Page 128 of Gift from the Wing

They’re intruders.

“Cas,” I say quietly, lifting my hand to cup his cheek, but pause my movements when his eye twitches. “Come back to me. I’m right here.”

Slowly, I slink forward another step, standing close enough there’s barely a breath between us, but not touching him. Yet.

“I’ll meet you in the dark, Cas,” I whisper, then surround us in my shadows.

My black veil blocks out all the light and the two of us stand under the spray of cascading water, breathing heavily. The tension around him begins to lessen, which immediately makes mine leak out of me as well.

“I’m back,” he grits out.

“Not entirely. Tell me what happened.”

His breath fans my eyelashes as he finally makes a move and pulls my body flush to his. The erratic beat of his heart thuds below my hand and my fingers run circles around his moon until it begins to level out.

“Those rooms the hostages were in looked like the one I was in. Cold stone and the empty promise of a death that seemed too far away. I didn’t come across a single hostage that had a shred of hope left in their eyes.” He takes a deep breath, and I wait him out, knowing he isn’t done. “That lab. I never saw the one they had at the structure I was held in, but all I could think about is how he probably had one just like it. Recording every change in me as the days passed by. How I fucking begged for them to stop.”

His black eyes, heavy breathing, and trembling hands warn me of his next move before he even makes it.

Calling my water element forth, I command it around his fist, protecting and blocking his knuckles from the tile behind my head. I saw the punch coming, and I refuse to allow him to hurt himself.

I order the elusive element to surround him, bring him closer to me. My earth flows through my hands and I strip away our shirts so he can feel my skin on his when he crowds me closer to the wall.

“Her,” he whispers. “That bitch is still out there, believing she can do whatever she pleases to me. Believing she has some right or claim to me. I am not hers to claim. My soul is already owned.”

I breathe through the possessive rage that rises in me like lava. This isn’t about me or my feelings right now, but I can’t help the fury that consumes me when I think about Silvia. How I want more than anything to end her for what she’s done to my man. My Nexus member. I wish her ass had been there so I could’ve thrown her in the magma pit along with her best friend.

“Who owns your soul?”

I meant for it to be a soft question. I wanted my voice to come across as sweet, light, so I could pull him the rest of the way over the edge.

Instead, it was a fierce, possessive growl that just shoved us both into the abyss below.

My mind barely has time to process what’s happening when a cold dagger is placed at the waistband of my pants. In a move as swift as smoke, he has my pants shredded and torn from my body.

His cold hands clamp on my thighs, and my legs automatically wrap around his waist as he crashes me into the wall with his lips plastered to mine.

In my mind, somewhere deep in the back of it, I know I should give myself over completely to him so he can let his darkness bleed out, but I can’t. My possessive need to claim him, mark him as mine, all mine, won’t allow it.

I deepen the kiss while grinding against him and my nails that have sharpened of their own accord pierce his shoulders, drawing a hiss from his lips when he breaks away from me.

“Naughty little Primary,” he breathes, slamming my hands above my head with his shadows.

“Who. Owns. Your. Soul?”

A dark, twisted smirk crosses his face when he grips my hips tightly, pinning me completely against the wall. My body shivers as his hard cock lines up with my pussy and I bite my lip to hold in my whimper.

“You do, Willow Vito. Every blackened, broken piece is yours. As are the threads of light that now weave themselves through it. It’s all yours.”

In one brutal thrust, he slams into me so fully, I feel him in my gut. That line between pain and pleasure blurs and I cry out his name, begging for more.

And fuck does he answer my plea wholeheartedly.

With every punishing pump of his hips, his darkness bleeds out all over me. My skin absorbs it, loves it, then shoves it back at him full force until he’s panting my name like I’m his dying wish.

His unforgiving grip is surely leaving bruises on my hips, and I hope there’s a perfect impression of his fingers inside of Draken’s seared handprint. Despite the fact those blemishes will heal, it makes me fucking feral thinking about two of my men’s marks on my body.

The touch of his shadows crawls across my skin, teasing my clit in slow circles, keeping my release just out of reach. He places me on the edge of oblivion, then snatches me back, just so I’ll feel as consumed with himas he does me.

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