Page 90 of Black Castle

His chest rises and falls in ragged gasps, his lips tracing soft, reverent kisses along her collarbone.

He sounds drunk, high, when he murmurs, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t. You—you felt so good.”

His head tilts up, his lips barely brushing hers before he devours her in a kiss again.

It’s slow, deep, consuming. It’s a brand, a claim, a worship.

He tastes like sin, like euphoria, like something she will never get enough of.

“Vivienne.” His voice is soft, rough around the edges. And she feels it, the hardening inside her, the slow throb of his cock already stirring back to life.

A rush of heat pulls low in her body. She should be exhausted. She did this all night. Then the early hours of the morning. She should want to rest.

But she doesn’t.

She wants more. She wants all of him.

“Vivienne?” he calls again, his arms tightening around her body, pressing her flushed against his own.

“Snow white?” she breathes, her fingers tracing his sharp jawline, the curve of his lips, the ridges of his cheekbones.

She feels so drunk on him. Addicted. Obsessed.

He swallows hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “I—I want you all to myself. Can you be mine? All mine?”

Something tightens in her chest. An impossible request. A dangerous one.

“Okay,” she whispers against his lips, her hip rolling, squeezing around him, chasing the high all over again. “I can be yours. All yours, Snow white.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

Lucan

Lucan needs to protect his Vivienne. Because for the first time in his life, he feels something, something so profound and so deep it threatens to shatter the ground he stands upon. Something so raw and so passionate, it makes it hard for him to breathe, and breathing seems hard when he isn’t thinking about her.

Because for the first time in his life, he wants to please someone, to live for someone, to laugh for someone…be with someone.

He can’t be without her. But he might end up without her if Zev remains in the picture. And he can’t afford to lose her.

Sacrifices need to be made.

He needs to get rid of his twin brother. And he’s ready to go to any length to suck all the strength from Zev and silence his voice for good.

Even if it means sitting in the quaint office of a shrink at 12 noon.

“Before we start, I need you to know that you are safe here.” The woman sitting across from him says, her voice calm and clinical as she stares with understanding at Lucan’s whitening knuckles.

Her name, according to what Lucan found online, is Sasha Lachowksi. She’s in her early thirties, has a Siberian husky named Pluto, and a cat called Paris.

No matter how hard the woman tries to make Lucan feel comfortable, he can’t help it. He has had his hands clasped tightly over his knees since he came in, looking around like there are dangers lurking in the shadows, waiting to leap out and attack the moment he relaxes.

“And you don’t have to talk yet, either.” She watches him attentively, a warm smile touching the corners of her lips as she scribbles something into her notepad. “Let’s just start with your name.”

Lucan raises a brow. “My name?”

Sasha Lachowksi nods gently. “I know I have your name on my notepad right now. And I have spoken to you over the phone for the past twenty-four hours. Still, I want to hear you say your name.”

Lucan exhales sharply, drumming his fingers on his thigh. “Lucan Raskovic.”

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