Page 9

Lyric flung around and sat up, listening.

Her phone.

She gasped on the pain in her butt when she moved, looking around, making out her surroundings. Nidev’s bedroom.

Where was he?

Carefully, she made her way out, finding the kitchen and living room empty, phone still buzzing. She stooped down, hissing at the ache as she grabbed her phone. As she swiped and unlocked it, it rang.

She stared at the screen. Nidev?

She hit the button, fear putting her pulse in her throat. “Nidev?”

His sigh came first followed by her nickname encased in soft silk. “Doo-nie.”

She paused as panic hit her. “Are you okay?” she whispered, holding her breath when they threatened to shake or gush.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he murmured.

“Where are you?”

“Someplace where I can’t put my hands on you but I can smell you.”

She stood immobile, confused. “Why… can’t you put your hands on me?”

“Because I hurt you. Because your pain is like a drug I can’t resist. Because you need to heal.”

She couldn’t stop her smile. “I am very sore,” she confessed, making her way back to his bed.

“I imagine that’s an understatement.”

“It’s not as bad as I would’ve imagined.”

“I had blood on me.”

She stilled at hearing his tone, not quite recognizing what it meant.

“Probably… normal.”

“There’s nothing normal about my hunger with you, Doo-nie.”

His regret made her stomach churn. She eased her butt onto the bed and lay down. “Is it bad that I love it? Because I do.”

“Yes,” he informed softly. “It is bad. And it’s bad that I don’t care how bad it is.”

“Maybe it’s not as bad as you’re thinking. You were very careful with me,” she reminded. “I nearly fell asleep waiting.”

“Doo-nie,” he murmured, his hungry tone sending a thrill up her spine. “Your lying frequency turns me on too. But only when you lie to justify my sick appetite.”

“What if I’m lying to justify my sick appetite?”

She smiled when he gave a chuckle. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that before.”

“What?” he whispered.

“You just made a sound that resembled a laugh. It was a little pathetic but I’m counting it.”

“You’re the only human on this planet I would make such a pathetic sound for.”

She smiled, flipping onto her back. “Really,” she mumbled.

“Really.”

“I’m under your skin, am I?” she teased.

“Saturated. I’m trying to remember what sleep was like before you.”

She laughed at that. “Am I that much trouble?”

“You have no idea,” he assured.

“So you called me in the middle of the night because you missed me. While I’m sleeping in your bed.”

“And I’m in yours.”

She sucked in a breath then gasped a laugh. “You went to my apartment?”

“I needed you but couldn’t be with you. Your scent is everywhere here. Then I needed to hear your voice. It… does something to me.”

She lay on her side with the phone. “Well, my gift—”

“Not your gift,” he cut in softly. “Just your voice.”

Her heart hammered as she released a shaky breath. “You… like my voice?”

“I love your voice,” he said, his heat and conviction bringing a huge smile and tears.

“I didn’t know,” she confessed quietly.

“You remind me of something… that changed my life long ago.”

Her heart raced with wonder. “What is it?”

“It’s... kind of a story.”

She smiled more. “Well, I happen to have a moment. The man I’m obsessed with isn’t here at the moment.”

She held her breath, suddenly curious at the stretch of silence. Her smile slowly melted away at the way he drew in a deep breath.

“I have only one sibling,” he said softly. “A sister. Six years older than me. She was... my mother. My best friend.”

Lyric’s insides slowly tensed with the promise of something painful.

“When I was twelve, she… woke me up one night. Crying and hugging me. She had to leave because she’d fallen in love and our father would never accept him. He wasn’t… wealthy or powerful enough.”

Lyric sat up at hearing the tragic weight in his voice.

“When my father asked what I knew, I told him because… I really didn’t want to be without her.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Lyric barely whispered, her heart aching as she imagined a twelve-year-old version of him. Before the ink and pain of wars got a hold of him.

“My father found her. Offered the love of her life money to disappear.”

