Page 96 of Touched By Death

Paint her in cum.

Mark her as theirs.

Erase Lucifer and leave the little angel a tortured, aching mess.

Their bulging arms move swiftly as they stand shoulder-to-shoulder in front of Aurelia. Daemon refrains from spreading his wings, and I know it’s for my benefit. If he does, I won’t be able to witness their animalistic claiming.

With a final grunt, Ronan comes, his cum raining over her belly and pussy in quick spurts. Soon after, Daemon lets out a deep growl and jerks his dick harshly as he comes over her shivering body. Not one to disappoint, Alaric comes too, his cum squirting in an arc and raining over her tits and stomach. It’s so fucking primal.

I squeeze my thighs together to alleviate the ache there. I’m horny.

With a final tug on his dick, Alaric lets out a satisfied growl.

Reaching out and dragging his fingers through their combined cum, Daemon grabs the little witch’s chin with his other hand and smears their seed over her mouth before pushing his fingers between her lips. She gags, causing a cruel smile to play at the corners of his lips.

He slides his fingers through their seed again and smears it over her cheeks, his touch rough and dirty. Meanwhile, Ronan tosses his packet of cigarettes to Alaric, who proceeds to light one up.

“Do you know what’s most telling about all of this?” Daemon asks her as he grabs her by the throat and leans in close to breathe in his scent on her skin. A satisfied, masculine rumble vibrates his chest. “You could have escaped your confines at any moment, little angel. We both know you’re powerful enough.” He snaps his teeth at her and exits the room, calling out over his shoulder, “Come on, let’s leave her alone with her throbbing pussy to think about her bratty behavior.”

Ronan and Alaric chuckle as they follow Daemon, but I push off the bars and make my way up to her.

Covered in cum and tears, she’s a beautiful storm.

One I’d like to drown in.

Placing my hands on the damp brick, I lean in close to her face and swirl my tongue over her supple lips, tasting the boys’ claiming. Her trembling breath mingles with mine, and I look her in the eye with a final nip to her bottom lip. “He’s right, you know?”

Aurelia says nothing, shivering as the cum on her skin slowly turns cold.

“Your hellfire is coming back. I know you feel it. And with the Light inside you, there’s no limit to your power. Yet here you are, strung up in chains like helpless prey.” I press my lips to her ear. “A whore to be used and discarded. But it’s okay.” I suck her earlobe between my lips, then let go. “While you pretend to be weak, we’ll play with you until you break. But we all know that you’re the strongest of the pack. You’re not the prey, little witch. You’re the hunter. Toying with us like a cat with a mouse.” Then, with a final smirk, I push off the brick and walk out. But before I leave, I look back at her over my shoulder. “Enjoy your chains.”

AURELIA

Loose pieces of grit stick to my bare feet as they move across the cold cobblestones. My white dress swirls around my ankles and disturbs the thick, white mist. It rolls across the ground, carrying with it the earthy, wet scent of the forest: pine, broken pieces of bark, and sap.

“Amenadiel,” I call out as I wrap my arms around myself to ward off the cold that seeps beneath the thin fabric of my dress. Goosebumps dot my arms, the hairs standing on end. I sweep my gaze around the quiet town square. The cherub fountain in the middle—framed by boarded-up, derelict buildings—stares back at me with empty eyes. Parts of its face have crumbled away with time. An old, rusty bike with a horn leans up against the fountain.

“Amenadiel?” My voice echoes in the silence.

Chills crawl up my spine like a thousand little spiders that spread out across my shoulder blades. My wings flex behind me in response.

“Amenadiel isn’t here.”

I swivel around, my skirt flaring around my thighs. Strands of my hair stick to my moist lips, so I swipe them away.

Genesis steps out from the shadows by the side of a boarded-up bar. What was once a neon sign has partly come away and now hangs on its side. Her dark hair frames her face, and her cold, soulless eyes track me as she seems to float across the cobblestone. Dressed in a long, black dress with a high thigh slit that highlights her every curve, she’s a vision. And so unlike me, in my tattered white dress and blonde hair.

Wait a minute? Blonde hair?

With a gasp, I peer behind me at my white feathers. I lift my hands up and stare wide-eyed at my translucent pale skin.

“You can’t escape who you are,” Genesis taunts, head cocked to the side.

I look from my hands to her and swallow past the thick lump in my throat.

“You’ll always belong to the Light. Not them.”

“And you’ll always belong here, trapped in the shadows.” I don’t know where my bravery is coming from. In reality, I feel so small.

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