Page 36 of Death Comes for Her
“Shut up.” My eyes narrowed at him. “Shut the fuck up, you undead bastard!” My arm flung over him, and the dagger pierced into his shoulder.
“Fuck!” He roared. “You fairy bitch.” Those unhinged hazel eyes rolled back in his head. He thrusted harder, fucking me into the floor. And when his mouth smashed into mine, claiming me and my air, I wanted to erupt.
Burning.
Dante dipped his head and sank his teeth into my neck. His venom erupted through my blood and gold spilled into his mouth. I tightened my grip on the dagger, twisting in his shoulder.
It spurred him on, encouraging him to snap his hips with increasing vigor, as if he needed to split me in half. He enjoyed the pain, and he savored my blood, and he lavished in the wet heat of my cunt gripping him like a vise.
He pawed at my breasts, tweaking my nipples. Bliss fluttered through my stomach with each rough touch from his calloused hands. The undead took from me and I accepted, taking in return. Two unbalanced creatures finding a joint frenzy of pleasure, bound by blood and venom.
The venom coiled low in my belly, worsening the enthralling sensations sweeping through my insides. Dante rocked against me in such a way that my inner walls and clit were targeted,enticed. The mix of pleasure and pain surged low and hot inside me, and I came undone, shaking and whimpering.
Burning.
“Look at how pretty you are coming on vampire cock, lovely fairy whore. Such a good whore for me, aren’t you?” His words made my stomach quiver, and I yanked the dagger from his flesh. He groaned, and it must have been the pain and my fluttering walls milking him that sent him over the edge.
Of course, he liked the pain, the masochistic bastard.
Dante hovered over me, still half-hard inside of me. Several huffed breaths stretched the silence as the hysteria of the moment passed. The afterglow of an orgasm lingered under my skin thanks to the venom, leaving me in an odd pool of satisfied delirium.
Something unreadable flashed in his eyes. Somewhere far away yet all too close, the frantic shouts of concerned servants bounced off the walls. The fact there was an active fire raging in part of the manor crashed down on my mind, startling me from the odd liminal space Dante and I had temporarily hovered in. Not quite a truce, but something tense and raw and wild.
He caught my chin and lifted my face. His lips sealed to mine, intermingling the fresh golden blood on his mouth with the drying vampire blood on mine. The kiss was rough, claiming, and punishing, as he bit my bottom lip and shoved his tongue into my mouth.
Dante’s hands were stained with unfathomable amounts of blood, yet he cradled my face with misleading tenderness.
Burning.
When he broke away, he avoided looking at me. Even as he hooked a meaty hand around my arm and hefted me off the ground. My knees wobbled and my inner thighs were sticky with our combined release. The vampire didn’t say a word as he dragged me down the halls to my room.
Hazel eyes full of treacherous wanting, and darkness noted the dagger still protectively clutched in my hand. His upper lip curled in a snarl before he slammed the door behind him.
When I tried twisting the handle, I found it locked from the outside. And I was truly caged at that time. Yet I dropped my head back and the manic laughter returned.
And I laughed and laughed until my chest ached and the laughter turned into chest-wrecking sobs that left me breathless. I cried glittering tears of gold, clutching the dagger to my chest, to the hollow place where my heart once belonged and lamented over being trapped.
Only the comfort that Mother received the last rite she deserved softened my misery. And all the while, everything burned.
Chapter 12
A week later, still confined to my room, Imani informed me that the fire had completely destroyed Dante’s office and the neighboring rooms. That wing of the manor left uninhabitable for the time being. A flutter of triumph moved through me at the news, and I tucked into my meal gladly.
It didn’t surprise me as much as it might have that Dante had locked my door from the outside. I’d enjoyed unheard of freedom in my captivity, and I couldn’t expect not to face consequences for my actions. Though they were justified in my eyes, I couldn’t fathom the Ambrose lords’ understanding of my endeavors.
What surprised me more than anything was that I still possessed the dagger. Dante hadn’t taken it back when he’d abandoned me to assist with putting out the fire. He’d fucked me brutally into the floor, then locked me away, leaving me with my ill-begotten—but rightfully mine—consolation prize.
Crim wove through Imani’s feet as she went about the room, idly chatting. Several times she hissed at the cat, nearly tripping her before going right back to her tasks. She put away another set of new dresses in the wardrobe, and I briefly wondered where they came from.
“… the fire wasn’t near the guest rooms, so I don’t imagine they’ll set the date back…”
“Understandable,” I mumbled, fiddling with the pages of the book in my lap.
“Cleaning up has been taking a while, but things are going well.” As Imani rambled on about the excitement after the fire and rumors surrounding an upcoming event, I let my mind drift.
Dante and Simon’s venom and the heat of our encounter had exhausted me. I’d slept for almost two days before waking up in some fucked up fever dream, wandering through the manor and set fire to the office, releasing Mother’s wings to the embrace of flames. Dante found me, chased me through the manor, and rutted me into the floor.
Why didn’t he take the dagger back? It had been a week of silence from both vampires…