Lyric’s heart sped up.

“He took it.”

She gasped, not from the words but from the tragedy she heard in Nidev’s voice.

“As a child, I thought I had caused it. And I tried everything I could to fix it. But nothing I did brought that light back into her eyes. Then... she was arranged to marry into wealth after this. I was fourteen then. And this time, I helped her run away. This was my chance to do something selfless and change her future.”

She sat frozen, listening to him struggle to get through the memory.

“I was nineteen when I saw her again. In Vienna…” His thick voice caught on something that made her stomach twist. “She was… prostituting to… survive. To fucking eat,” he said so quietly she almost didn’t hear him.

His pain hooked into her chest until she couldn’t breathe. Lyric threw the covers off and hurried out of his apartment, his agony pulling her to him till she was half running.

“I was devastated,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “But it wasn’t until I attended the musical performance at the opera that I truly woke up. I watched a... performance about a woman who had been broken just like my sister. The lyrics were... a shattered confession... a beg disguised as a dream and when she sang it, the words bled into the air with a pain that couldn’t be healed.”

“Nidev,” Lyric gasped, her heart a burning rock in her chest.

“Life was ripped from her chest, Doo-nie,” he whispered. “Her soul was a shell of ashes scattered by the world’s cruelty.”

Lyric banged on her apartment door, breathless. “I’m here, I’m at the door, open up,” she gasped. “Right now,” she ordered, using her gift.

The second it opened, she threw herself on him, wrapping her arms around him tight, sobbing when he embraced her, his gasps hot on her ear. After many seconds, he whispered, “My father sold my sister’s heart and soul for two hundred dollars, Doo-nie. And that… bastard took it.”

****

Lyric’s heart jolted as she lunged for her phone on the bedside table and looked at it, fingers trembling as she fought with the screen lock.

Finally she opened the messages.

Nidev: I’ve left something for you in the bathroom.

Put it on. Wear it all day. Do not remove it, no matter what.

As you wear it, be aware of what it feels like—

how it presses against your skin, how it reminds you of me.

Let it connect you to me in every moment.

Her breaths shook out as the night’s events crashed into her body and heart. Where was he? How was he? He’d hugged her so tight for so long and then gave her a soul-shattering kiss that stole her heart and the strength in her body.

Of course it would take more than a single painful memory to move him, she of all people should know that. He wasn’t just a rock, he was a mountain of strength and power. But there were still so many questions she wanted to ask. What had become of his sister? His parents? He’d said it had woken him up—to what? And that she reminded him of something that changed his life. But never said what .

Normally she’d never pry into his life, but she was more than a student now. And what happened last night felt kind of huge. At least to her.

She remembered the assignment text and hurried to the bathroom, her sore butt reminding her of that other shocking thing he’d done with her. She couldn’t stop her smile at seeing a simple, sleek silver bracelet resting on the edge of her vanity.

She reached for it, her fingers trembling as she slid it over her wrist, tears filling her eyes. The metal was cool, almost icy against her skin. She felt the weight of it. The pressure. Marking it as her reminder of him, just as he said.

Maybe it was meant to be a collar. A chain. A claim. Whatever it was, she’d wear it happily. She wanted to give him exactly what he wanted. And the things he needed that maybe he wasn’t ready to need or admit that he did.

She was glad he was back to their lesson schedule. But she didn’t plan on losing the non-sexual things that happened between them. Would he pretend like it never happened? Play it down? Was he sorry he shared?

God, she hoped not. She wasn’t sorry. And really, she couldn’t wait to get done with all of their lessons so she could have the prize. All of him. All the time. With nothing standing between them but the profound bond growing.

****

Nidev felt her eyes devouring him as he finished his workout. He would never have done that in their public gym but since Skul was off playing savior in his swamp saga with Patches, Nidev agreed to stand in for his PE class. He’d almost reassigned somebody else till he learned Lyric was attending. And since the Kings rotated gym with the students, his own naughty motives remained camouflaged.

