Page 83 of Tears of Revenge

“I’m glad you are willing to let me tear you apart to save me from myself.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Avalon pulled herself up and wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him to hold her under her ass. “Can we do some gardening? I feel like I need to calm a little.”

“Of course.”

And for the next few hours he watched her dig in the dirt, transforming another part of the garden to her liking. As always, he sat back to watch while Lysander acted as her right hand. Varos sat next to him, his eyes as bright as the sun while they watched their little dove.

He was so damn proud of her that his heart nearly started beating again. Avalon held more potential than she could ever realise. Even if she didn’t feel it, she was owning her new self like a queen in her kingdom.

He stood and went to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass, then descended to the dungeon with some protein bars and a bottle of water. He opened the door and slipped inside, carefully closing it behind him again. The bastard was scrambling to get away, and a piece of Marcus’s old self came through. Dark thoughts of how to make Troy feel the worst pain imaginable crept into his mind. He crouched down, a sinister grin curling his lips as Troy tried to squeeze himself into the cracks of the wall—as if that would save him from his horrendous fate.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Marcus taunted.

Troy’s eyes widened. The little specks of colour he still had faded from his face, and his eyes darted to the door.

“Does that scare you? Thinking of the woman you destroyed coming after you? Funny, isn’t it? All of this could’ve been avoided if you’d treated her like the queen she is. Varos would’ve never taken interest in her if you hadn’t thrown a temper tantrum in that parking lot. She would’ve never fled from you, and right into our arms. We wouldn’t have fallen for her and never would’ve saved her if you had just been decent to her.”

He stood and walked over to the pathetic excuse for a man. He grabbed the rope, yanking Troy into the air, the man hanging in front of Marcus like bad deli meat.

“Don’t worry; we will treat her right. We’ll show her that she is worth everything. I will kiss the fucking ground she walks on and worship her body like the temple it is.”

He let him dangle there for a moment, casually sipping on his blood and letting Troy’s pitiful whimpers go in one ear and out the other. Then he dropped him, his body clashing with the ground. As he walked out, he dropped the protein bars and water where he stood. Troy would have to work to get to them, making his life as miserable as possible.

Upstairs, he found Avalon washing her hands in the kitchen while Lysander and Varos were outside putting away the gardening tools.

“He’s still alive,” he grumbled, answering her unspoken question.

“I want to try again. I thought we could use him to test my restraint around humans. Only if you three are willing to take a few more cuts and bruises.”

“We are.” He didn’t need to check with the others. “We will do it as often as you need.”

“I thought he used me all this time, I could use him to my benefit as well.”

A few minutes later, Avalon had the silver chain in hand once more, taking slow steps down to the dungeon. Varos opened the door and stepped inside, serving as a barrier between her and Troy. She didn’t follow right away, the silver dragging over her skin as she snaked it through her fingers. Her body was stiff, her eyes seeking out each of her men. Once she had their reassurance, she took another step, and another until she stared at the worm of a man in front of her.

This time, that flicker of the girl she once was didn’t appear. Avalon didn’t lose sight of the warrior she’d become. Her face hardened, body struggling with the scent of fresh blood that was only inches away. Eyes bloodshot and fangs piercing her lips, she reached for Lysander. Without a word, he appeared by her side.

He bent down, slicing his thumb open and spreading his blood over her lips. “Focus on the pain in your hands, the taste of my blood.” But they all could see she was losing the fight. With his other hand Lysander guided Avalon towards the door. “Step back. Follow me and I’ll reward you for how well you did.”

She’d only taken one step when Troy flinched, and she shot forward again. Varos instantly had his arm around her waist, while Lysander offered his wrist as collateral. The violence of her bite made Lysander’s eyes water, but he didn’t pull away. Once the door was closed and they were halfway up the stairs, she came back to herself. When she saw how much she’d hurt Lysander, she licked over his shredded wrist, kissing him and apologising over and over.

“Hey, why does he get kisses and I don’t?” he whined playfully. “You tore my face up last time!”

Avalon grabbed his face and pulled him close with such force that he stumbled, making them topple over each other on the stairs. She kissed him from his forehead, over his nose and across both his cheeks. “Better?” she asked with a cheeky grin, seeming to enjoy being crushed under his body.

“Very much so.” He pushed his hands under her and lifted her into his arms. “Now, how about we take this to the bedroom? We can reward you together.”

Avalon answered with kisses along his jaw and trailing down his neck, digging her heels into his back. His muscles buzzed, dick instantly hard. Avalon’s fangs scraped over his skin, and he couldn’t help but groan, snatching a fistful of hair to hold her in place. She took the hint, sinking her fangs into his neck and pouring her antidote into his veins.

Marcus pinned her down on the bed once he reached her room. Her legs kicked, hips wiggling in an attempt to get her shorts off. Marcus leaned back, happy to help, only spreading out over her again once her legs were free of the material. The mattress dipped when Lysander kneeled next to her.

He hummed, guiding her by her hair. “Let go, little dove. Lysander needs you.”

Avalon turned her head, gently kissing Lysander’s bare thighs before piercing his skin. Marcus used his new freedom to sit back and admire Avalon in all her glory. Varos seemed to be doing the same, though he’d chosen to do so from farther away. He was sitting in an armchair, his legs spread and his palm pressing down on the erection straining the front of his jeans.

Marcus danced his fingertips up her inner thighs, missing the ridges of her stretchmarks he never got to feel. She was as smooth as polished stone, and much cooler than when blood had rushed hot through her veins. Not a man to dwell on the past, he leaned down and let his tongue flicker through her folds until he flattened it against her clit. Her hips bucked towards him, her moan drowned in Lysander’s bulky thigh. Pushing one hand under her ass, he ran his other over her pussy and around to her ass. As expected, she flinched, but arched into his touch and his thumb sank into her hole. He hadn’t tried it again since her first time, but it still made him daydream.

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