessing what just happened between CJ and me.

“Hmm,” CJ murmurs, turning from the mirror to face me. “And what else did this William tell you?”

I hesitate, unsure how much to reveal. The journal hidden in my bookbag feels like a weight, a secret I’m not ready to share. “Not much. He was a student here. He’s been haunting this room for a century.”

“And someone murdered him?”

“Apparently.”

“Intriguing little mystery you have. What does he want?”

“He wants to know who killed him.”

“A hundred years ago?”

I nod.

“And he expects you to help him with this?”

“He has no one else.”

“Does he know you belong to me?”

“I don’t belong to you,” I say automatically, but this time, there is a definite lack of conviction that even I can hear.

“Part of me wishes I had claimed your virginity earlier. Then he would be under no misconceptions that you are mine.”

“I don’t think William is interested in me that way,” I mutter, though the cold presence in the room has intensified at CJ’s words.

CJ laughs, the sound low and knowing. “Ghost men are still men, Isolde. Dead or not, they want what they can’t have.”

I feel a sudden chill brush past me, and CJ’s eyes narrow, tracking the movement. His senses are sharper than I realised.

“Interesting,” he murmurs. “Your ghost friend doesn’t like me much.”

“Can you blame him?” I challenge, crossing my arms. “You barge in here, manhandle me, and then claim ownership like I’m a piece of furniture.”

CJ moves toward me with that fluid, predatory grace that makes my breath catch. “Is that what you think this is?” His voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “Some territorial pissing contest?”

“Isn’t it?” I hold my ground despite the urge to step back.

He stops inches from me, close enough that I can feel his heat. “This isn’t about territory, Issy. It’s about inevitability.”

“There’s nothing inevitable about us,” I protest, but my voice lacks conviction.

“No?” His fingers trace my jawline, feather-light. “Then why does your body respond to mine like it was made for me? Why does your blood sing in my veins like it belongs there? How do I know that my cock will fit inside you perfectly? Why does feeding from you feel like it’s something that I’ve been missing my whole life, and didn’t even know it?”

“Don’t,” I whisper, shaking my head.

“Why?”

“My life is complicated.”

“So is mine.”

I scoff. “I doubt it. Look at you. You have a charmed life. You have everything and anything you want.”

“Not everything,” he growls.

Tension simmers between us, and for a moment, I want to forget about everything and kiss him again. But I can’t. “I have class.”

“So do I.”

“This isn’t your first day.”

He searches my eyes. “Fine. Go to class. We’ll continue this later.” His fingers brush my cheek once more before he steps back, creating space between us that feels both necessary and painful.

I exhale slowly. “Later,” I agree, though I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to. The promise hangs in the air, electric and inevitable.

CJ moves toward the door, his movements languid and confident, as if he has all the time in the world. At the threshold, he pauses, glancing back over his shoulder.

“One more thing, Isolde.” His eyes darken. “Don’t let the ghost see you naked. Some things should be for my eyes only.”

The door closes behind him with a soft click, and I collapse onto my bed, my legs finally giving out. My hand trembles as I touch my lips, still swollen from his kiss.

“Are you there?” I ask immediately, but there is no reply.

Sighing, I pick up my stuff and head out to class, hoping this will be uneventful, but I doubt it at this point.