He wasn’t sure what got him off more—knowing how fucking aroused she was from his hours of cruel torment or her jealousy. He’d accidentally stumbled on a double orgasm as every female student giggled and gasped while raping him with their eyes.

When the class ended, Nidev ordered Lyric to stay behind, eager to discipline her for the blatant accusations in her eyes. It didn’t matter that she was a thousand percent right in his intentions to do exactly what it produced. More than he’d imagined.

“In the office,” he ordered her, turning for the showers.

“I have class.”

He paused without turning, relishing in her open defiance and what it meant. “Is that some cute language for Yes Sir, Mr. Nidev?” he asked, keeping his voice at ice cold.

She didn’t answer and he added it to her list of sins as he headed for the shower.

****

Nidev entered the office, catching the startled jolt in his obsession’s body. He shut the door then locked it, making his way over to her chair where she sat, her posture ramrod, eyes lowered.

Standing exactly before her, he leaned against the big desk. “Look at me,” he ordered softly, needing to see it. That fire, that craving to have everything he dangled before her.

The trouble she had with that one command brought a pulsing ache to his cock. When he finally got her locked into his gaze, he angled his head a little, devouring every drop of it.

“I felt you watching me,” he said.

Her lips had been pressed together up till that point. “I’m surprised you were able to detect them among the millions,” she said, voice quivering with fury.

Fuck.

He lowered the front of his black workout pants, getting her immediate gaze on his fully erect cock. “Let’s see if your mouth is as hot as your gaze.”

She swallowed, staring at it. Not moving.

He stroked himself slowly, circling the head with his fist, wetting it.

Her lips parted a little, eyes riveted.

“Every second you’re not sucking will cost you.”

Something broke free in her muscles, putting her on her knees before him in a storm of hunger. He grabbed her head in both hands when her gasps and moans brought his dick to the back of her throat.

“That’s it,” he shuddered, fingers fisting in her soft curls. “Suck your teacher’s cock.”

She worked him into her throat, her desperate little grunts turning his breath into fire.

“My nasty student is so greedy,” he shuddered, pulling her off him. “Remove my pants,” he ordered.

She shoved them down and he stepped out of them then placed his foot on the chair, grabbing a fistful of her hair. “Suck.”

He forced her to his balls, watching her lick and draw him into her mouth while her whimpers and moans unraveled him.

He seethed when her fingers stroked his ass, prodding and teasing, driving him to a delirious fucking edge. He forced her mouth back on his cock, bringing the throbbing crown to her throat with a string of filthy groans.

“Drink every fucking drop,” he swore, pumping rapidly into her frantic grunts till he came.

She was still swallowing when he yanked her up by her arms and sat her on the desk, his tongue in her moaning mouth, hand shoving her legs open. Feeling how wet her panties were filled him with a feral urge to tear into her. Threads ripped as he shredded them in two jerks, pressing one hand at the back of her ass and feeling her pussy with the other. “Dripping,” he accused on her mouth, sliding two fingers in and jerking her forward to meet the thrust.

He watched her face in the cruel rapture, fucking her cunt with ruthless jabs to the very edge of ecstasy. Then he withdrew and stuffed them in her mouth with a hot groan then kissed her, tasting what the fuck she did to him. “That’s all you get, filthy girl.”

****

By the time Lyric reached Nidev’s apartment that night, her nerves were drawn so tight, her body literally ached from it. Not just with sexual need, but the need to understand, the need to get things right, the need to know what his intentions were, especially outside of sex .

The man who’d opened up to her with painful secrets seemed gone. No, not gone, he was hiding. Behind… something. Everything. Why? That was the question.

Three knocks then three steadying breaths. Chin up.

He opened the door and she got hit with straight up sex appeal. No shirt, those loose black pants. No shoes. His expression was almost lazy but his gaze was sharper than ever as it took its time moving over her. It felt measured. Calculated. Even judgy .

