Page 137 of Rage

When he pulls me to the brink of release, he pulls his fingers free, dissolving my climax before it has the chance to curl over.

As he stands before me, the outline of his hard-on in his pants paints my arousal even brighter shades of want. I pull him toward me and rip his pants off, his giant cock springing to life before me. He removes his shirt, exposing his exquisitely defined abs and notches, pointing treasure hunters like myself toward the most delectable treasure.

Like coming upon the most delightful snack, my mouth salivates as I encircle the tip of his dick with my tongue, gazing up at him before sinking down the length.

Coaxing the most delicious sounds from his throat, I grasp him by his firm little ass and pull him into me as deep as I can. He grabs the back of my head and guides me fast, fast, slow, fast, fast, slow.

Every muscle in his body tenses up, and his dick hardens further when he pulls me from it to stop himself from cumming and kisses me, looking at me like I'm the one who shaped the sky.

He yanks me up from the floor and kisses me, then grabs me by the throat and throws me onto the couch.

Pulling my legs wide open, I feel on display until he says, "You’re fucking perfect," as he swirls my clit with his thumb while the other hand guides himself into me.

"Oh fuck," I utter as he swirls his hips in one long roll, seating himself to the hilt within my depths.

I moan loudly, and he swallows the sound in a crumbling kiss, tasting my ruin at his hands like he has a sword notched at my neck.

In and out, he pierces me, peeling back my skin and exposing my ribs and inner workings—the maiden within the beast. The inner woman fights her way to the surface, peeling back the beastly layers and laying herself bare before this sexy man.

My claws rake over his pecs, the swirl of chest hair soft and rugged beneath my fingers. I'm careful not to claw him, but when I do scrape his skin more roughly than I intend, the guttural growl he emits lets me know it's a welcomed pain.

The air is thickening as we trade pieces of each other, and he pulls me with him when he reaches the edge of the universe.

The crescendo of ecstasy implodes me from the inside out, and as he explodes within, he kisses me like I am the last bit of air in a sinking ship.

As he slows his kisses and is about to pull out of me, the room grows unnaturally cold. The air crackles with energy, and the hearth flickers blue before dying out. The manor, alive with its own magick, responds to my anxiety. A heavy, gilded mirror on the far wall appears in the room before us and begins to glow, tapping into something within my memory.

"What the hell?" Steele mutters, removing himself from me and gathering his pants.

I freeze, my claws retracting as fear overtakes me. "No," I whisper. "Not this."

"What is it?” Steel asks me as he steps into his pants.

"My curse."

Chapter Ten

Steele

The mirror ripples like water, and suddenly, it shows a vivid, living memory.

It's dark in the halls of a grand castle. Steele watches as young Reverie runs in a white nightgown toward a girl screaming. Moonlight dances through the rectangular windows, dappling the stone Reverie runs on. As she comes to a heavy wooden door with iron hinges, she bursts into the room to the dismay of the man whipping the young girl.

Reverie screams, the man's wild gaze slicing through her, though he doesn't stop the assault on the girl. Reverie grabs a sword from the wall and runs up to the man, the crooked crown on his head introducing him as the king. The girl, tied to the wall by way of rope, chain, and hooks, looks up at Reverie, her dark hair and features revealing that she's Reverie's younger sister. Her lip is split and bleeding, her face and arms bruised and battered, she’s barefoot and dirty like she’s not had a bath in days. Reverie notches the sword at his neck.

“Touch her again and I'll slice you from your eyes to your toes and let your insides spill out onto the floor before us,” she rasps, the conviction in her words wrapping around her entirely andsolidifying her solemnly. Steele could see her beast within being fed.

The king's wild eyes go unfocused, and he mutters something incoherently. He backs away from the girl as Reverie goes toward her and unhooks her from the wall, her wrists still wrapped by rope that’s angered her skin to bleeding.

The king, his crown sitting atop his head askew, the whip dangling, dripping blood onto the floor. A woman who looks like an older Reverie storms in—the queen.

Steele recognizes her from history books, though she looks young and beautiful.

The rumors of the kingdom's history are that the queen was cursed long ago, and while the kingdom further deteriorates, she's been cursed to rule the kingdom for eternity in her loneliness, forgetting about the king—there was never anything in the books about her children.

Steele is watching the curse as it happened so so very long ago.

The young Reverie stands before her sister, sword pointed at the king, while the queen assesses the situation.

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