Page 71 of A Study of Blood and Ichor

There had been no other option but violence. I had wanted—no, needed—to protect what I felt was mine. Ours.

Maybe it was all the years of being possessed that had turned me feral. Obsessive.

But the minute Vain shifted us back to the penthouse, the gravity of it all hit me like a freight train.

Ava had been taken—almost killed.

My head swam with the possibilities of what could have been, and Vain had shut down on me. He’d retreated into my subconscious with all his shame and rage for failing her. He had refused to let her see that part of him and he'd gone to great lengths to keep it from me as well. And I was still angry with him for abandoning me last night and for deciding to show up only when he damned well felt like it.

Only Ava had been there to pull me out of the shock. I’d often wondered why it was she possessed the need to fix everything around her that she felt was broken, but after her confession about her sister, I think I finally understood why.

I used to think her need to fix me was her most annoying trait, but last night it had been a blessing. Somehow, she had known exactly what I needed to ground me and remind me of who I was.

I was no monster. I was no demon.

I was just Rory.

The problem was, I could barely remember what it felt like to be just me. Vain had become such an integral part of me, like he was an extension of my soul, so intertwined that there were days when it felt like I could barely distinguish between us.

I ground my hips into the mattress again, and Vain let out a groan alongside mine, so loud it reverberated through to my core.

The demon shot forward, taking control.

What the hell are you doing?

But I knew full well what Vain intended because he’d already flipped over onto his back and fisted a hand around my cock, tugging at it. Teasing.

Finishing what you started.

I shuddered internally at his touch. The way he jerked our shaft in slow, unhurried movements had my very essence quivering. I was so painfully hard that my whole body ached.

“Tell me how you want it.” Vain brought a hand up and spit before sliding his slick palm over the head and squeezing hard.

Fast, I answered, and it sounded like a gasp even in my mind.

Vain hummed thoughtfully. “Shame. I think I’d rather take my time.”

His grip tightened before I could object, and he tugged his fist from crown to base, pulling a moan from me that traveled down the bond like a rippling wave and echoed from our chest.

It was pointless to fight him, not that I could anyways. Vain knew my body irritatingly well, almost as well as he understood my mind. More often, we’d started to exist in moments where it felt as if we were one, and there wasn’t a single barrier that stood between us.

We became one body, one entity. One soul. My hand was his. This body was mine—ours—his to control and do with as he pleased.

And I let him. Because I was a desperate man.

Harder, I pleaded with him through the bond. He smirked and clenched his fist over our cock, every long and slow stroke bringing us both closer to the precipice of a rapturous bliss.

As he controlled every firm caress of my hand, Vain forced images of Ava into my mind that he knew would make me lose the last shreds of self-control I had left, like that tight fucking dress that had practically been painted onto her curves, her thighs deliciously spilling from the hem.

He showed me all the things I had tried so hard not to imagine too, particularly her soft luscious lips wrapping themselves around our shaft, the warm wetness of her tongue flicking out and lapping at all we had to give her.

Even the memory of her last night, her breathless whimpers and the rasping sounds of her losing herself all over my fingers…that thought combined with Vain’s vice-like grip as he pumped our cock—faster, harder—I fucking lost it.

With my hand completely left at Vain’s mercy, I came in thick, heavy ribbons that coated my stomach, and he let out a groan that tore through our chest and echoed my internal moans I casted down the bond.

He sagged against the mattress and looked at the glistening mess he’d made of us with twisted satisfaction.

You’re a fucking sadist, I said.

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