Page 36 of Bones

That’s all it takes for her to fly over the edge, her head flying back, her blonde hair wild around her.

“Fu-fucking Hell, Sloan,” I grit, her pussy’s spasms triggering my own. My fingers are going to leave bruises on her hips from my grip, but I don’t let go, keeping her in place as I fuck up into her like a beast. I keep my eyes glued to where I fill her, my thrusts punishing as I chase down my orgasm while her pussy drips and squeezes me. My mate’s scream cuts off, pleasure wracking her body as I never stop circling her clit. I’ll never have enough of her pleasure.

Her back bows as hot liquid gushes out around my cock and my eyes roll to the back of my head at how fucking tight her body becomes. Both holes clamp down, threatening to break me in two. My climax threatens to peak and I yank her down on my cock, grinding up against her while the instant stretches to infinity. A roar rips from my throat as reality snaps around me.

My cum jets from me, lashing her pulsating pussy, filling her even as I start fucking into her again, desperate for more.

“Bones.” My mate’s cry is the only sound in the world.

“Mine,” I roar, claiming her mouth, biting her lower lip until the metallic tang of blood fills my mouth.

She kisses me back, just as hard, just as rough, and the possessiveness in it sets off something inside me.

We kiss each other desperately, as if we’ll never have another chance, our tongues fighting for dominance.

My thrusts slow, turn languid until I finally stop. I keep most of my weight braced on my forearms on either side of Sloan, but she’s as greedy as I am. She keeps herself wrapped round me, her hands clutching the middle of my back and her feet hooked behind my knees. I rest my forehead on hers, breathing her in. I’m tempted to beg her for her freely offered soul; to bind her to me for eternity. My soul might be in tatters but her presence fills those empty spaces--making me feel whole for the first time in centuries.

Sloan’s fingers stroke my back, whispering over my scars with such gentleness that I shudder over her. She’s stroking the evidence of my sins, like she would erase them if she could.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Her smokey voice is huskier than normal and I can’t help my masculine pride at knowing I’m the reason she sounds well-fucked.

I dip my face, sipping at her lips in quiet kisses before sliding out of her. I roll to my back beside her, curling my arm around her and tucking her against my side. Sloan comes without hesitation, affection and quiet concern echoing down our mating bond, as she pillows her head on my chest and tosses one leg over mine. Like this, it’s a reminder of how much smaller she isthan me even in this human form. How fragile her body is and how easily it would be to hurt her.

I bury my face against her wild blonde hair, fortifying myself against the truth I’m about the reveal. Fuck, I’d rather be facing down Prince Tol’vazir. Being executed at his feet would be more merciful if Sloan rejects me.

Do I start with an apology? Do I swear to her that I’m not the male I was then? How do you tell the woman you’ve come to love more than life itself that you have more in common with her abusers than she realizes?

“I’m one thousand eight hundred and forty years old, roughly,” I begin before clearing my throat. Sloan says nothing, but I know I have her complete attention. I focus on the steady metronome of her heart beat. “In my old world, a demon doesn’t have many options. Your life and role are determined by what circle you’re born into. From the moment I was born, I was destined to be a soldier in a prince’s army. I joined Prince Tol’vazir’s army when I was fifty years old as was expected of me.”

Memories of those years aren’t awful. I was grateful for the position; no longer would I have to struggle for the next meal, question where I was to sleep that night, or worry about being set upon by one of the many creatures that prowled the wilds of Hell. Sloan doesn’t need the boring recounting of those years. Telling her about those years would be nothing but delaying the inevitable.

I stare up at the ceiling as I begin to bare my heart to my mate, bracing myself for the moment she plunges a blade into the organ.

“I worked my way up the ranks as my abilities developed and strengthened. I control bones, living or dead. I can’t bring the dead back to life like this world’s expectation of necromancy. Necromancy is the best way to explain my abilities.” I grit my teeth and force myself to keep speaking. “I don’t know how the prince heard of my abilities, but after a few hundred years I found myself in his favor. He... he showered those he liked with every indulgence you could think of. For someone who came from nothing, to suddenly have the love of one oftheprinces of hell? There was nothing I wouldn’t do for him. There was nothing I didn’t do.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, like I could find refuge in the dark behind my lids. Except I know better.

Sloan’s fingers begin to rub small circles on my chest, a gentle encouragement I don’t deserve. Irrational anger heats my blood.

“When Tol’vazir asked for my help interrogating his enemies, I wasn’t just willing. I was excited.” She stiffens under me. From my words or the building anger in them, I don’t know. I slam a barrier between us; too cowardly to experience her growing horror through it. “If he wanted someone broken, I’d break them. I’d use my powers to pull their bones apart, slide them from their flesh; make them contort or break in horrifying ways. The more I did it, the more he rewarded me. Until I didn’t care about the rewards. I began to enjoy it. To fucking love watching a creature break under my power. I’d draw it out, for no other reason than I didn’t want it over too soon.”

Nausea roils my stomach, my guts twisting into double knots.

“Then, when they would no longer be of use, I’d eat their souls. Each one added to my power even as my own soul was being cracked away under their weight.”

Even now, I feel the souls pressing down on my shoulders. Their anger and thirst for revenge is putrid in my mind, a constant reminder that no matter how much good I do, I will never atone enough.

Emotionally, I fall to my knees before Sloan. My eyes burn, my throat so tight I struggle to breathe.

“I am no better than Xavius. I’m a monster, worse than him in my crimes. I’ve spent centuries enjoying causing the torment and death of others. Breaking those Tol’vazir wanted to use as weapons.”

My words choke off, my throat too tight from shame to say any more. What is there to say? I know there’s nothing I can say to convince her to stay with me, to keep loving me, to forgive me. I can’t even forgive myself.

I can only wait, the echoes of a death knell haunting the silence between heart beats, for her to put me out of my misery.

22

SLOAN

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