Page 93 of Flock This

“Then I’ll bear that cross.” With that, pain sparked through me, so fast and intense that I couldn’t stop myself from crying out.

Heat poured through my body, my heart racing, the hands that shoved at him trembling, then grasping him. My mind clouded, my thoughts turning sluggish.

When I’d had sex with him, he’d managed to make me feel out of control, but it was nothing compared to this. Last time he’d coaxed me into this madness with him, but this time? He shoved me headfirst and drowned me in it.

He released his bite and latched his lips around the spot, drawing mouthfuls of my blood into his mouth. Each draw caused that heat to grow inside me, sparking it into an inferno I didn’t know could ever get put out.

“Please, give me the antidote,” I begged. “Bite me again, please.” Even as I asked him to, I wrapped my arms around him, desperate to get closer. It felt like this agonizing desire inside me could only be cured by the man before me, the one I hated right now.

He dragged his tongue along my throat as he grabbed my thighs and wrapped them around his waist, taking my weight with ease. “No. I won’t lose you, Grey, not to the council, not to death, not to anything.”

He carried me back inside, and before I knew it, the soft, familiar mattress of his bed pressed against my back. He kissed the still bleeding bite at my throat, as though that spot mattered to him, the touch oddly gentle given the blood, the pain, the fucked-up situation between us.

Even so, I rolled my hips, grinding against him, my body needy and out of any sort of control. He wouldn’t do as I wanted, but fuck it, my body only cared about his touch. I dug my fingers into him, trying to get his clothes off, desperate to have more of him.

He shifted back, catching my wrists and pinning them against the mattress beside my head. His eyes had turned red, a sign that he’d lost all control of himself. He stared down at me as though he’d seen nothing lovelier, nothing prettier in his entire life.

“It hurts,” I begged him, throwing my pride away as I hooked one leg around him and rubbed myself against his thick erection. “It hurts so much.”

He leaned his forehead against mine. “I know it does. Just breathe through it.”

“Help me.”

“I can’t.”

“You did this to me, and you won’t help me?”

He gulped, then shook his head. “I’ve already done this, something you’ll hate me for. I won’t fuck you when you’re out of your mind, won’t take that from you, too.” He shifted, rolling to his side and gathering me against his chest. I panted, squirming for some sort of relief, but nothing came. His strong arms kept me there, my back pinned to his chest, and he ran his fingers along my arms as though to calm me.

I felt that bond, somewhere on the edges of the desire, but it was a web that wouldn’t let me free. So, my body going haywire, the reality of what Kelvin had done, the pain from his betrayal, my complete helplessness in the situation, it all mixed until everything faded away.

It was like my brain shut down when it all became too much, and while it happened, the whole time, I heard Kelvin’s soothing voice reassuring me in my ear.

And I never thought I could love and hate something so much all at once.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I narrowed my eyes, hating my life right about now. No matter how I opened my mouth, no sound escaped.

Which had me glaring at, well, everyone.

They’d managed to silence me, something I was sure every person in my life had wished they could do at some point in our time together. This time, though, it was Ruben who’d gotten the task done.

Or, rather, it was the magical barrier in place that did it. It kept me in a chair beside the central crystal, and no matter how I tried, no sound escaped my lips. I could have possibly escaped the chamber, but for what?

Anything I presented here wouldn’t matter. Unless given prior to trial, unless Ruben the trial beforehand, no outside evidence mattered.

I hadn’t spoken a single word to Kelvin since I’d woken, still wrapped up in his arms. The moment I’d stirred, he’d sighed and released me as though he knew I needed space.

What I need is to nail him in the balls.

However, no amount of testicle hacky sac would fix what had happened. One look in the mirror had shown the scars at my throat, the ones that proved he’d done the worst, that he had, all on his own, had stolen my freedom. I’d touched the spots, then jerked my hand away when it had still ached so badly.

But talking—or kicking—wouldn’t change a fucking thing, so I’d done my best to ignore Kelvin. He’d left clothing for me—not the uniform of a thrall, but a lovely dress with a tulle skirt that brushed against the floor and pulled tight with a ribbon corset at the back. I’d tied it myself, despite the acrobatics that it had taken and the probably piss-poor job. I wasn’t about to ask Kelvin for shit, though.

When we’d arrived at the council building, he’d handed me over to the Justice guards, who had brought me straight to Ruben. He’d dropped his gaze to my throat, then pressed his lips together without speaking.

He knew what those marks meant, knew it meant saving my life.

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