Page 38 of Creeping Lily
The sound of my name in his voice detonates inside me. He knows me. Not just my face—my name. My skin goes cold.
“What do you want?” My voice is barely there.
His breath finds my ear, warm and invasive, curling into me like smoke. His voice is hoarse, frayed at the edges with something that sounds a lot like hunger. He smells like oud and leather, sandalwood layered over sharp pine. It’s intoxicating—familiar in a way that feels dangerous, like the scent itself could topple walls or ruin kingdoms.
A hand finds the small of my back. Light pressure, almost gentle. It’s a warning disguised as reassurance. His other hand skims down my side and clamps around my waist like he’s anchoring me there.
“What do I want?” His whisper drips with control. “What do you suppose I want, Lily?”
“I—I don’t know,” I stammer.
“I want you to be a good girl.My good girl.”
My good girl. The words slide under my skin like a blade.
“Who are you?”
“That’s not important.”
“How do you know my name?” I blurt, my voice cracking.
He presses forward until my spine protests against the wall. The message is clear: I talk too much. And for reasons I can’t make sense of, the fear begins to blur at the edges. Maybebecause I’ve been here before—in different corners, in different forms—expecting the worst.
“Lily.”
Just my name. But it’s heavy, soaked in something dark and claiming.
“Lily,” he breathes. “My Lily.”
His hand circles my throat, fingers tightening until I feel the thrum of my pulse against his palm. It’s not a choke. But it’s a promise. His touch is too familiar, too knowing. This isn’t chance. He’s thought about this. Planned it.
His hand slides down my spine, slow and deliberate, until it rests on the curve above my ass like it belongs there. I choke on the air, torn between wanting to shove him away and wanting to breathe him in just to understand why my body betrays me.
“Please…”
“Please what, Lily?”
“Please, what do you want?”
“I thought that was obvious.”
Tears sting my eyes, hot and humiliating. I can’t believe I’m here again—at someone’s mercy. The universe must have a sick sense of humor.
He grips my waist tighter, pulling me into him until I can feel every sharp ridge of his body pressing through the thin barrier of my dress.
“You’re mine, Lily. You always have been.”
“Wh… who?”
“My beautiful Lily.” His nose buries into my hair, inhaling me like I’m oxygen. His scent wraps around me, drowns me, makes me forget where I am for one disorienting second.
“Who are you?” I whisper.
“I’m your salvation,” he says, voice gravel and heat against my ear. “Your retribution. Your sin. Your penance.”
I shiver. His hand comes around to my throat again, pushingmy head back until his breath ghosts my temple. No matter how I tilt, I can’t catch his face—just that hood and the shadow inside it.
He crushes me into the wall one last time, lips dragging over the side of my neck in three slow, possessive kisses before hovering just above my mouth. I feel the ghost of a smile in the air between us. Then—he’s gone.