He opened the door wider, silently creating space for her to enter.

She walked in and dropped the bag near the door as it shut.

The sound of the lock trembled in her blood and wrecked her breaths.

“Thirsty?” he asked softly as he passed her on his way to the kitchen. She stared at him from the backside, her entire body drooling for him.

“Water,” she forced, desperate for something to hold in her hands as she waited for what was coming tonight. The third lesson. The bracelet. Her original reason why he chose that lesson felt utterly wrong and stupid after what happened in the gym.

“Sit on the couch,” he said from the fridge, the order clenching her insides.

She wanted to answer him, but her mouth refused to budge as she made her way to it and sat.

He brought two bottles of water, setting one on the coffee table as he sat right next to her. She leaned for the bottle, and he stopped her with an arm, twisting the cap off the one he was holding and handing it to her. He got the second one and opened it, set the cap on the table and putting his arm on the back of the couch behind her, his sexy mouth sucking on his water.

He angled his head and caught her looking right at him. His eyes were like traps you couldn’t pull out of. She pressed her back into the couch when he leaned in and put his mouth right next to hers but didn’t kiss. Her pulse thundered in her throat as she waited, desperate to taste and feel him again. “Tell me why I picked this lesson.”

His warm breath sent electricity through her erratic pulse. Then her mind dumped a bucket of images from the gym —every eye having their fill of him—and she turned her face away.

The bold act cost her even if she didn’t know how in that second.

He returned to his space as she fought the panic clawing up her throat.

“You asked me to wear it just to…” She felt his eyes back on her, drilling, but the reckless jealousy refused to let her go.

“To what?” he softly pressed. No, warned. That was a clear warning because he knew somehow that she was about to say something…

“To feel stupid ,” she forced out. “And fake,” she added, her voice shaking.

“Wrong answer.”

She snapped her gaze at him, chest heaving. She held his stare until she felt herself crumbling beneath the power in it. “What happened to her?” she demanded. “What happened to your sister? What did you do, how did this… musical wake you up and change you? What about your mother and your father, what did they do, did you tell them?” She shot up from the couch when her emotions became a vortex in her chest and head, making it hard to breathe. “There’s so much I don’t know about you,” she realized, shaking her head, daring a glance at him. She came to a halt, her breaths catching at the hint of a smile . “What is so funny to you about this? You who…can’t be bothered with laughing and silly joy? Are you enjoying my pain in all this? Oh no, don’t hide it now,” she dared when he lowered his head.

“I’m not hiding it,” he assured, raising a full smile at her now.

“Is this a test?” she demanded, holding herself and pacing, watching him. “Is this part of your tests? Your tests that I don’t get, I don’t understand?”

“You will,” he assured.

A gasp flew from her, pausing her steps. “Oh, right, sure.” She returned to pacing and shaking. “And what if I decide I want to quit this? Whatever this is?”

Oh, that got him.

And the lethal look on his face got her.

But it also felt good not to be the only one in the room bothered or threatened.

She stiffened her spine and faced him. “So, tell me why you chose that test, I should at least know so I can understand.”

“I’ll tell you,” he said, his sudden cooperation turning her anger into suspicion.

“At what cost to me?” she asked, her tongue brakeless, her mind unhinged. When he stared at her like a puzzle he’d been dying to get his hands on, she went on digging her grave. “Maybe I’ll ask Skul to show me.”

He moved so quickly, her flight reflexes didn’t have time to kick in. One arm covered her chest, the other pinned her hand behind her, the pain just enough to scare her.

“My angel is being wicked ?”

The question was a full-blown accusation shoved into a boiling lust that melted everything—anger, fear, questions. There was only him, the feel of his strong arm pressed into her breasts, forcing her tightly against his chest.

The pinch of pain in her shoulder connected directly to her clit and had her gasping for all the wrong reasons.

