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A merciless smile ghosted his sculpted lips. “More what, little flower? More of this?”

The crack of his palm against my rear split the night, pain blossoming into liquid fire that left me gasping for the next strike. Next fix. The next wave of pleasure.

Pain got me off. It always had, though I’d never confessed it, least of all to Mom. Her horror would have been unbearable. The sting of flesh somehow eased the deeper ache that haunted me—that eternal, nameless loss carved into my marrow.

“Do you think I’m twisted? Like something…broken?”I whispered, my face closed off.

His fingers stilled. For a breathless moment, I feared I’d broken the spell that bound us. Then his eyes met mine, icy green, reflecting the same torment I felt.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,”he said, voice rough.“I understand better than you think. If you need a monster to blame, here I am. I’m the one who craves your pain.”

Maybe I’d gone too long without human touch, without connection. Maybe now, only the sharpest edges could make me feel anything at all.

He gathered me against him as if I was precious to him. His mouth traveled down my throat, teeth sharpening mid-kiss.

Then—

Piercing pain bloomed where his fangs breached skin, piercing the sensitive junction between my neck and shoulder. My gasp morphed into a moan as pleasure lanced my wanton body.

“I taste both your agony and your ecstasy,” he murmured against the bite mark. “They belong to me now, little flower.”

His fingers closed around my nipple, not caressingbut claiming. A sting flared through my breast, firing the nerves within. Pain rushed through me, unleashing a delicious feeling that made my back arch. I pressed myself further into his merciless touch.

“You bloom so beautifully in agony, little flower,” he murmured, his voice rough with hunger. His other hand slid between my thighs.

“More,” I begged.

His fingers glided through my slick heat, circling but not entering. “Is this what you truly want?”

My body screamedyes, thighs trembling, yet my lips stayed sealed.

“Drenched for me,” he growled, tracing my entrance with maddening lightness. “But your virgin body is not ready.” His thumb pressed against my sensitive peak instead. “You’ll give it to me willingly or not at all.”

“How…how do you know I’m a virgin?” I breathed out in a haze of lust.

“You have to ask, little flower?” His gaze hid centuries of secrets and pain and longing that I couldn’t begin to fathom.

An ice-cold realization cleaved through the heat. Had the others been virgins too?Their faces—my face across time—flashed behind my eyelids. My chest constricted, my lungs seized, but not from asthma.

Lure. Seduce. Destroy.

Was I his mark, his new obsession?

I was exactly where he wanted me to be.

Every reassurance from his lips rang hollow. Something in me was broken—broken enough to crave the very danger that might end me.

“What are you thinking, little flower?”His hand twisted into my wild hair.“Tell me those intriguing thoughts spinning behind your eyes.”

“Nothing.”I pressed my lips together.

“Liar.”He yanked my hair hard enough to wrench a gasp from me.“Give me your truth, if nothing else.”

My whisper shook: “You’ll be the death of me.”

His laugh was dark and silky.“You’re just realizing that now?”

The evening had taken a dark turn, yet I still couldn’t bring myself to leave, not when his fingers worked into my tight passage, not deep, but enough to make me shudder.

Pain and pleasure entwined.

“You want more of this, don’t you?”he purred.“Soon, you’ll beg for it.”

“I won’t beg.”My voice shivered.“You’ll give it to me. And you’ll sayplease.”

He chuckled as he pushed his fingers deep into my wet heat. His other hand came down hard across my rear. My back arched, a moan rising deep in my throat.

“I need to taste you.”His voice was rough as he withdrew his fingers, turning me away from him.

Before us, a stone table emerged from the ground, its surface strewn with furs, just like last time.

“Bend over it.”

I obeyed, bracing my hands against the cool stone. The rasp of his zipper sent a shiver through me. I glanced back over my shoulder and gasped.

He had his cock out, silky, golden-brown, massive, and hard as granite.

“You said you wouldn’t…”I whimpered, the protest dying on my lips.

I didn’t finish my sentence. Couldn’t make up my mind. I was worried on multiple levels, but my body yearned for him, desperately wanting his cock in me. I couldn’t fight this, like it was fate.

“Just a taste, baby,”he growled, his voice rough with restraint.“I won’t go more than two inches into you. Your maidenhood stays intact. For now.”

“But what if you lose control?”I demanded.

He laughed lowly. “I’ve had enough practice.”

Practice with whom?

A jet of jealousy surged through me, sharp enough that I nearly twisted around to knee him in the balls, but I stayed rooted in place, leaving only my glare to carry my fury. The single mercy sparing him was this: whoever came before me belonged to a past I had no claim over.

He pushed my cloak and nightgown up to my waist. My fists clenched the fabric, preventing him from exposing the scars higher up. Cold air kissed my bared skin, then his mouth replaced it, searing where no one else had touched me.

