Page 19 of The Devil of London

My lips trembled as tears pricked my eyes. “Go to hell.”

“Hell would seem pleasant compared to what I found inside that hellish prison they held you in. The pain of your sobs tore at my flesh until I felt flayed alive. I ensured they felt my wrath, even as you slaughtered them, dressed only in your madness. You were beautiful and terrifying in your bloodlust.”

“I don’t recall the events after you released me,” I lied. I lied because I remembered the popping sound their heads made against the concrete floors. The gurgling noise the nurse made as I’d shoved the electrical phallus down her throat before turning it on to the highest setting.

She’d done it to Cora, who’d been my cellmate. I could still smell the rivers of blood that had run through the hallways as, one by one, we’d slaughtered every creature who’d been present on the day they’d come for me. But eventually, I had turned on them too.

“Tell me what they did to you,” he whispered so softly I had to strain to hear the words. “I need to know where to kiss the terrors away.”

“Unless you can fix my soul, you’ll not remove their insufferable grip on my memories,” I replied in a shaky tone.

“Fucking watch me,” he growled as his mouth closed the distance between mine.

The moment our lips touched, it forced electricity to fire down my frame and into the fissures they’d created. Khaos’s tongue slipped against my lips, and I knew that opening to him was dangerously irresponsible, but I did so anyway. His hands slid around the small of my back, and he jerked me flush against his body as my head tilted, offering him deeper access to plunder my mouth. Khaos slid his tongue against mine, coaxing it into the fray. Licking against his, I moaned as my arms abandoned the wall, slipping around his neck to force him closer against my kiss. He tasted like every dark sinful fantasy I’d ever had, but even more terrifying was that he was the star who played in them as well.

By the time he pulled from the kiss, I was panting for air. My entire body was feverish with need, sensitive against his hands, which slowly dipped between my thighs, roving small circles against my swollen clit with expertise. Khaos knew exactly what made my body sing with pleasure. He’d mastered every part of me like the finest artist and poet. A finger slid teasingly through my slit. Every stroke sinful enough to tempt a saint into sinning. He groaned as he thrust his finger into my cunt and it clenched down around him.

“Fucking hell, brat. This is mine. Tell me it’s mine.”

“Fuck you,” I moaned, and he forced another finger into my opening, pushing deeper yet.

“I can stop if you prefer?” he taunted, knowing I’d cave. Break the celibacy of the last fifty years, or take a ding to my pride? It was both, really. I’d starved myself of pleasure because it reminded me of him. But now that I was here, with him, like this? I was willing to take the ding to my pride to feel him.

“It’s yours, bastard,” I whirred before I gasped as his hand cradled my throat.

“You’ll look me in the eye as this pussy makes a mess all over my fingers,” he demanded, and his thumb began vigorously rubbing circles over my clit. He gave me just the right amount of pressure to force my body to bow to his touch. Lowering my hand, I fisted his cock, reveling in the pained look that tightened his features.

“You’re coming with me, asshole.”

“Keep calling me filthy names, and this’ll get darker than either of us intends it to, Miss Caine.” The smile that had been playing on my lips fell away as he began pistoning his hips, fucking my fist. “Want to race?”

“Hell no,” I whimpered as the first spasms began rushing through me and my knees gave out. “Oh, fuck!”

Khaos caught me, pushing me against the wall where he pinned me. His hand on my throat pressed hard enough to have light bursting into my vision, blinding me. The violent shake of my body was terrifying because it actually felt as if I were having a seizure or enduring an exorcism. The sound of his smug, masculine laughter danced in my ears as euphoria erupted through every nerve ending. My muscles locked under the convulsive waves that gripped me, rippling never-ending pleasure through every part of my body. The soul-shattering orgasm robbed me of coherency, save for the feel of the hard, silken cock spewing hot come onto my belly.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “For fuck’s sake, you almost made me come before you, pretty slut.” Blinking away the kaleidoscope of prisms bursting in my eyes, I whimpered. Khaos reached for the soap, but as his mouth neared, he placed a soft kiss against my forehead. “Now hold still so I can bathe you properly. Afterward, you’re crawling your ass back to my bed. It’s three in the fucking morning, woman.”

“Fine,” I whispered blissfully, ignorant of anything else. I’d needed that more than I’d realized. Tomorrow was soon enough to return to being enemies. Tonight, I’d play his unwilling guest as long as his powerful hands massaged the tension from my body.

Chapter Eight

Khaos

Thedeliciousscentofwatermelons, sugar, and lemonade drifted from the woman slumbering in my bed. Aderyn was my drug of choice. Like heroin, she hummed through my veins, filling me with adrenaline, hope, and ecstasy. She fought me so hard, but it mattered little. The Fates forced us together time and time again.

I hated that her dreams were filled with horrors from when I’d failed to protect her. We had thought she had perished, as she’d done many times before. Both Merikh and I had sat beside her unmoving corpse for over an entire month while hunters had fought to steal her from me. Only when she had begun decomposing had, we agreed to bury her corpse in a hidden grave deep within the bayou of Louisiana. I’d been prepared to uproot everything to rush to whichever continent she’d be born on next.

Whatever the hunters had done to Aderyn when they’d captured her, it had altered her, and when she died that time, she hadn’t stayed dead. It was as if they had forced her into a strange, new stage of existing. She’d awoken inside that wooden box and clawed her way out of the earthen tomb I’d placed her in.

And when she emerged?

She’d changed.

Aderyn hadn’t lost her memory, but it had been altered. I had become the enemy once more, which I’d been fine playing. It kept our curses from igniting and us seeking to end one another. From what we had learned from her broken, disjointed retelling before she’d abandoned us, she’d walked into the French Quarter, and there, they’d detained her for hysterics. But if she had been arrested, I would have known. I’d personally placed eyes on every fucking corner of the Quarter to know when the hunters who’d captured her slithered out of the shadows.

I’d discovered the hunters’ encampment, which had been nothing but skeletal remains. It looked as if a wild animal had torn the hunters to pieces and scattered them throughout the bayou. But I’d scented the cold, merciless tang of magic drifting on the breeze and in the swamps. Aderyn’s magic held the gentle perfume of her soul, which had been undeniable.

Watermelons, lemonade, and sugar. Uniquely hers and addicting as fuck.

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