Page 39 of Alien Devil's Wrath
But panic room construction held firm. The door didn’t dent. We’d have time.
She pulled back enough to meet my gaze. Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, but focused. Not lost to lust—calculated. She framed my face, thumbs tracing my jaw until finding fangs. They were already extended—had been since seeing those throat bruises.
“You know what I want.” Voice steady despite chaos outside, despite another door impact. “What I’ve wanted since understanding what you could give me.”
Her thumb pressed against one fang until a drop of blood welled. She brought it to her mouth, sucked it off while maintaining eye contact. The gesture sent possession roaring through me.
“Stop protecting me, Zarek.” She rolled her hips, and we both gasped. I was hard, had been since she’d kissed me, and she ground against me through clothes. “Make me your weapon. Make me yours.”
Another impact. The door held—breaking through blast-proof construction would take hours. Hours we could use.
BRONWEN
The door shuddered again. Whatever battering ram they’d found was heavy—probably a destroyed console. But the panic room construction held. Metal didn’t even groan. Slade had built this room to survive anything short of ship-grade weapons.
Good. I wasn’t letting urgency ruin this moment I’d craved since first seeing him bleeding in the wasteland.
I shifted on Slade’s desk, polished wood cool against my thighs where torn pants had ridden up. The expensive surface would be ruined when we finished. The thought sent heat straight through me. Zarek stood between my spread legs, his whole body taut as need and restraint warred. His touch spanned my waist, pressing hard enough to mark. Ten bruises that would last until his real mark replaced them.
“This isn’t about pleasure.” My voice came out breathy. My body already responded—nipples hard against torn shirt, pussy clenching, wet just from having him close. From smelling him—male and violence and mine. “This is about winning. Becoming something they can’t break or contain.”
His grip tightened. Tomorrow I’d have bruises shaped exactly like his hands. The thought made me clench again.
“You’re seducing me into biting you.”
“Successfully.” I rolled my hips slowly, feeling the hard length of him through layers between us. The friction made us both groan. His control slipped another notch. “You need me at full strength to kill Slade properly. To make it last.” Another hip roll, grinding harder. “Stop pretending this is protection when it’s possession. Making me yours so everyone will know who I belong to.”
Another door impact. Still no damage. Blast-proof indeed.
I grabbed his torn shirt and pulled him down. This kiss was different—calculated seduction mixed with genuine need. I bit his lower lip until blood welled, then sucked, pulling copper into my mouth. Then traced my tongue along his fangs—fully extended, sharp enough to pierce. The danger made my pussy clench.
“You’ve wanted this since the cave.” My touch worked at clothes, needing skin. “When I asked about claiming and you got angry. But it wasn’t anger.” His shirt came apart, fabric already weakened. “It was want. You imagined it. Sinking fangs into me. Marking me forever.”
His shirt fell, revealing grey skin marked with wounds slowly healing. Some already closed, just pink lines fading. Others still gaped. I traced each, learning the map of violence. Then followed with my mouth, tasting copper and salt and him. His muscles tensed under exploration, breathing rougher.
“You were furious I saw it as an upgrade.” I pulled back, still exploring his chest. “But also aroused. I could smell it. That warm musk. The thought of marking me made you hard.”
“Bronwen—” His voice wrecked, more growl than speech.
“I’m right.” I pulled my shirt overhead. Fabric caught on hair, and I yanked free. No bra—lost during guards’ handling. His gaze went black with want. “You’ve thought about it. How I’dlook with your marks. Silver traceries. The bond snapping into place.”
I found his belt, working it open. Not fear making me shake—anticipation so intense it made me lightheaded.
“You held back thinking I don’t understand.” Belt came free. I worked his pants down. “But I do. I know it’s permanent. Genetic change. DNA rewrite. Not quite human after.” His pants fell, cock springing free. The broad triangular head already slick. Those soft flanges along the shaft fluttered, responsive. “I know it binds us. Physically, mentally, every way. I’ll feel what you feel.”
I wrapped my hand around him and stroked, watching control fracture. The flanges created incredible texture under my palm.
“I want it because of that.” I released him and worked my own pants off quickly. “Want to be your equal. Stand beside you hunting. Be strong enough to protect you too.”
Pants hit floor. I was bare on the desk, sprawled across expensive wood. When I spread wider, showing how wet I was, he made a sound of pure need.
“Look.” I showed him everything. “Already yours. Since I saved you from Stalkers. Since trusting me in caves.” I touched myself, moaning. “The bite makes it official.”
He moved between my thighs, broad head pressing my entrance. Not pushing yet—just pressure and promise. Flanges brushed sensitive flesh, making me gasp.
“When you do this—” My moan as he pushed the head inside cut off my words, the stretch intense and perfect. “Because you will. You need to. It’s inevitable.”
I clenched, and his control cracked. He pushed deeper, flanges creating friction that made stars burst behind my eyes.
