Page 50 of Lustling

The house is cloaked in an unsettling quiet as I step inside, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Two pairs of glowing eyes pierce the dimness—Cassiel and Bastion, lounging in the living room with postures that feign ease but hide the coiled edge of predators. Their surprise at my early return lingers in the silence, and I let a slow, deliberate smile curl my lips.

“Miss me?”

Cassiel exhales sharply, his silver-blue eyes scanning me like I’m a puzzle he can’t quite solve. Bastion, more transparent, lets his gaze drag over me, a smirk twisting his mouth.

“You have fun out there, little Hellcat?” His voice is a lazy drawl, weighted with insinuation.

I saunter closer, hips swaying, power simmering beneath my skin like a secret set aflame. “I did,” I purr, stopping before Bastion. My finger trails a slow line down his chest, tracing the heat that still clings to him from whatever chaos he indulged in tonight. “But not as much fun as I could’ve had with you.”

His hand snaps up, capturing my wrist in a firm, possessive grip. Golden eyes gleam with dark amusement. “Careful,sweetheart,” he warns, voice dropping to a dangerous hush. “Play with fire, you get burned.”

I lean in, my breath ghosting over the curve of his ear. “I’m counting on it.”

My hand drifts lower as I pull back, fingers brushing over the swelling heat beneath his pants. He hardens instantly, a growl reverberating from his chest, but he doesn’t stop me. I give him a teasing squeeze, savor the tension in his restraint, then release him and turn my focus to Cassiel.

He’s on his feet, rigid, fists clenched at his sides. His storm-gray eyes flicker with a hunger he can’t quite bury.

I close the distance, lay my palm against his chest, and feel the rapid thud of his heart. “What’s wrong, Cassiel?” I murmur, lips curling. “Afraid of a little temptation?”

His jaw tightens. His eyes darken.

I press closer, breath feathering his mouth. “Or perhaps…” my lips graze his, “you’re afraid you’ll enjoy it too much.”

His restraint shatters. His hands seize my hips and slam me against him, his mouth crashing into mine. The kiss is brutal, a clash of tongues and teeth, all dominance and defiance. I tug his hair hard enough to draw a guttural groan from him, then bite his lip until blood blooms metallic on my tongue. I savor it, hungry for his unraveling.

When we break apart, our foreheads press together, both of us breathless.

“Temptress,” he rasps, his voice ragged with desire and frustration.

I smirk, step back, and leave him straining. “Wow,” I murmur with mock innocence, “I think I’ll go find Deimos.”

Cassiel stays rooted, chest heaving, and Bastion chuckles, reclining once more, his eyes glowing with wicked amusement.

“Nowthat,” he drawls, “I’d love to watch.”

The smirk I toss over my shoulder falters as I ascend the stairs. The bond tightens suddenly, a noose cinching around my throat, tugging hard, dragging my pulse into a frenzy.

Deimos.

His presence floods the air, heavy and unrelenting, a storm made flesh. But beneath it lingers something else. Something acrid.

The scent of sex hits me before I reach his door—thick, musky, suffocating. Lust saturates the air, so cloying it clings to my skin like oil. Anticipation knots with dread, twisting in my gut.

Jealousy strikes, sharp and unbidden. I could turn away. Pretend I didn’t notice. Pretend the bond isn’t strangling me.

But I don’t.

My hand trembles on the handle as I push the door open. And there he is.

Deimos.

Reclined on the bed, naked and unashamed, with a woman riding his cock and another lapping at his neck. His gaze lifts the moment I enter. His eyes find mine, and a smirk curls his lips—a smirk designed to wound, gleaming with deliberate cruelty.

He planned this. Wanted me to see.

Rage detonates inside me, molten and merciless. Shadows crawl across the room, my pupils splitting wide, the air itself warping under the weight of my fury.

He wanted a reaction. He’s about to get one.