Page 43 of Aberrant Monsters
His eyes narrowed and he lashed out, grabbing me by the throat and hauling me toward him. “Is this what you want? Isthiswhat you prefer? Fear, horror, the monster.Hmmm?” He pressed the pad of his thumb into my mouth, salty and calloused against my tongue, and it took everything I had not to suck on it. “You want me totakeso that you don’t have togive, so that you can feel less like a freak for wanting it.”
He released me suddenly and I lay gasping on the bed, stomach in knots that weren’t necessarily related to terror.
He inhaled and shook his head, lip curling. “I could take you now. Bury my cock inside your tight, wet cunt, and you would turn your head to the side and take it.”
The imagery sent a fresh ripple through my core.
My breath hitched. “Don’t.”
“You’d milk my cock, tearing every ounce of pleasure from it to feed the monster growing insideyou, and when it was over, you’d explain it away as an effect of this binding. An aberrant moment just like the aberration connected to you.”
I stared at him in horror because he was right. Every fucking word was true.
Shame of a different kind hugged my neck now. “I’m sorry.”
The room grew lighter and Telarion lost form, sinking down toward me and into my body.
I arched at the invasion, then waited, chest heaving, while he settled.
I’m sorry, I repeated. This. Us. It’s a mess as it is; adding gratification to the mix blurs the boundaries. You might need blood from time to time and I…I have my own issues, but we can’t use one another. I’ll bag my blood for your consumption.
But Telarion didn’t respond, and after several long seconds of waiting, I gave up, rolled over, and closed my eyes. There were still a couple of hours before training and I needed to be rested.
* * *
Quentin had commandeeredthe dining room for training purposes. It was called the dining room but there was no table or chairs to make it so, but sometime in the night, Quentin had given the place a sweep, dusted, opened the dreary drapes to let in the sunlight, and set up a trestle table laid out with what I assumed were rift walker items and weapons. An empty leather backpack sat by the table.
My handler stood with his back to the room, staring out the window at the gravel drive. A brisk wind had blown nearby leaves onto the gravel and played with them, lifting them up and creating mini tornadoes.
He didn’t register my presence until I was abreast of him, and then he started and looked down at me with a frown as if I was an unwelcome distraction from the view.
I arched a brow. “Reporting for training.”
His frown melted. “You’re on time. Good.”
I grinned up at him. “Miss Punctuality, that’s me.”
He smiled and it softened his austere features. “In that case, we shall get along just fine.”
“Does that matter?”
“What do you mean?”
“Does it matter if we get along. I mean, you’re here temporarily, right. We get the jobs done and that’s it. What does it matter if we get on?”
He tipped his head to one side and narrowed his eyes. “You aren’t my first charge, August. My last was a complete wanker.” A ghost of a smile played on his lips as he recycled my description of him. “And that’s putting it mildly. Argumentative, disobedient, challenging me at every turn over the most inconsequential things. Trust me, working together, however temporary, is always more pleasant if the parties involved get along.”
“What happened to him?”
He shrugged. “He ended up possessed by an aberration. I believe you met him.”
My eyes went round. “Stefan was your charge?”
“Yes, and before you start doubting my abilities, let me explain that I specifically instructed him not to use the rifts to get about the city.”
“Wait, what? You can do that?”
He sighed. “Yes, but it’s not advised.”
