Page 73 of When Death Whispers

My knees nearly buckle.

I gasp, my hands flying to the tile behind me, searching for purchase, forcontrol. But there is none. All I can do isfeel.

And I moan.

God help me, I moan.

They thrust again—deep, curling inside me like they want to make a home there. Each movement is calculated, designed to split me open from the inside out. They’re cold, like ice melting against fire, burningandsoothing, a contradiction I can’t process, can’t fight, can’t escape.

It’s too much. Too raw. Too soon. I’m still sore from Rad. Still stretched. Still aching. But the shadows don’t care. They know I’m already close.

And they feed on it.

Fuck. I think I’d rather he try to kill me instead of this… whatever this is. I don’t know how to escape this. I’m not prepared for it.

A sob escapes me. My eyes sting with tears that I can’t blink away, not from the pleasure, but from the grief. The shame. The helpless, overwhelming weight of everything pressing down on me.

My body doesn’t know the difference between safety and danger anymore.

It only knows touch.

Heat.

Need.

It only knows how to open.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I want to scream.

I want to disappear.

I want?—

A low chuckle curls around me. Deep and rich and cruel. A sound I know too well.

“You will do well to remember who you belong to, Snow Pea.”

I choke on a gasp as more shadows flood between my thighs, stretching me too wide, rubbing too hard. The pleasure sharpens—biting, unbearable.

And my body—traitorous, helpless—clings to it.

“You should have known better than to make a bargain with Rädslakorcu.”

Rädlsa what? Is that Rad’s full name?

I’m teetering. Teetering on that thin line where pleasure and pain blur into one, where I can’t tell if I’m about to break apart—or break entirely. Where sensation turns to white noise and all I can do isfeel.

The thinner tendrils circling my clit increase their speed. Fuck. Too fast.Too much.

A sob claws its way up my throat. “P-please…”

It’s barely a whisper. Barely anything at all. Raw. Shattered.

I’m drowning in the overwhelming pressure. The invasive pleasure. The dizzying realization that I don’t even know if I want it to stop.

And that terrifies me more than anything..

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