Page 25 of Shadowed Spirits (Haunted Magic #2)

CHAPTER 25

IZZY

B ishop offers me his hand, and I take it. We walk in silence through the Nightshade mansion until we reach a secluded sitting room toward the back of the keep. The room has three walls of windows, letting the midmorning sunshine pour through. Dark wood floors, light blue walls, and a variety of natural oak chairs create an airy feel.

Pushing the door closed behind us, Bishop wanders over to the wall of windows opposite the door and shoves his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans. The sleeves of his charcoal long-sleeve tee are pushed up, revealing his defined forearms.

I shake my head at myself because now isn’t the time to be admiring his muscles. Walking up next to him, I stare at the forest outside the window, admiring the late October landscape. When the silence stretches on long enough to be uncomfortable, I ask, “So, what did you wanna talk about, St. James?”

He blows out a harsh breath. “I don’t know. I just…” He trails off as he glances over at me, his baby blues roving over my face. “I want you to know that everything I do is to keep you safe, Izzy. Even when you don’t like it, like when I don’t share all of myself, it’s to keep you safe.”

My eyes narrow on him. “What if I don’t want safety, and I just want you, all of you?” This conversation feels like I’m in a mirror dimension because I’m usually the one trying to stay away so everyone else will be safe. I get now why that’s kind of irritating, because Bishop matters to me a hell of a lot more than safety.

He shakes his head in denial. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

I throw my hands up in exasperation. “Then tell me, St. James. Or hell, even show me.” How does he expect me to know what I’m asking for if he won’t ever tell me? And this is Bishop, after all. I doubt there’s anything he could do to scare me.

He growls and advances on me, backing me up until I’m pressed against the window. He slaps his palms against the glass, caging me in, and leans in close. “I want to tie you up so that you’re completely at my mercy and not let you go, even when you beg me to. I want to fuck you so hard, you don’t know if you can take it. I want to push you past your limits, until you break, and your walls come down. I want to do that over and over and over until you don’t know where you end and I begin. I want every fucking thing from you, Isabel. Part of you will never be enough for me. The darkness in me demands that and won’t accept anything less, which is why I’ll never give in to it with you.”

I stare at Bishop with wide eyes. “And who says I don’t want that?” I croak, getting lost in the picture he so vividly painted for me. Arousal curls in my core and my nipples tighten at what Bishop wants from me. Maybe I should be scared that he wants to have me completely at his mercy and break me, but I’m not. It probably makes me just as fucked up as he says he is that it excites me instead.

He levels me with a glare. “I do.”

I narrow my eyes right back. “Why?”

“Because I know you’ve been hurt before!” he explodes.

I jerk back like I’ve been hit. “What?”

Regret flashes across his handsome face. “I know you’ve been hurt at school, Iz. I know at least one boy has tried to take what you weren’t willing to give. And I’d die before I’d ever make you feel like that. I know what I want is fucked up, and that’s why I keep it from you.”

All the color drains from my face. No wonder he doesn’t want me. He knows that I’m damaged goods. “Who told you? Levi?” My voice is barely more than a whisper, but he hears me just fine. The fact that he knows something happened with Mason, Richard, and Tyler is like a gut punch when I’ve tried so hard to keep it from him, partly to protect him. But partly because I’m embarrassed that I let myself be so weak.

Bishop’s expression gentles, and he strokes a thumb over my cheekbone. I jerk away from his tender touch, and he clenches his jaw. “No, sweetheart. It wasn’t him. I just put it all together the last time you stayed over.”

“Oh.” I feel myself start to shut down. My heart feels like it shatters in my chest, and it’s hard to breathe past the pain of him not wanting me. “I understand why you don’t want me.”

He rears back in surprise. “Who the fuck said anything about me not wanting you?”

“That’s why you don’t want to fuck me. I’m dirty and broken.” My words come out small as I tell him what I knew was true the first time Mason and Richard put their disgusting hands on me. Tears are tracking down my face, but I don’t have it in me to care, not when I feel so fractured and worthless.

Bishop’s eyes darken with fury as he fists my hair in one hand, forcing me to tilt my face up to his. He slams his lips down onto mine, and his tongue sweeps in to duel with mine. After a long minute of ravaging my mouth, Bishop pulls back, his chest heaving as he pins me with his intense stare. “Don’t you ever fucking say something like that about yourself again, Isabel.”

“It’s just the truth.” My voice is pitiful, even to my own ears, and I close my eyes to get away from all of it. From Bishop knowing, from how gross I feel, from all the memories trying to drown me.

“It’s not.” Bishop’s sharp words have my eyes snapping open. “Were you even listening to a goddamn word I said?”

I refuse to meet his gaze, not wanting to see revulsion in his eyes. “You said you wouldn’t fuck me the way you want because of what they did at school. Because you don’t want me now that you know.”

“Fucking hell, Isabel. That’s not what I said. I said I’m unwilling to hurt you further to satisfy my own twisted desires. There’s no way I would ever tie you up, take control from you, fuck you so hard it’s right on the edge of what you can handle, and push you past every limit you thought you had. Not when you’ve already been hurt by a piece of shit, who has a very short life expectancy once I find out who he is.”