When his mouth left me, he rose behind me to his full height. His palm pressed between my shoulder blades, pinning me in place. His other hand held the heavy length of his cock. I stopped breathing as I felt the crown of his cock, hard and burning, nudging at my entrance.

He didn’t thrust in right away. He rubbed the head hard along the plumpness of my lips just to tease, making me shiver, making me wiggle my ass in silent begging. Then he glided in only an inch, slow and purposeful.

The intrusion burned sweetly, not deep enough to tear, but enough to send shockwaves of pleasure rippling through every nerve. I bit my lip until I tasted the salty tang of blood, torn between pushing away and begging for more.

He withdrew half an inch, then thrust back in about two inches.

The sensation was overwhelming. My lust burned hotter. I needed more, achedfor it, but his controlled movements suggested a purpose beyond mere physical gratification.

When I glanced back, his gaze locked onto mine. Dark, primal need smoldered in his eyes, his features taut with the strain of holding back.

“Give me more,”I begged, pressing against him.“Please.”My hips rolled instinctively, ready to push back and take at least half of him, to feel that exquisite stretch, even if he wouldn’t give me everything.

Virginity be damned. I’d crossed too many lines to turn back now. If death came at twenty, I wouldn’t meet it untouched, not when pleasure coiled hot in my veins, scattering reason like autumn leaves before a storm.

“Not today, baby,” he said as he thrust in me, slow at first, then fast and hard, though not beyond two inches deep. “When you’re ready, I’ll give you everything. Then you’ll truly know pleasure and pain. And you’ll forever be addicted to my cock.”

Even this shallow penetration, this delicious friction, was maddening.

He groaned raggedly behind me. “It kills me not to fuck you properly, not to fill you completely.” He clenched his teeth. “But today, this is all you get. I’ll ruin you for anyone else soon enough.”

He thrust faster but never crossed that two-inch boundary. If just this much had me teetering on the edge, what would his full length do to me?

My skin began to tingle. Heat radiated in me. Then I felt it—power stirring deep in my core.

“Let it rise, little flower,” Nero commanded, his thrusts becoming more deliberate. “Don’t fight it.”

My fingers dug into the furs as the world dissolved into streaks of color. I cried out, pain and pleasure colliding in a blinding burst. Nero fucked me harder, energy crackling beneath my skin and sparking through my veins.

“Come for me!” he commanded, driving me toward oblivion. His fingers pinched my quivering button. “Come on my cock, baby!”

Pleasure crested in relentless waves. I erupted on his cock. And then I was falling, coming apart with a cry. Nero caught me, his arms my only tether as the world shattered into brilliance.

Reality fractured. Light burst from me like a song, arcing from my fingertips. The air around us shimmered with prismatic energy. Fallen leaves, twigs, even droplets of dew rose and twirled. Wind, water, fire, earth—all the elements answered my climax.

Threads of raw energy wove themselves into ancient symbols, oddly familiar though I’d never learned them.

This wasn’t just pleasure.

This was revelation.

The magic didn’t tear through me; it uncoiled like a sigh after centuries of waiting. As if a deep part of me had always known this forever song, and my body was just now remembering how to sing it.

For those fleeting, precious moments, I wasn’t just Bloom, the frightened student investigating murders. I was primordial. A force woven into the fabric of creation itself.

More than an immortal.

Was it a delusion of grandeur as I was caught in the moment? But it tasted like truth.

“What’s this?” I whispered in awe.

Nero stayed sheathed inside me, his body taut as a drawn bow against my back. His arm locked around my waist like a man clinging to a crumbling cliffside.

“You’re more than a Weaver.”His words brushed my ear.“Sexual energy unlocks what’s buried in you. Until one day you’re powerful enough.”

The unspokenthen hung between us. When I twisted to face him, his eyes held secrets deeper than the gathering dark. My mind, still hazy with pleasure and the afterglow of magic, struggled to grasp at meanings that slipped like mist throughmy fingers.

Powerful enough for what?

The question sliced through my haze, bringing icy clarity. If he were the killer, shouldn’t he want me weak? Unless…

Unless the others had failed to become whatever he needed.

New magic simmered under my skin—not just wind, but fire’s kiss and water’s caress. And something that smelled of tomb dust and whispered of death.

My bones trembled.

“Show me more,” I demanded.

His smile was equal parts pride and predator.

“Elements are child’s play,” he said, fingers grazing my cheek with surprising tenderness.

“Earth, fire—these are just names mortals give to fragments of creation. True power is not about controlling elements but reshaping reality. And you, little flower, are the first and last Reality Weaver.”

First and last. What did he mean? How did he know?

His kiss stole my questions—hard, as his hips began their merciless rhythm anew. With every thrust, each wave of pleasure brought a revelation of my magic, now irreversibly part of me.

“Never show this,” he growled against my mouth, teeth sharpening on each word, “to anyone.”