“You have one choice here, Doo-nie,” he whispered thickly at her ear. “Strip out of your clothes and allow me to conduct my lesson. There is no walking out of here. There is no stopping this. There is no end. I made that clear to you.”

He captured her ear lobe with his lips and sucked, his breath a burning promise, making her dizzy. “What… if I don’t agree?”

“But you do,” he said or reminded, his mouth a spreading fire along her face. “And if I ever see you near Skul or any other King… I’ll fuck you so hard and ruin you so deep that even your shadow will bear the mark of my obsession.”

Her pulse slammed against her ribs as he spun her around.

“Tonight, you’ll learn what it means to be mine.” He guided her to the small table in the kitchen and kicked open the chair. “Undress or I’ll do it for you.”

His threat restored her common sense and she quickly did exactly as told. He then sat her roughly on the chair and gave her a bruising kiss before pulling back. “Move from that spot and this lesson will get even messier.”

The brutal tone was enough to hold an army down. A black blindfold whipped out from his pocket, and she gasped as he covered her eyes with it. “You will not see and understand, you will feel and understand. Hold the chair,” he ordered.

Her breaths shook as she obeyed, right as a soft band of something covered her chest and stomach then tightened until her back was forced against the back of the chair.

His hands gripped her face, and he kissed her, his mouth pressing on hers for many seconds, pulling up enough to taste her at every angle, his breaths hot and shaking like hers.

His fingers vanished then locked on her legs, sharply spreading them.

Whimpers edged her breaths as his finger stroked her open folds, his mouth covering hers again with a wicked growl that shook her. “You’re fucking dripping for this.” The accusation was so full of vehemence and victory, it put a thundering pulse right in her clit.

He tied her legs open next. “You’re mine ,” he murmured, his breath a hot drag over her ear. “I’m in your head. I’m in your body. And tonight, I’ll be in your skin.”

“What… are you doing?” she whispered.

“Today you wore a bracelet. Now, you’ll wear something that can’t be removed and will never fade.”

What did that mean? “Are you… cutting me?”

His hands were on her face, gentle. Then his lips, soft as silk on hers. “Cut you, Doo-nie,” he breathed, licking her lips. “Your skin is too perfect and precious for something so crude.”

“What is that?” she whispered, smelling rubbing alcohol.

“To prepare the site.”

She gasped at the cold sensation he rubbed over a small spot on the left side of her chest. “What are you doing?”

“Getting in your skin. Adorning you.”

“I don’t know what that means. Why are you using alcohol, why do you need it?”

“I told you. To prepare the site.”

“Is this going to hurt?”

“A little.”

Her breaths picked up. “How?”

His mouth was on hers, lips smiling. “Doo-nie,” he chided softly. “It’s just a tattoo.”

Confusion and panic mixed. “A… a what? I want to see. How are you doing that?”

“With a needle and ink. Ink that I made myself. With soot, animal fat and my blood.” He sounded proud. “The blindfold is for sensory amplification. It makes it more intimate,” he whispered at her ear now.

“H-how much will it hurt?”

“Only you can answer that. I’ll be as quick as I can. But you trust me,” he reminded.

Her mouth opened as she looked in the direction of his voice. “I…I do but… I’m still scared,” she gushed.

“I’m beginning.” His warm fingers touch down on her chest, firmly stretching the skin. “Big stick.”

Her body jolted. “Ouch!” she gasped. “That hurt! ”

He pressed a kiss on her cheek.

“What… tattoo are you putting?” she demanded. “How many… pokes will this be?”

“I’m putting my King’s crest. With my initial. Thirty-five pokes per crest.”

“Thirty-five per !” she gasped. “H-how big is that!?”

“Barely over an inch.”

She couldn’t close her mouth or slow her breaths. “You said per! What do you mean, per?”

“I’m giving you four,” he murmured. “Another poke.”

“Ow!” She gasped. “Four!”

“One crest for your mind, one for your heart, one for your body and one for your soul. Here comes a poke.”