“That’s why I won’t ever tell you. You’re not going to jail for me, St. James.” What’s left unsaid is that I’m not worth it.

He scoffs. “You seriously underestimate my ability to kill without being caught, which I’ve done too many times to count, if you think I’d go to jail for that.”

“That’s not even the point, St. James. The point is that I get why you don’t want me and won’t sleep with me now that you know I’m damaged goods.” I don’t blame him, not really. Sure, I wish things were different. I wish I’d been stronger or better to keep it all from happening in the first place.

He looks like he wants to shake me but settles for forking a rough hand through his hair in frustration. “What will it take to get this idea out of your head that’s so wrong it isn’t even funny? You need me to fuck you to prove to you how much I want you? How much I crave you?”

“I don’t want your pity fuck, St. James,” I grit out. “I don’t want a fuck with kid gloves on because you think I’m too weak and messed up to handle anything else.” I’d rather get my soul ripped out and sent to the Styx for all eternity than have a pity fuck from any of my mates.

He collars my throat with one hand, squeezing hard enough to limit my air momentarily. I’m pretty sure he’s doing it to scare me, so I stare at him unwaveringly. “So, you want me to fuck you like I hate you? You want me to risk hurting you to fulfill the fucked-up things I’m into? Because nothing about shoving my cock into you would have to do with pity, I can assure you of that.”

“I want you to want me, even though they touched me!” I scream at him while shoving at his chest, needing to get away from him and this. He doesn’t move an inch but lets me push him until I wear myself out. Giving up, I collapse back against the window. “I want you to treat me like I’m not broken. I want you to see me, not just all the ways I’m damaged. So, yes, I want you to fuck me the way you want, but I’m not whole enough for you to do that.” My voice breaks, and I close my eyes, not wanting to face the fact that he can’t see past what happened.

He growls and grips my chin, hard. Harder than he’s ever touched me. “Look at me, goddamn it.” I slowly open my eyes, unable to ignore his command, as much as I want to. “I want you more than the air I breathe or the blood pumping through my heart or anything else in this life or the next, Isabel. If fucking you the way I want is the only thing that’s going to make you believe that you aren’t damaged or dirty or unwanted, then I will. I’ll do anything for you, baby, even if it goes against my better judgment.”

Bishop doesn’t wait for me to respond. Instead, he lifts my arms and pulls my shirt off. He expertly unclasps my bra and lets it fall down my arms before spinning me around, so my face and breasts are pressed against the cool glass. The cold on my bare nipples causes me to jolt and try to pull back. Bishop flattens me back against the chilly surface as he steps up behind me, molding his warm front to my back.

“This is your chance, sweetheart, to back the hell out of this. Nothing about this is going to be gentle, and you deserve so much more for your first time.” When I don’t say anything, Bishop swears under his breath.

Then I hear him unbuckle his belt and slide it out of his pants. The anticipation of what he’s going to do and that anyone walking by could see has my heart beating hard and my breath coming in fast pants. He removes the hand from my back to pull both my arms behind me, bending my elbows at right angles and crossing one forearm over the other. He then loops the belt around my wrists a few times before securing it with a knot.

He tugs to make sure it’s secure. I try yanking my arms free, but he tied it too well. I don’t really want to think about where he got the practice tying knots like this, because him with anyone else makes me feel a little murdery.

When he steps back from me, I think he’s going to fuck me like this, where I can’t see him. For all my protesting that I’m not damaged, I begin to shake slightly, and my breath comes out in short pants as the memories try to flood me. I squeeze my eyes shut as I get flashes of other times I was pinned face down. Rough hands shoving me, sandpapery brick scraping my cheek, wandering hands pinching and bruising, warm tears dripping down my cheeks as I can’t free myself, too weak and powerless to make it all stop.

A sob gets trapped in my throat as Bishop spins me around to face him. I open my eyes, needing to see that it’s really him. I wilt in relief against the window and lean my head back on the cool glass as I try to stop trembling. He studies my expression, his jaw tightening at what he sees, but he doesn’t put a halt to everything. Instead, he drops to his knees in front of me.

“I clearly don’t have any self-control when it comes to you, but I need you to know that this all stops if you say so. There’s never any point at which I won’t stop if you tell me to. You’re the one in control of what happens, even if you’re tied up or impaled on my cock. Understand?” I nod, the lump in my throat keeping me from speaking. “I need your words.”

“Yes, I understand,” I answer. For someone who thinks he’ll hurt me, he’s very concerned with my well-being. While being tied up and half naked should scare me, it doesn’t, at least when I can see him, because it’s him. I trust Bishop and my other mates more than I’ve ever trusted anyone.

He gives me a sharp nod before his nimble fingers start undoing the button of my jeans. Making quick work of it, Bishop undoes my pants and slides them and my undies down my legs. I shiver whenever his calloused fingers graze my bare skin before he lets my pants pool at my feet. Bishop unties and removes my Converse, then my pants and panties, until I’m standing in front of him completely bare.

