Page 58 of Fractured Devotion (Tainted Souls #1)

Morning sun presses against the motel blinds, casting pale stripes across the worn carpet. The air smells faintly of dust and faded cigarette smoke. I sit on the edge of the small, battered table, watching the purge countdown tick away on the terminal we brought from the clinic.

Forty-eight minutes left.

We didn’t have the luxury of staying behind. Kade and I slipped out the back exit the moment the purge began its sweep—silent, fast, and untraceable. No fanfare. No lingering looks.

We walked like strangers, our faces hidden beneath thin, borrowed hoods, grabbed from a vending machine outside a laundromat along the way. They’re cheap, forgettable fabric, but enough to blur us in passing.

The city thinned around us as we moved, the buildings giving way to emptier streets, until the outskirts finally welcomed us with their subtle neglect.

That’s where we found the motel, tucked between shuttered shops and cracked asphalt, the kind of place that doesn’t ask questions and only takes cash.

Now, inside the dim room, I don’t take my eyes off the screen.

Kade stands by the window, watching the street below with that same unnerving stillness he always carries right before everything shatters.

“They’ll be scrambling by now,” he mutters.

I sit on the edge of the bed with my legs tucked beneath me, my fingers hovering near the keyboard. “Good,” I reply, calm and steady.

His gaze slices toward me, something wicked flickering in his eyes—a dangerous, measured calm. He turns and crosses the room at a measured pace, each step deliberate, his boots heavy against the old floorboards.

“You dragged me into this fire with you,” he says, his voice soft but edged with something darker and sharper.

I finally look up, meeting his stare head-on. “You jumped willingly,” I murmur.

He gives a low, rough laugh. “No. I fucking ran.”

He paces once before stopping behind me. His hands settle on my shoulders, strong and grounding. “You know they’ll never forgive this,” he says, his voice close to my ear.

“I didn’t ask for forgiveness,” I reply.

He huffs a breath, his lips barely brushing my skin. “And after this?”

I tilt my head just enough to glance back at him.

“We follow through on our plans, the Meridian networks,” I say simply.

His hands tighten, his fingers digging in with subtle pressure.

“You’ve already set yourself on fire,” Kade murmurs, his voice a faint rumble that vibrates against my skin, his eyes dark with a hunger that mirrors my own.

“Then watch me burn brighter,” I whisper back, my lips curling into a defiant smirk.

The clock ticks down. Thirty-three minutes glow on the screen, sharp and unforgiving, counting the moments until the purge wipes their empire clean. The air hums with anticipation, thick with the weight of ruin and desire.

Kade leans in, his breath a soft threat against my throat, warm and teasing. “You’re fucking beautiful like this,” he rasps, his voice fraying with need.

I smirk, unbothered, my pulse steady despite the fire licking through my veins. “Keep watching,” I command, my tone laced with challenge.

And he does. His gaze is a brand, focusing on the computer as the timer drops to thirty minutes. The purge is nearing completion, and the adrenaline surges beneath my skin, a wild current that sharpens every sense.

He doesn’t say anything. He just lowers himself beside me on the bed. I shift slightly to make space, the mattress dipping under his weight. Our shoulders touch—close, steady, and unspoken—but neither of us moves away.

“Thirty minutes left,” he muses, glancing at the screen, his voice dark and threaded through with something sharp and certain.

“Enough time to dismantle a kingdom,” I reply, my eyes glinting with the thrill of destruction.

His smile is wicked, predatory. “You really are a queen of ruin,” he says, and the words sink into me like a caress.

I don’t deny it. The air thickens, not with fear, but with something heavier—the knowledge that everything they built will crumble, and we’ll stand untouched, unyielding. Kade’s fingers brush my thigh with intent, the touch unhurried, sparking heat that pools deep in my belly.

“What happens when there’s nothing left to burn?” he asks, his voice a subtle growl, his hand lingering and possessive.

I turn to face him fully, my gaze sharp and cutting. “We find something else,” I say, my words a vow.

He laughs softly, leaning back, his eyes never leaving mine. “I always knew you’d be the one to end me,” he murmurs, his tone half-reverent, half-damned.

“You’re still here,” I remind him, my voice steady and teasing.

His smile darkens. “For now.”

Twenty-seven minutes. The room crackles with charged silence, the timer’s glow casting shadows across Kade’s face.

I rise from the bed, my movements casual and measured, each step a claim.

Kade watches, his eyes heavy with anticipation, his breath hitching as I stop between his legs, standing over him like a goddess of chaos.

“You’re not going to wait until it finishes,” he says, amusement threading through his hunger.

“We’ve waited long enough,” I reply, my voice a soft purr. His hands slide up my thighs, gripping firmly, his fingers digging into my skin and leaving a trail of heat that makes my cunt pulse.

“You’re dangerous,” he whispers, his eyes locked on mine, his pupils blown wide.

