Page 95 of When Death Whispers

“Please,” she pants. “Please, Rad.”

“Please what?” I murmur.

“Fuck me,” she breathes. “I want you inside me. Now.”

Wicked delight shoots through me at her admission. That’s all I need.

I position myself between her thighs, dragging my cock through her slick heat.

“Look at me,” I growl. “I want to see your face when I claim you.”

Her eyes lock on mine—and I thrust in, hard and deep. She cries out, back arching as I fill her completely. Her walls clench, tight and hot around me.

“Fuck,” I snarl. “You feel like heaven wrapped in hell.”

I move. Hard. Deep. Unrelenting. Her cries grow louder, her body lifting to meet each thrust, desperate for more. Her legs wrap around me, keeping me there, her thoughts slamming into mine like a tide. So damned perfect. With the looks of an angel, made to claim a demon.

My claws grip her hips, leaving marks she’ll feel for days. Right on top of the already fading ones I had left before. Good. I want her to remember.

“Who do you belong to?” I demand.

“You,” she gasps. “I belong to you, Rad.”

A growl low and deep escapes me, my beast side going feral at the words. I lose it.

I drive into her with wild abandon, her moans mixing with the crash of the headboard and the ripping of sheets. Feathers from her duvet fly around us in a strange snowy storm.

“Come for me, Beholden,” I growl. “Let me feel you fall apart.”

And she does.

Her orgasm slams into her—violent, raw, perfect.

I follow her over the edge, roaring as I spill inside her, claiming her in the oldest, most sacred way.

For a moment, we’re still—locked together, in a pile of feathers, adding emphasis that she is not at all angelic, but rather a creature born to claim monsters.

And she’s now wrecked, trembling, andmine.

I lower my head to her throat, inhaling her. Slowly, I ease out of her. She whimpers.

I gather her into my arms, tucking her against my chest.

“You did so well,” I whisper against her temple. “So perfect for me.”

Her fingers trail mindless patterns in my fur. She’s dazed, quiet.

“Was this… real?” she murmurs.

A low chuckle rumbles through me. “As real as the marks on your skin, Beholden. As real as the ache you’ll feel tomorrow.”

She shivers.

“Sleep now,” I command softly, stroking her hair. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

But I don’t say the rest.

I’ve got you now, little one. And I’m never letting go.

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