“Fucker!” she snapped. “That was the same damn spot ! Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m sorry, angel.”

“Don’t kiss me,” she demanded, making him laugh more.

“It only feels like I’m poking you in the same spot.”

Dear God, she couldn’t believe he was doing this. “Why does it take thirty-five? How long will this take?”

“An hour for each. But don’t worry,” he said. “I have pleasure breaks planned.”

Her rebellious, needy body perked up and that was so damn offensive. “All for you? ”

“Mmm, no, Doo-nie. You’re the only one that orgasms tonight.”

“Ouch! Fucking warn me!”

“You said you barely knew me earlier.”

She looked toward him, wondering over the sound of metal tinking against glass while her craving to know him and need for a distraction teamed up.

“Ask me your questions and I will answer them. The pokes will come one every five seconds.”

His tenderness reached inside and loosened her fears.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, unnerving her. “I can’t get enough of your lips. Or any other part of you. A little poke,” he warned, making her jump at the hard sting.

“You may,” she whispered, shakily. “Then I have questions.”

His breath hit her mouth, and she parted for him, getting his soft lips pressing, followed by the passage of his hot tongue moving nastily along hers and stealing her breath. “After this crest, I’m going to suck your pussy.”

Her mouth opened wider with a gasp of hunger and shock.

“I know you’ve been thinking about it.”

He pulled away, leaving her quaking and bracing for the next stick. She seized up at the biting sting, holding her breath then releasing it. “Do you… want to tell me about your sister?” she asked, not wanting him to feel obligated.

“If you want to know, I do.”

She wished her blindfold was off so she could read his face. “I only want to know if you’re comfortable with telling me. It’s… not really my business.” She drew in another sharp gasp at the stinging poke on her chest.

“Everything I am is your business.”

Another needle-bite brought her hiss. “How many is that?”

“I lost count.”

She had to snort. “Since when do you lose track of anything?”

“Since you’ve entered my world and wrecked my focus.” A second later he murmured, “You like that.”

She smiled more. “I do. It’s only fair that I wreck your world as much as you wreck mine.”

His lips covered hers for several soft kisses then disappeared, leaving her winded. “My sister is at a sanitorium. Sisters of Mercy.”

Her breath caught. Then shot out with another needle prick. “Is that like… for nuns?” she wondered, mildly hopeful.

“For insane people. Run by nuns.”

She jumped at the next poke, her stomach a vat of acid at hearing that. “But… why?” she asked, quietly.

“Because she got pregnant while whoring. And when they took the baby, they took what was left of her soul and her mind followed.”

His words stunned and hurt her so badly she barely felt the needle’s bite. She swallowed, her words a jumble in her head as tears burned her eyes. “Do I have to be blindfolded?” she asked quietly. “It would be easier knowing when you’re going to poke me.”

He gave her another soft kiss.

“I promise not to look,” she whispered as he took her apart with his gentle mouth. “Please.”

He made a hungry sound in his throat, reminding her he liked when she begged. The why of it came, along with the why he’d just told her that about his sister with no evidence of the emotion he had the night before.

He suddenly eased the blindfold off her and she blinked at him. His gaze locked on hers and he slid his thumb under her eye. “Did I hurt you, Doo-nie?” he asked softly.

For some reason his tenderness did. “No, I…” Lord he was kissing her again.

“What?” he murmured on her mouth.

“Just… I can’t… it’s your sister.”

His fingers carefully tugged her face toward him, kissing her deeper and scattering the mess inside her. “We will do this in phases,” he announced. “But you can’t look till I say.”

“Okay. But what…in phases?”

“My marks in your flesh. The one over your heart will be the first.” He angled his head while kissing her perfectly. “When I was old enough, I got my sister out of that place and brought her to my home in Florance Italy. I hired full time nurses to care for her, certain I could mend some of the damage.”

“Can you… untie me?” she whispered. “I really need to touch you.”

