Page 48 of Silverproof Damsel

Rhys was the demon, as surely as the demon was Rhys.

When he pretended to be his demon, Rhys had a dark, sinful desire he craved to indulge in. When Rhys was, well, Rhys, he held more emotion, composure, and calmness on the surface, shielding everyone from the true nature he suppressed.

He’d cut himself into two different creatures. Two vastly different personas. One ruled his house, making them unsuspecting of the monster he truly was beneath the sophisticated veneer. The other slaked his insatiable lust on anyone brave enough to dance with the devil or, in this case, his inner demon.

Removing his shirt, I slid beneath the soft covers. Staring across the bed at his empty side, I felt the weight of the day pressing against me. So much occurred in such a short time. Instead of a matter of days, it felt as if the attack at my house had been weeks ago.

I needed to look at the good things unfolding from the negative.

Nyx hadn’t died. She was healing under Acyn’s watchful, lustful eye. He’d given me hope.

Whoever had tried to frame me for killing Nyota had failed. They hadn’t failed in impeding me, but at least they hadn’t been successful in killing us. Though I was thankful they’d failed to murder either of us, it still irked me that they’d sought to pit me against the Van Helsings, yet again. Rhys’ healers were renowned in this community for their adept skills in healing and stealing victims from death’s cold, merciless clutches. She was in the best hands out there.

The biggest win today?

I was safe, or as safe as I could be.

He’d locked me in his wing of the mansion. No one could hurt me here. Not unless Rhys removed his vow of protection. Or worse, he chose to harm me himself. Somehow, I didn’t think he’d hurt me.

Rhys Van Helsing was many things, but he wasn’tthatsadistic. He’d never purposely hurt me like that. He could choose from many things to inflict pain, but he’d never raise a hand against me. That part of his chivalry and personality wasn’ta ploy. It just wasn’t in him to harm a woman whom he’d cared for.

In his own way, Rhys cared about me during our time together. Even knowing who my mother was, he still held emotion for me in his heart. The hunger burning in the endless azure depths wasn’t a ploy. It wasn’t fake, nor intended to lure me into a trap. It was a ravenous need, threatening to leave me in nothing more than cinders and soot when it was finally freed from the reins that he tightly gripped.

Closing my eyes, I exhaled the stress as I inhaled his soothing, intoxicating scent. I didn’t need to turn and look to know he’d entered the chamber. I felt his eyes burning the flesh of my uncovered back that had lost the security of the blankets as I relaxed into the mattress.

Why was it that the things we desired most ended up being the things that destroyed us? Rhys held an unimaginable power over me. Not that I’d ever have told him or allowed him to know just how strong the pull to allow him to be the ruination of my soul had become. I’d never willingly hand him that knowledge from the moment I did, he’d know exactly how deep he’d cut me open.

Chapter Twenty-One

Sleepclungheavilytomy consciousness. The first sense to rouse caught his masculine scent drifting through the chamber. Next, I felt his hard, muscular frame against softer curves. The sensation of his feverish breath wafting against my throat and shoulder elicited goosebumps that spread over my body.

In the stillness of the room, I swallowed down the moan of need swelling in my throat. We were naked in bed, with his body tangled with mine. His palm was petting my naked flesh, issuing wetness to drench my entrance.

My entire body came alive, identical to a live wire battering against the ground during a storm. I was aroused to a physical ached that sat deep in the pit of my abdomen. One finger slid through the wetness between my thighs, pushing against my entrance questioningly.

“How long do you plan to pretend you’re asleep, Love?” Rhys’ sleepy, raspy tone caused a deluge of arousal to rush straight to my core.

Instead of answering his words, I wordlessly responded to his request. Parting my thighs, I allowed the bastard access to my swollen center. Without hesitation, he thrust his finger to his knuckle deep inside my wetness.

“Bloody hell. Already so fucking wet for me,” he moaned raspily as he slowly began fucking me with his hand. A needy whimper expelled from my lungs as he dragged his feverish lips over my throat, kissing a path to my heavy breast. “Such a good girl.” In one well practiced move, he had me flat on my back with him hovering over my frame.

“Shut up and make me come.” My demand had his eyes igniting with wicked passion scintillating within them.

“Is it like that, then?” he queried, but, if he’d expected an answer, I wasn’t sure. Two fingers thrust between my thighs, forcing the walls of my pussy to clench down around their penetration. His thumb worked well practiced circles against my clit, creating a ball of tension and a need to form in my lower abdomen.

“Harder,” I growled through the heaviness of sleep that still gripped my mind.

“This pussy is so fucking wet for me. You’re so fucking tight around my fingers. It’s going to feel divine as it stretches to take all this cock. Is that what you want from me? To be fucked until you’re nothing more than a sore, shaky, satisfied mess?” His fingers curled, striking against the one place he had ever touched within me. “Answer me.”

“Yes. Ruin me, Van Helsing.”

It was all the encouragement he needed. Rhys slowly lifted, then moved his body up, hovering it over mine. Instead of pressing his weight against my flesh, he lowered his eyes, studying the way my pussy looked as he continuously fucked it with his hand.

“Your cunt is swollen with need, Silversmith. Those beautiful copper curls are soaked with your sweet arousal.” Without asking, Rhys crawled back. Then, his mouth attacked my exposed core with rampant carnal hunger.

His hands lowered, pushing my thighs apart until he placed them over his wide, powerful shoulders. Using his tongue, he flicked my clit repeatedly. Pleasure surged through my veins like he’d injected it through a syringe.

The moment he focused on my entrance, I screamed wantonly as he licked around it as if it were a bullseye he’d intended to assault. Fingers slid to my lower lips, gently parting them as he continued licking, kissing, and ravishing my core like a deranged beast who’d found his first meal after a famine.

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