Page 30 of Wicked Beasts
Dr. Shadow scoffs, a sudden shift darkening his demeanor as he dismisses my rising panic. A cold breeze sweeps through as he distances himself, the heat of our intimacy fading into a frightening chill. I realize, beneath the surface, there may be more to this complicated dynamic than I initially understood, and yet, despite their obvious differences, I can see the similarities between them.
Tristan does the same thing.Withdraws.
“He never talks to me anymore,” Dr. Shadow says as he drags his tongue against my wetness that coats his fingers. “I’ve no interest in sharinganythingwith him.”
“If the two of you don’t get along, why do you stay here?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me as I try to distract myself from what happened between us. I’m exceptionally aware of theexaggerated rise and fall of my breasts as I try to steady my breathing.
“He is still my blood, little rose.” He licks his lips as he strolls back over to me. “What he needsyoufor is what, I wonder? He’s a med student. What does he have you doing in the library so late at night?” His eyes linger down the front of my top and settle momentarily on my breasts. It’s chilly in the library, and I know my top is thin. “All alone…” His words imply sinister intent. I straighten my posture, attempting to regain some semblance of control.
“I’m his personal assistant,” I explain, trying to keep my voice level, though I don’t want to admit I was in the library of my own accord and not for work. “I help him with research, organization…sometimes…company.” I notice the way his eyes linger on my body and feel a sudden surge of self-consciousness, especially after what had just happened between us. “And what business is it of yours, anyway?” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest to shield myself from him. “You claim you have no interest in Tristan, but you’re poking around in his business.”
Dr. Shadow slowly lifts his gaze to meet mine.“As I said, he does not speak to me. Call it mere curiosity—I want to make sure he’s taking care of himself. He’s not well, you know.”
He’s not well.
The memory of Mortimer’s voice pierces through my thoughts.
I study Dr. Shadow’s face intently, searching for any hint of deception, but his expression remains inscrutable, a mask of cool indifference hiding whatever true emotions lie beneath.
“How serious is it?” I hesitate. “If you guys are so estranged, why do you care anyway?”
“Because he is still myblood, and I care what happens to him, even ifhedoes not want me to.” He moves closer, trapping me against the bookcase again. “Doyouhave a problem withthat?” he asks, his fingers finding my hips before he squeezes my behind with strong hands, hard enough to bruise me. I gasp at his strength, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through my body.
“No,” I say quietly, meeting his intense stare. “I just have concerns becauseIcare about him. Why don't you speak to each other?” I shift uncomfortably under his grip, acutely aware of the heat radiating from his body and the way his fingers dig into my flesh, pressing me against him. “What happened between you two?”
He licks his lips as he lets out a dark chuckle and points a wagging finger at me.
“You’re a nosy little one. My relationship with him is none of your concern—though I assure you, I wish nothing but the best for him. It ishewho wishes horrible things uponme. Tell me, darling Amara,” he says as he caresses my cheek, pushing strands of dark hair from my face. I flinch, torn between the comfort and unease his touch stirs within me. “How well do youknowhim? And how much does he keep hidden from you?”
His words strike a chord. I do know Tristan is secretive, but I’ve always attributed that to his introverted nature rather than malice. He seems far too kind and good natured to want to hurt me. Could it be a façade? Too good to be true?
He does seem too perfect.
“I…I don’t really know,” I confess, my voice barely audible as my brows furrow. “Tristan keeps a lot to himself, I know that, but surely he trusts me to some degree.”
A sinister smirk crosses his mouth. He leans closer and lets his lips brush against my ear once more. “If there’s one thing you need to know, know this: Tristan trustsno one.” He squeezes my waist hard as he forces open my thighs with his knee. “Don’t try to get close to him,” he says as his fingers graze the damp spot on my panties. “You’ll only get hurt.”
“He…he trusts me,” I insist weakly, trying to ignore the shivers his touch sends rippling through me that make my knees buckle, even as a part of me wonders if I am deluding myself. After all, why wouldheconfide in me? He barely even talks to me, and when he does, it’s cruel and dismissive. I feel a pang of longing. I want to be confided in, trusted, valued, needed. Is that so much to ask for?
“If he truly trusted you, why didn’t he tell you about his condition? Why didn’t he tell you about me?” he whispers, nuzzling his scruff against my neck as he strokes my clit, planting sensual kisses down toward my collarbone once more.
A shudder runs through my body as his fingers find my sensitive spot once more, stroking and circling with masterful skill. His words, however, cut deeper than any physical touch, striking at the core of my insecurities.
“You’re right,” I admit, my voice trembling with a mix of arousal and vulnerability. “If he trusted me, he would have confided in me.” I bite my lip, struggling to focus on the conversation despite the pleasure building within me. “But why should that matter to you? What do you gain from this?” Even as I ask, I can’t ignore the way my body continues to respond to his touch, the traitorous ache between my thighs growing with each passing second.
“Confide inme, little one. Let me help him. I’m the only one who can.” He continues to stroke me, slowly picking up speed as he kisses my neck.
I moan softly, my head falling back against the bookshelf as Dr. Shadow’s skilled fingers work their magic. His lips against my skin send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through my veins, making it increasingly difficult to concentrate.
“Help him?” I manage to gasp, my voice thick with desire. Despite my reservations, I find myself leaning into his touch and spreading my legs, craving more. My body betrays my mind,yearning for the pleasure I know he can provide. “If you truly want to help him, then why haven’t you approached him?” I ask, my words punctuated by soft moans as he continues his sensual assault. He coaxes me into silent obedience as he works his fingers faster, letting two slip back into me.
A sharp cry escapes my lips as his fingers plunge deep, filling me in a way that makes my toes curl. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, my body tensing.
“Oh, God,” I whimper, my hips bucking involuntarily against his hand.
Lost in the haze of lust, I forget about the questions lingering in my mind, the doubts and uncertainties that swirl around Tristan and his mysterious, carnal older brother. All that matters in this moment is the raw, primal need for release, for the sweet oblivion Dr. Shadow’s touch promises.
“Good girl,” he growls into my ear as he pumps his fingers faster. “Come for me again. Come all over my hand.”
