Page 40 of Exile
"You feel so fucking perfect," Grey groans, smashing his hips into mine.
Feeling inspired, I grip the knife firmly, pressing it against Grey's neck. His eyes sparkle maniacally, somehow managing to fuck me even harder against the bookshelf as I cry out from the sheer force.
I dig my nails into his shoulder to balance myself, and to ensure I don't actually end up slicing his throat. The painfrom my grip spurs him on further, his hands grabbing my thighs hard enough to leave finger marks.
"I love the knife so much," I breathe out, holding it steady against his skin.
Grey leans forward, startling me for a moment as I quickly move to readjust my hold. He nearly impales himself on the blade, completely unfazed as he captures my lips in his.
My climax crashes through me quickly when his tongue molds into mine, hand shaking and accidentally nicking his skin. Before I can panic over drawing blood from him, he growls heatedly, the cut sending him over the edge as he hastily slams into me a few more times before shooting his release into me.
A droplet of blood drips down his neck, staining his shirt as we keep kissing passionately, still wrapped up in each other.
Pulling back for a moment, Grey calls out, "We're going to need a few more minutes, Deadman. I'm not done with Avery yet." Then, making good on his promise, Grey and I, plus the blade, go round two.
Chapter 15
Avery
If I thought the atmosphere in Lilydale was intense before, it had nothing on Damon's return. It's almost as if people thought he wouldn't be coming back, and seeing him was a stark, cold reminder of the entire situation.
Patients were still talking, the stories continuing to grow more outlandish by the day. On the plus side, I did hear one tiny rumor that I killed a guard which is why I stabbed Whitface when he allegedly tried to kick me out of Lilydale.
Needless to say, I haven't bothered to correct anyone. Damon was right—having people fear you was something else. People no longer saw me as invisible and barged into me in the hallways. For the first time in my life, I wasn't the girl in the glass box, watching life go by like a forgotten afterthought. I also wasn't the father killer who received pitying stares or disapproving looks.
I felt like the guys' equal.
Walking down the hallway with Damon, Grey, and Theo, people move out of our way, nodding to us. They can sense the power shift, and I think Whittingham made a big mistake at overlooking the patients. He's treated everyone as ifthey are nothing but an inconvenience, a charity case he can use to his advantage. But they are smart—hyper aware and vigilant because of their trauma. And with patients missing, people are starting to connect the dots.
We're not the real villains.
Speaking of which, as the days continue to pass by, I'm getting more agitated at our lack of access to downstairs. We still haven't been able to access the stairwell or figure out the code, even with the extra-access staff card. Damon has tried every combination he can think of in relation to his mother, but so far, we've come up empty handed.
At least we have the blowtorch but that's going to take some planning. With the guards wandering around, looking for trouble, we've only got a short window to act. One chance to save our friends. If it goes wrong, then they could end up like Leah…
Knowing what I went through downstairs, and how volatile things are, my imagination runs wild with possibilities and scenarios, just picturing what they could be going through. Two more patients have been counted as missing, and vomit threatens to rise every time I wonder if it's because our fellow peers aren't with us anymore.
Are they replacing test subjects? Or just expanding operations? Both are indescribable options.
When we enter the hall, I do a quick scan of the room, patients lining up for lunch. My eyes fall onto the meek blonde sitting alone, and I turn to Damon, grabbing his hand.
"I'll be back. I need to go speak to her," I say quietly, though I have Grey and Theo's attention as well.
Damon follows the trajectory, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. He knows we have no reason to suspect her now, but this is more than just general Cirque des Morts business.
"Fine," he agrees.
Before I can step away, he catches me off guard, swooping me around until I'm dipped backwards. His lips fall onto mine, and there's a clatter of metal as food utensils are dropped in shock and awe.
I'd probably find it amusing if I wasn't so entranced by his kiss, my mind floating away into space.
It's not like Damon and I have hidden anything—holding hands in the corridor and him pinning me against walls in plain sight—but he's never publiclyclaimedme before.
Slowly, he breaks the kiss, standing me upright. My head is still woozy and I've barely started to recover when Grey flies in, swinging me around to heatedly kiss me as well.
Frigging Neanderthal.
Next to us, Damon makes a scoffing sound in his throat, clearly catching onto Grey's tactic too. He grins against my lips, pulling back only enough to whisper to me, "Can't let him have all the glory."
