Page 74 of Corrupt Shadows

“No.”

My knees scrape against the stone, and the skirt of my black dress billows out around me. His shadows slide down me, caressing the fabric. “You only worship me, Evie. You belong to me. If you want to smoke, if you want anything, then you will fucking earn it.” His shadows slice through my dress, tearing the lace to shreds. Pieces slip down my skin, forming piles around my knees and legs. “You. Are. Mine.”

My lips part. His words reach somewhere deep, nestling in my chest. But with him, I’m a monster.

He kneels, his nose mere inches from mine. He averts his gaze to my hair, sliding his fingers through the silky strands. “Even your hair is the color of my shadows.”

My breath catches, and he lets my hair fall back over my chest.

“I am not yours,” I reply, hating that his comment evoked butterflies. Fucking butterflies. He’s the thing nightmares are made from. He stalked me, lied, and manipulated. He killed Jay and kidnapped me. I hate him to the depth of my bones, yet I can’t help but draw closer to his lips. Even his smell intoxicates me. I breathe in the musky, woody notes lingering on his hair and can’t help but imagine running my hands through his tousled waves.

He smirks as if sensing my every thought, making me despise him more. “We’ll fucking see.” Shadows bind my wrists, and he leans over, his eyes alight with menace. Everything in them reminds me of a psychopath, so why do I want them to soften when he looks at me?

He tugs the belt until each breath is a struggle.

His shadows pierce into my breast, pricking through my skin. I scream, and he chuckles darkly. I manage to look down. Ink trickles over my chest in thick, hot drips. I clench my teeth, the burning sensation the same as when my tattoos grow.

Panic widens my eyes. The letter M appears on the top of my right breast.

“Stop,” I beg, but he presses his palm to my lips, muffling any protest. I realize he’s tattooing me with his shadows, and his bedroom eyes are locked onto mine the entire time.

Less than a minute later, the burning on my chest dissolves, and the ink disappears with his shadows.

He leans down to admire the work of his shadows. His mouth unfurls into a sadistic smirk, and I look down at the tattoo. Mine. It’s the second marking, branding me forever. Just like the roses showing I’m a witch.

My body is a tapestry of both of my masters, death magic and now him.

I wet my lips and stare at him. Untapped power swirls behind those green eyes spilling with evil. He presses his thumb against the fleshy inside of my lip and drags it down. “You’re bleeding,” he says breathily, then presses his fingers against my nipple, using the blood to moisten my hard peak. He twists the flesh, coaxing a moan from me.

“Good girl.” He pinches harder, eliciting a second, louder moan. He shrugs his pants down, pulling out his length in his free hand. He squeezes the tattoo he just permanently marked from shadows, and I yelp, coating his palm and fingers in blood.

My eyes roll back as the residual pain from the tattoo mixes with pleasure. When I find him in my haze, he’s spreading my blood over the throbbing head of his cock.

“Oh, God.”

Anger flashes in his expression, and the room seems to heat a few degrees. “The next time you scream for God,” he warns, “I’ll fuck you until you forget all names but mine.”

Challenge threads in his stare and I smirk, just a little.

He tilts my chin with his thumb and brings his enormous dick to my lips. “Now, give me that pretty pout.”

I’m not even sure how I’d fit all that in my mouth.

The fear in my eyes only excites him. My shadows dance, and my wetness soaks through my panties. The pain over my breast tips me closer to the edge of an orgasm. He drags the tip along my lips and fists my hair. I glide my tongue over the glistening pre-cum and blood, and my clit throbs.

I close my lips around him, tasting my blood against my tongue. He’s definitely too big for my mouth.

Slowly I trace my tongue down his shaft, alternating between gentle licks and soft sucks. He fists my hair, then injects himself to the back of my throat. I gag against the head, and he groans. His shaft throbs in my mouth.

“That’s my girl,” he says, and I suck harder, as an innate desire to please him fills me up.

His body writhes under my touch, and a long, low moan escapes his lips. He guides each movement, pushing himself deeper into my mouth, as he fucks my face.

He thrusts his hips with reckless abandon, and I moan against his length as wetness drips between my legs. The vibration shooting up his shaft pulls a second moan from him, and my body pulses with energy.

“Fuck, Evie. I can smell your arousal.”

My shadows curl out from my chest and stomach and wrap around him, pulling him deeper. Shock widens my eyes.

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