I feel exposed and want to cover myself, but Bishop is looking me over with feral hunger in his gaze. Standing there, I try to pretend I’m not nervous being so exposed, but I must not succeed when he finally tears his gaze away from my body to my face. He frowns at my expression, but there’s a hint of satisfaction there too. “Scared, sweetheart?”

I don’t know why I decide to be honest with him, but I do. “Yeah.” I’m scared because it’s unknown. I’m scared because Bishop is so convinced I can’t handle it. But mostly, I’m terrified that I won’t ever be enough for him or any of my other mates.

He nods. “Good. You should be.”

With that warning delivered, Bishop shoves my legs apart and buries his face between them. His skilled tongue has me coming in record time, but he doesn’t let up. He keeps licking and sucking, even when it becomes too much. I whimper but don’t tell him to stop, not wanting this to end. Before I know it, I’m coming on his face again, the pleasure causing my vision to white out as I feel like I’m soaring from the sensation.

I sag back against the window as I come down from my second climax. I can feel my arousal coating my thighs, and I would be embarrassed if I had the energy. As it is, I just stand there like a limp noodle while Bishop pushes to his feet and steps back from me. He unbuttons his jeans and pulls his dick out, but he doesn’t make any move to get undressed. I pout a little at that because the boy is ripped, and I wish I had more opportunity to look at his muscles.

His lips quirk up at the edges at my expression, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he lifts me up by my ass and presses me back against the window. I wrap my legs around him and have the urge to wind my arms around his neck, but they’re still tied behind me. I tug at the belt a few times, seeing if I can get loose, but eventually give up.

Bishop lines up his cock with my entrance, pushing in a little before pausing. “You should be wet enough to take me, but I won’t lie to you. It’s going to hurt at first, especially because you don’t want me to hold back. Tell me to be gentle, Iz. Better yet, tell me to fucking stop.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want gentle. All I want is you, St. James, which includes all of the things you want from me that you think are so messed up.”

He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against mine as he tries to gather himself. When he opens them, they’re burning with hunger. While holding my gaze, Bishop pushes inside of me in one smooth thrust. I cry out at the bite of pain, my back arching as I struggle to take him. I squeeze my eyes shut as I try to breathe through all the new sensations. He gives me only a second to adjust before he withdraws and plunges back into me. Bishop sets a punishing pace that I can barely keep up with. It’s on the edge of too much, but not quite there.

“Look at me while I fuck you,” he demands.

I manage to pry my lids apart to meet his gaze. The tendons in his neck are white, and his face is set in a mask of concentration as he mercilessly drives into me. With my hands tied, I can’t do anything more than take what he wants to give me, which is freeing, in a way. He’s in control, and I don’t have to worry about anything.

Bishop shifts so that he’s supporting me mostly with one arm. He brings his other hand around to play with my clit. I’m sensitive from already coming twice, so I hiss at the touch. It doesn’t take much, between his thrusting and him rubbing me, before I’m coming with a scream around him. The pleasure washes over me and does its best to drag me under, but I’m pulled back to the surface by him continuing to drive into me and circle my clit with his thumb.

“Bishop, please…” I trail off as I writhe from the overstimulation, using his first name for the first time in forever. It feels too impersonal to call him by his last name when his cock is in me.

He lets out a low chuckle. “Please what, sweetheart?”

“It’s too much.” I whimper as I thrash my head from side to side, overwhelmed by everything I’m feeling.

“It’s not too much. You can take it, Isabel. But if you really think you can’t, you know how to make it stop. Tell me to stop.” When I don’t, he growls and picks up his pace, punishing me for not doing what he said.

I don’t have a chance to tell him to stop, even if I wanted to, because the most intense climax of my life hits me like a thousand-ton freight train. Everything goes black around me as my system is overloaded with pleasure so intense it almost hurts. As my walls clamp down on Bishop, I feel him spilling into me with a groan.

When he comes, I feel his magic rise up. Mine eagerly answers the call, twining around his playfully. In the back of my mind, I know what’s happening, but no part of me wants to stop it. Instead, I just watch in my mind’s eye as our magics merge together, setting me off again. I let out a hoarse shout as I come another time, and I feel more of Bishop’s hot cum shoot inside me.

After I come down from the climax, I realize I feel more at peace than I ever have. A piece of my soul feels whole in a way it never has, and I’m pretty sure I know why.

I lazily blink my eyes open to meet Bishop’s similarly dazed baby blues. He gives me a small smile as he reaches behind me to untie my arms. Once they’re free, he carries me to a cozy-looking chair in the corner of the room. He sits down while still holding me and somehow still hard inside me. Bishop gently rubs my arms that are a little numb from being bound, but he doesn’t break the peaceful silence between us.

Figuring it needs to be addressed sooner rather than later, I’m the one to fracture the quiet. “So, we’re mated.”

Bishop’s jaw clenches and he looks away from me. The first stirrings of panic form in my chest at his reaction. When he doesn’t say anything, my breath comes in short pants as I realize that he regrets it. He never wanted to mate me.