Page 8 of The Black Lotus
“That’s it, vixen, coat my cock in your blood and cum.” He pumps faster, stilling above me as his orgasm rips through him. “Fuck!” He roars, breathless, his head dropping against my own.
He slowly pulls out, breathing hard and helping me sit up, my legs shaking. He gets off the table first, and I follow nearly collapsing to the concrete floor. Before he has a chance to tempt me with his dick for round two, I walk to the door and wait for him to open it.
He laughs, “Oh, you want out?”
“That would be nice,” I say, arms crossed, waiting for him to show me how to escape.
He walks over and reaches above my head, my eyes watching as he pulls a latch you wouldn’t know is there from looking at it. I duck under his arm and head for the mirror in the corner to see the results of my training.
I gasp, looking at my reflection.One, two…I start counting the cuts he made, my eyes growing wider with each one I find. Twelve; there are twelve cuts across my entire body, blood still trickling from the deeper ones.
He comes over, wrapping his arms around my body, resting his chin on my shoulder and kissing my neck softly.
We stand together, staring at my reflection. “I thought you cut me five times, not twelve.” Our eyes lock in the mirror. “How come I didn’t feel them?”
A small smile plays on his lips. “See what adding pleasure does for pain? You didn’t feel the other cuts, only the sting of bliss they created.”
I shake my head, laughing at his crazy methods.
He kisses the back of my head. “I’ll be right back.”
Before I can ask where he’s going, he walks back into my kill space and comes back later holding a rag and first aid kit. He walks over and sits on my chaise, tapping the spot beside him. Istand there, my upper lip curling in disgust, refusing to move.I don’t want to get blood on my furniture.
“Serena,” he warns.
“Are you going to clean up the blood that stains my new favorite spot?”
He moves to the floor and spreads his legs. “Better?”
I smile. “Much.”
“Good, now sit in front of me, on your knees.” Before I have a chance for a dirty remark, he adds, “You will suck my dick later, vixen. Now we need to get you cleaned up.”
I plop down in front of him, on my knees like he asked, not wanting to be punished any further, and he begins cleaning my wounds.
“Shit, that stings.” I wince.
“Did you think it’d tickle?”
I stare at him, open mouth, surprised he’s being a smart ass. Well, not surprised, more taken aback. It’s not like he hasn’t been a smart ass before, I just haven’t seen this side of him in awhile. Ever since he got the letter from his mom, he’s been more worked up than I realized.
We never really talked about his parents, but after the bomb of Zephira, Aster dove into a spiral, making sure I knew everything and still teaching me more every day.
“Hey, Aster?” I ask, placing my hand around his, stopping him from cleaning the last cut.
He hums, focusing on my wounds with an eye for detail I’d only seen when he was the Morbid Monet.
“How come you told me your parents were dead?”
He stills, looking up at me with the rag still resting over my chest. “They were dead to me.”
“I get that, but… why?”
He takes a deep breath and places the rag down. “When I was eighteen, I learned which prison they were housed in, andthe first thing I did was go to their cage to see them.” He pauses, looking away. I’m silent, waiting for him to continue. Bringing my hands to my lap, I pick at my nails, a million of why’s crossing my mind as the silence weighs us down. “When I got there, I was turned away. They told me my name was on the restricted access list.” He bunches his hands into fists, the memory replaying in his mind as he repeats it to me. “I fought with the guard, saying it has to be a mistake. I’m theirson; surely, they would want to see me after being taken away.” Tears well in my eyes, my nose burning at the pain coursing through him. Reaching out, desperate to offer any comfort I can, Aster rips his arm from my grasp, his brow furrowing as his hands slice through the air. “I demanded to speak to the person in charge, insisted I be allowed to speak to them. Instead of kicking me out, which I thought they would, they told me to sit. So I did. Five minutes later, the warden of the prison was kneeling before me explaining how he went to speak to them, but they refused to see me. I couldn’t believe it, but I couldn’t punch the face of the man in front of me with so many witnesses, so I shook my head, silent tears falling down my face, and left.” His hands fall limply into his lap and I grab them, rubbing my thumb over his shaking palms, my jaw tightening as he continues. “I left and wrote them each a letter. I sent it but got no response. For five years, I tried. I’d go back, I’d write more letters, but eventually… I gave up. They clearly didn’t want to see me.” He looks up, sad eyes meeting my own. “After that, I decided they were dead. I was already carrying on their legacy, so I made my rules, vowing to never make the same mistakes they did. The very rules I broke with you.” He laughs, squeezing my hands. “Serena, even though my mother is after you, she died a long time ago. If she ever dared show her face in front of me, I would snap her neck without a second thought. She is trying to kill the woman I love, and for that, she has to die.”
He pulls me into his arms, my shoulders relaxing as he holds me tight. “I will protect you, Serena; I won’t let anyone hurt you or come between us. I will kill her. I vow it on the blood spilled between us.”
I snuggle into his chest, placing my hand over his racing heart and letting his words sink in.