He pulled back, leaving her quaking and drowning. “Not yet,” he announced with no regret, picking up a needle with a wooden handle on the end of it. He wiped the tip and dipped it in the small glass dish of ink. “Fifteen more minutes.”

She resisted the urge to look down at her chest where his fingers stretched the tender, inflamed skin. She studied his perfect face, focused on the job. The prick of the needle barely made her flinch that time. “And did you?” she asked, needing to know. “Did you mend some of the damage?”

He turned and dipped the needle again. “No,” he said, his tone void of any emotion. “Did you know your voice produces a peculiar frequency when you express physical pain?”

He brought the needle back to her chest as her heart raced and ached for him. “I… was told that,” she murmured, clenching when he poked.

“Who told you this?” he casually wondered, dipping the tip again. But it was there, in the back of his tone. His obsession.

“My teacher of course,” she said, her hunger for his obsession bringing a curling heat in her womb. It mixed with her need to climb inside him and learn every dark, painful secret so she could try with all her power to heal it if she could.

“Lore,” he muttered, sounding disgusted as he poked more ink into her skin. “I think it’s time you’ve graduated from that prick’s class, don’t you?” He tapped his needle in the ink and returned to her chest.

Her smile vanished when she realized he wasn’t joking. “Then… who will teach me?”

His eyes rose and locked on hers. God, they were so much more breathtaking up close. “Is that a proposal I hear behind that question, Doo-nie?”

Her smile came and his gaze lowered to it, making her realize it was another serious question. “Yes,” she said, not needing to think about that.

He returned to her chest, stretching her skin and making his poke. “I suppose I can fit you in for private lessons.”

Her heart galloped at that news, not even caring if he knew how to teach her. She remembered what he said about the frequency, wondering. “How does… that pain frequency affect you?”

“In a very unhealthy way,” he murmured, pressing the needle into her skin.

She gasped, the pulse between her legs getting harder to ignore. “You… like it?”

“Like,” he repeated, as if the term was severely lacking.

Then she realized what he meant. “So… unhealthy for me?”

“Definitely not you, Doo-nie,” he muttered, like he was growing impatient with her.

She scoffed lightly. “Are you angry I can’t read your mind about everything you say?”

“Yes,” he said, tone firm, like it was something she was fully capable of doing and was intentionally not.

“Well, I can’t read minds,” she defended in a gaspy sputter, while realizing what he meant now. He liked the sound of her pain but would never cause it for his own pleasure. But… “How exactly do you like it?”

This got his intense gaze on her mouth followed by a soft kiss. He pulled back and stared at her. “How do you think I like it?”

The question was genuine and testing. She fought to hold his stare, hold her courage under the weight of the answer. “Like…a perv?”

His smile was devastating and stole her breath. Then his kiss finished her off. “Not a perv, Doo-nie. A psychopath.”

She let out embarrassing sounds that amounted to gibber-gasms. “Well, I’m flattered.”

He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her in for a very nasty kiss. “You’re so much more than flattered, Doo-nie.” She gasped right in his mouth as his finger gently slid inside her pussy. “You fucking love it. Say it.”

She said it with desperate moans of hunger and eager flicks of her hips.

He plunged in deep, smashing his fist against her body. “Say it.”

“I love it,” she confessed, getting another very nasty kiss and one of his pained groans. “Don’t stop,” she begged weakly, her head falling back as she reached for more.

His hand slid out and tore a ragged breath from her as her eyes slitted open in time to see him suck her from his fingers.

He went back to his needle work, every stab of pain somehow less than the previous, even though the area was on fire from repeated sticks. Her mind locked onto the unspoken things, the unanswered questions. She still had a million but was scared to ask. It felt like Russian roulette. One of her questions would splatter his soul all over the wall and she was terrified of that, of hurting him. No, of hurting him and not being able to save him.

