Page 92 of When Death Whispers

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “Both,” I admit, the word barely audible.

Rad’s eyes narrow, his nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply. “Your body betrays you, little Beholden,” he rumbles. “I can smell your arousal, taste your desire in the air.” He brings a clawed hand up to his chest, resting above his heart. “I canfeelhow much you want me.”

My cheeks burn, but I can’t deny the truth of his words. The bond between us pulses, a living thing that twines around my very essence. It whispers of dark promises, of pleasure so intense it borders on pain.

“The human cannot give you what I can,” he continues, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down my spine.

His words should repulse me, but instead, they ignite a fire in my core. I squeeze my thighs together, trying to quell the ache building there. But it’s futile. The bond draws me toward Rad like a moth to flame.

“Parker,” Hudson murmurs, his voice thick with sleep. He stirs beside me, arm tightening around my waist.

I freeze, torn between two worlds. The mortal realm of warmth and safety, and the dark, seductive pull of the supernatural. Rad’s eyes flash with something dangerous—possessiveness, hunger, a hint of rage.

“Soon,” he growls, the word a promise and a threat. In a blink, he’s gone, leaving only the lingering scent of ash and spice.

I shudder, my body still thrumming with unfulfilled desire. The bond aches, a hollow emptiness that even Hudson’s touch can’t fill. I turn to face him, burying my face in his chest, trying to ground myself in his familiar scent.

“Bad dream?” he asks softly, stroking my hair.

I nod, unable to trust my voice. The lie sits heavy on my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth. How could I explain the visceral pull of the bond, the way Rad’s presence ignites something primal within me?

Hudson’s arms tighten around me, his lips brushing my forehead. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

But am I?

The memory of Rad’s piercing gaze lingers, his words echoing in my mind.You gave him your body. But your pleasure? Your climax? That echoed through me like a siren’s song.

I shudder, pressing closer to Hudson, seeking comfort in his warmth. But even as I curl into his embrace, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m standing on the edge of a precipice. One wrong move, and I’ll fall into an abyss from which I may never find my way out.

And worse… Would I even want to?

34

My Beholden is alone.I sense it the way a predator senses the stillness of the forest before a kill—sharp, instinctual, immediate.

The human boy toy is gone. Called away by duty or convenience. It doesn’t matter. His warmth fades from her space like heat from a corpse.

And in his absence, the bond stirs.

It curls through her like smoke in the lungs—slow, sacred,mine.

She doesn’t say my name. She doesn’t have to. She thinks of me. And that’s enough.

The veil parts without resistance, as if even the air in her world has learned to make room for me. Her home is soaked in light, yet the bond pulses stronger here—rooted in the scent of her.

Orange blossoms. Sex. Sweat. It clings to every surface. I inhale deeply.Drinking her in.

She’s perched on the bed, back to the wall, legs bare and folded beneath her. What mortals call a tank top covers her chest, thin cotton stretched tight across her breasts. A pair of soft, pale panties is the only other barrier between me and her skin.

Her thoughts are loud.

Unfiltered.

Open.

I watch her chest rise—one shallow breath, then another. Faster now. Her pulse begins to race. She senses me.

“I didn’t call for you.”

---