Page 6 of Unholy Bond (The Corruption of Evelyn Adams #2)
It didn’t take long before the novelty wore off and the old restlessness came back.
I drew my knees up, hugging them against my breasts, and stared down at dark liquid.
The water was opaque after the first inch.
I couldn’t see my toes. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine what this would be like if Levi were here.
He’d cannonball in and splash me until I screamed, then cradle me after with arms so big I could lose myself.
Or Aziz, who’d tease me for being shy and then drag me under until we both choked on each other.
Or Ian, who’d tell me I was wasting time, that pleasure was a weapon, and I should wield it with intent.
I spread my legs and slid a hand down between my thighs.
The sensation was muted at first, more pressure than pleasure, but I persisted, searching for the right rhythm.
I thought of Aziz, the heat of his mouth, the roughness of his hands, and I moved faster.
A slow burn crept up from my belly, warming places the bath had left cold.
Then, out of nowhere, I sensed movement beneath the water. Not mine. Something brushed the inside of my thigh, cool and electric, and I froze.
I looked down, expecting to see some kind of parasite or snake.
Nothing. The water rippled, but there was no sign of anything living in it.
I waited. Another brush, firmer, gliding up my leg, then curling back down and around the calf.
My heart jerked, and I half-stood, ready to leap out, but the sensation just as quickly disappeared.
My body shuddered. It was not fear. Not exactly.
My curiosity and desire to know pushed aside every other worry.
I slid down again, this time bracing my feet against the marble and holding myself still.
I cupped my breasts, pinched my nipples, and the feeling returned: a pressure, not quite touch, but definitely not nothing.
The sensation wound up my thigh, then between them, then pressed hard against the lips of my sex.
I gasped, hips rolling upward in reflex.
A tendril. That was the word my mind supplied.
Not a finger, not a tongue, but a tendril of something thicker and smarter than water.
I reached down, searching for it, but my own hand only found slick skin.
The invisible pressure pulsed again, stroking up my slit, then pushing in, slowly at first, then deeper, coiling as it went.
I bit my lower lip, fighting the urge to moan, but the sound came anyway, uncoiling from deep in my gut.
The Void.
It whispered. Not in English or any language I remembered from life, but I understood.
It wanted me to let go. To surrender. To open up.
My mind tried to catalogue the sensation.
I spread my legs wider, inviting the next wave, and the tendril obliged, splitting into two, then three, all of them wriggling and insistent, finding every hidden ache and making it scream.
I arched back, clutching the sides of the tub, legs shaking as the tendrils fucked me open.
They moved with purpose, not random but orchestrated, drawing circles around my clit, pressing inside, stroking my walls with a slow, exquisite violence.
The pleasure built fast, too fast, and I clawed at the marble to anchor myself.
The surface gave, leaving long, white scratch marks in the black.
When I finally let my head drop back, I saw the ceiling swirl, fractal and infinite, full of nothing but shadow.
I saw my reflection in the water, but it was not just me.
The face shifted, shifting between Bathory and Mary and Darya, then overlaying the men I’d loved, the men I’d wanted.
Aziz, his teeth bared and eyes wild, Levi, hair slicked back and grinning, Ian, smirking with one finger hooked under his lower lip.
All of them staring, all of them watching me give in.
“Fuck,” I breathed, and the water vibrated with the word, carrying it to every nerve ending.
The tendrils thickened, more and more of them now, wrapping my thighs, my waist, even my breasts.
They squeezed just shy of pain, holding me open for their work.
The one inside me twisted, curling upward to hit that impossible place I’d only read about, and I cried out, knees slamming against the sides of the tub.
The sound echoed, bouncing off stone and glass, vibrating up my spine.
The Void was greedy. It pressed deeper, then pulled back, then thrust again, building a rhythm that left no room for thought.
The pleasure blurred, every sense distilling down to the pressure of being filled, split, rewired.
My eyes rolled back. My teeth clamped down so hard I tasted copper.
The tendrils throbbed in time with my pulse, or maybe they’d replaced my pulse entirely.
I lost count of how many times I came. The line between one orgasm and the next had long since evaporated.
At the peak, the tendrils inside me expanded, multiplying, forcing my body to accept more and more until the boundaries stretched, threatened to split, then reformed around the new fullness. The sensation was so intense I thought I might pass out. I didn’t want to. I wanted to ride it, drown in it.
The world outside the bath began to crack.
The marble walls splintered, fissures running up and out like lightning veins.
Each time I shrieked, a new fracture opened, leaking shadow into the room.
The air vibrated with the hum of the Void’s hunger, and the black water in the tub boiled, not with heat but with need.
I saw myself reflected in a thousand shards—one screaming, one laughing, one utterly blank with bliss.
The whispers crescendoed, no longer in any language at all. They called me, over and over, but never as Evelyn. Only Lilith. Over and over: Lilith. Lilith. Lilith.
The last orgasm hit like a bomb. My body seized, then went liquid.
The tendrils withdrew, but not all the way; they left something inside me, a residue, a memory, a promise that I’d never be empty again.
I sagged in the water, head lolling, every muscle turned to jelly.
My hands drifted to my belly, and I half expected to feel movement there, the way pregnant women do in dreams.
The bathwater went still. The tendrils faded into it, leaving only a faint shimmer in the air above the tub, as if they were still watching, waiting for my next move.
I thought of Aziz again, then Levi, then Ian. The ache was still there, but no longer desperate, no longer an infection. I had been filled, and emptied, and filled again. I belonged, not to them, but to this.
Inhaling a breath, their names burned on my tongue, then I let it loose unvoiced.
Dripping black, I climbed out of the bath and walked naked across the room. The marble cracked under my feet. The lines on my arms glowed with a new, steady light. The Void had marked me, claimed me, made me its queen.
I looked once more into the mirror, and this time, I liked what I saw. I smiled the way Lucifer liked and started the clock.