I lean down, my lips brushing his, so close that I can taste his breath. “And you love it,” I breathe, my words a taunt, a truth.

His lips crash into mine, a kiss that tastes of smoke and sin, hungry and unyielding. We fall back onto the creaking bed, our bodies colliding, the mattress dipping beneath our weight. Hunger ignites, not rushed but brimming with dark intent, a fire that knows its destination.

Clothes are peeled away with intent urgency—his shirt torn open, my pants yanked down, fabric pooling on the floor. His skin is hot under my hands, taut with muscle and marked by scars I’ve memorized.

I climb onto him, straddling his hips, my thighs clenching tight around him.

I grip his wrists, shoving them above his head, pinning them to the bed with the sash from the hotel bathrobe, and knotting it with practiced precision.

The fabric bites into his skin, a sensual restraint that makes him shudder.

“Don’t even twitch,” I command, my voice sharp and laced with heat.

His breath catches, his pupils dilating, his gaze locked on me like I’m the only thing left in the universe. “Yes, Celeste,” he groans, his voice already fraying and raw with submission.

I take my time, savoring the power, leaning down to trail my tongue along his throat, tasting the salt of his skin, and feeling his pulse thrum wildly beneath it. My teeth nip, leaving faint marks, then drag lower, across his chest.

I circle his nipples with my tongue, biting lightly and making him flinch and gasp, his body arching beneath me. I tease one nipple, then the other, sucking until he’s shivering, his cock straining against my thigh, hard and leaking.

My fingers trail lower, smooth and cruel, grazing over his cock, thick and throbbing.

I wrap my hand around him, squeezing just enough to make him curse, then stroke him with agonizing precision, pumping until he’s bucking helplessly, pre-cum slicking my palm.

“You’re going to lose it,” I taunt, watching his hips jerk, his restraint crumbling.

I lean down, pressing a kiss to the head of his cock, soft and lingering, tasting the salt of him as he groans deep in his throat. My tongue flicks out, teasing the slit, and he whimpers, the sound raw and desperate. I pull away, leaving him trembling and denied.

Rising, I position myself over him, teasing him with the slick heat of my cunt and rubbing against his cock without taking him in. His breath is harsh and ragged, his body taut with need. “Please,” he rasps, trembling beneath me.

I smirk, savoring his desperation, the power thrumming through me.

Finally, I sink down onto him in one slow, intentional motion, taking every inch with punishing control.

His eyes roll back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as my pussy grips him, hot and tight.

I hold his wrists tighter, grinding my hips in a steady, relentless rhythm, each movement designed to push him to the edge.

“You’re mine,” I whisper, leaning down to bite his shoulder hard enough to bruise.

“Always,” he gasps, his voice breaking.

My gaze flicks to the countdown timer, instinct pulling me to the glowing numbers. Twenty minutes left, sharp against the screen’s glow, even as our bodies remain tangled and slick with sweat.

I don’t release his wrists, my grip unyielding as I ride him, my hips grinding harder, coaxing raw, guttural moans from us both. His body arches into mine, every desperate thrust dragging us closer to oblivion.

“Still think you can outlast me?” I taunt, my teeth grazing his jaw and nipping sharply.

He laughs, ragged and hoarse. “You already own me,” he breathes, his voice wrecked.

I bite his lip, hard enough to draw a hiss, tasting the faint tang of copper. “Good.”

My hips slam down with brutal precision, every stroke deep and ruthless, the slick slap of skin against skin drowning out the world. I rake my nails down his chest, marking him and claiming him, his groans of my name faint and broken. “Harder,” he begs, his voice rough and desperate.

I oblige, grinding in tight circles, my pussy clenching around him and making him shudder and curse. I lean down, licking the sweat from his throat and biting hard enough to leave bruises that will linger for days. His hands claw at the sheets, his body writhing and helpless beneath me.

I feel him throb inside me, his cock pulsing, ready to snap. “Don’t you dare come yet,” I snarl, my voice a dark purr against his ear, my nails digging into his wrists.

“Celeste—fuck—” he gasps, every muscle straining to obey, his face contorted with restraint.

I ride him relentlessly, punishing, until my own climax builds, a tidal wave I can’t hold back.

Thirteen minutes glow on the screen, but it’s distant, irrelevant.

I let go, clenching around him as I come hard, my orgasm ripping through me with a fierce cry.

The force of it pulls him with me, and he cries out, shuddering violently as he spills inside me, his cock jerking in thick, desperate pulses.

We slam into each other, raw and unrelenting, our release tearing through us in waves.

When the last shudder passes, we sink down together—not soft, not tender, but savage and necessary. Our bodies are slick and breathless on the creaking bed. The timer ticks on, but for now, it’s only us, tangled in the wreckage of our desire.

Two minutes remain.

But we’re not done.

We never will be.