He’d dealt with all of it, obviously, and no doubt had taken great pains to come to terms with it but… she still needed to know things that mattered, things that defined him. “Is she still there at your home in Italy? Being cared for?”

“Yes,” he murmured.

Something caught in her. A sound. It was the first hint of emotion he’d shown. Frustration maybe. Or something close to it. “Do you… see her?” she gently pried.

“Not for a while.” He tapped the needle. “But I need to.”

She heard it again. A quiet desperation. Then she wondered why he didn’t bring her there? So much space, so many people who could help care for her. Help mend her. They even had a swamp full of nuns. Surely, he’d thought of it and there was a reason why. Was it the same problem as with her brother? The risk of travel?

No… that was a recent development.

Maybe he’d given up. Maybe it was too painful to have her close only to watch that nothing he did helped. But he still blamed himself for all of it even while knowing he was too young to have known better.

She understood that kind of senseless agony. It wasn’t really about fault, it was just about the pain and needing something to counter it, something that didn’t hurt others. A self-inflicted punishment for the tragedy the crime had caused.

If he couldn’t free her, then he’d at least suffer with her.

“Why don’t you bring her here?” she forced out, keeping her voice calm. “I would like to help you care for her. Maybe I can revive her with my famous nag frequency. I’ve been told I can drive out demons with it, because hell is less tormenting.”

She kept him in her peripheral sights, watching him work like she hadn’t said a word. But she knew he heard every syllable and was processing it. How he was taking it was the terrifying question. “Maybe we can fetch my brother and your sister all on one go. Then renovate one of those… cute swamp shacks I’ve seen and live there as a family.”

His fingers bit on her jaw and jerked her to his mouth, his tongue a punishing lash on hers. He stood and the bind on her body suddenly loosened, and he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his room. She eyed his bed, her heart a wild hammer in her ribs as he laid her in it then turned her by her legs to face him. His hands went behind her knees and opened her wide, his gaze fixed on her privates.

“Keep them open,” he ordered on a single breath as he lowered his mouth and launched a ruthless pleasure war with the dirtiest open mouth French-kiss right on her clit.

“Oh, God, yes,” she gasped, holding herself open, legs already trembling.

He slipped a finger inside her and flicked his tongue over the aching tip in a maddening flutter that filled her with little electrical heat waves. When his finger reached bottom with a punishing jab and nasty grunt, she flew right apart.

He growled and dove on her clit, sucking it into his mouth as she grabbed hold of his head, nails digging, hips writhing while his finger twisted and curled in her, fueling every shudder till her eyes rolled in her head.

Her gasps eventually reached her own ears along with his satisfied, wicked moans. He was back to French-kissing her pussy, licking up every drop of the ecstasy with a devious pace. “My angel,” he marveled on her softly. “You were a shooting star. Fiercely brilliant and dying out before your time.”

“It was perfect,” she whispered with a smile, wondering what was next as she stroked his scalp with her fingers. “Would you like to be a shooting star now?”

“Mmm,” he said, the sound of a smile as he kissed her inner thighs. “Only my Doo-nie tonight.” He nibbled the sensitive skin. “This is where your next tattoo goes. It represents soul.” His pretty gaze met hers. “My crest will guard the doorway where divinity and humanity bind as one.”

Her jaw dropped with the clench of her heart. “That’s so romantic,” she whispered, watching him lavish the spot with his tongue. “And sounds painful,” she added as he drew her flesh between his lips and sucked till it pinched. “Ou-ee,” she complained softly, watching his pretty mouth spread in a grin, his eyes turning to her.

“Ou-ee.” He stood and she watched his seductive grin descend to her mouth, fingers biting on her jaw. “You just nibbled the head of my cock with that frequency.”

“I… seem to have hidden frequencies with you.” She chased his tongue with hers when he got serious with his kiss.

“I’ll find them all,” he swore, scooping her back up and carrying her to the kitchen for her next marking.

Mmm. She was sure he would find them all. And create some from scratch.