Page 304 of Rage

“You speak when I say you may speak.” I smack him again, my strike drawing blood to the surface. “You are my pet to do with as I please.”

“Yes, Rhona.”

He closes his eyes when I strike again, brows hitching and lips parting.

“You owe everything to me, pet.” And again. This time, he bites his lower lip, nostrils flaring as he takes the punishment I deal. “Everything you are, the life you lead. You breathe because I allow it, understand?”

Declan does not reply. A shudder racks his shoulders, and he presses his face against the mattress. I hesitate, watching each tremor and counting every breath.

“Dawn?” I ask.

The rails creak as he tightens his grip.

“Declan.” I press a hand between his shoulder blades. “Dawn?”

“Moonrise,” he blurts, voice muffled. “Gods, Rhona, moonrise. Please, don’t stop.”

A smile overtakes my face. I stroke my hand down his spine, and Declan rolls into my touch, every inch of his glorious body responsive and mine. I bend over his back, scraping his ear with my teeth. Venom sweetens my breath, and I bite the spacebeneath his ear. Declan’s cry of pleasure is music to my ears. A whine tempered with desire that has my cunt clenching.

“Tell me,” I ask before puncturing his throat a second time. More of my venom enters his bloodstream, and Declan relaxes beneath me. “Tell me, pet, why do I own you?”

“Because you killed them.” His tongue is thick and drunken, words slurring from my bite and the pleasure riddling his body. “You killed them all.”

“Why?” I lap at his neck, mind reeling from the richness of his blood. I will never tire of this. All that muscle, all that strength on display for the lords and ladies we hunt, and he is weak for me. Pliant and subservient, taking the punishment I dole and begging for more. “Speak, Declan.”

“They beat us and starved us,” he says. “They sold the girls for a night of entertainment and pitted the boys against each other in the ring.” I kiss my way down his body, rewarding him with every true word he speaks. For grounding me in what we do, hall and after hall. For reminding me why I let him live.

I have forgotten the taste of wine and berries and cakes. If I am not careful, I will forget this.

“They beat us when we lost.” He shudders as I drag my fangs across his lower back. “Beat us and tossed us into the cold.”

“And then?” I pinch his cheek with a fang, cupping his rear.

“You found me.”

“I did.” Spreading his cheeks, I breathe against his hole. “Good pet.”

Declan wriggles, knowing better than to speak when he has earned a reward. I draw venom and saliva onto my tongue before dragging my fangs down sensitive flesh. His cheeks tense at the pain, no more than a splinter, and then I sweep the meager wounds with my tongue. Declan’s moan vibrates through his body, as deep and guttural as his voice the day he asked me to kill them all.

“Every lord,” he had rasped. “Every lady. Every wretched piece of filth that treats us like vermin.”

And I did. I was new, then. More monster than mistress, and my hunger knew no bounds. I glutted myself on his keepers, drinking until my stomach threatened to burst, and the rest I drained while Declan opened the cells and recruited my brothers and sisters. Hall to hall we went, setting traps and cutting out the rot of humanity. One by one, the children I rescued grew into men and women. One by one, they asked to become my night siblings. To help me cleanse these lands of the festering blemish of humanity.

All but Declan.

“You like me weak,” he had said with a cocky grin, and I could not argue. Knowledge may be the first major failing of weak men, but this is not always a curse.

I love him like this, drunk off my venom and liquid beneath my hands. Whimpering and panting. My plaything and lover when the rest have become my kin.

The thought lengthens my fangs, and they pierce the tender flesh beside his hole. Declan curses, legs shooting straight as I leave them inserted and suck. My name leaves his lips like a prayer, the heat of his body rising as I draw blood to his nethers. I swear, it is richer when I drink from him like this. Sweeter and more intoxicating when drawn from a place that gives him as much pleasure as it does me.

Moisture pools in my leggings, the leather teasing my clit as I rock my hips, seeking more friction, the same as Declan. He presses against my mouth, and his scent drowns out my thoughts. There is a hint of lavender and rose. A hint of the lye from a wealthy woman’s soap, but the rest is all him. Musk and sweat, the earthiness of his leathers. It has me grasping his cheeks and spreading them wide, pooling venom and saliva on my tongue before I thrust into his hole.

He gasps above me, a restrained cry of pleasure that ribbons into my ears. But soon, his body is lax, and the muscles are all but drawing my tongue deeper. I thrust and roll, massaging his cheeks before I pull away and replace my tongue with a finger. Declan’s groan as I insert a digit is pure, mind-bending bliss. I turn my wrist and crook my finger, earning another sweet cry.

“Dawn?” I ask.

He takes a moment to answer, so I crook my finger again.

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