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Litres and litres, buckets and buckets.
My throat sliced and gaping.
My skin turning white as red spilled all over the floor.
Ignoring Victor, Henri shifted closer. His thigh wedged between my spread and naked legs. The softness of his slacks against my pussy added another element of insanity. Softness equalled kindness. Softness equalled our pact, our deal, our vow.
But everything was broken now.
“Please…” I whispered.
My first word in so long.
My first plea of many.
“Don’t. Don’t do this, Henri.”
He shuddered and closed his eyes.
And I hoped…just like I’d hoped in the library when he told me he was a cop.
I hoped he’d choose me.
Choose us.
Only this time, when he opened them again, there was no promise to save me, no oath to protect Peter, no admission that he was good.
This time…only a monster stared back.
“You don’t have permission to call me that. I’m your lord and Master. Address me as such.” With a flick of his wrist, he cut me.
I cried out as his knife punctured and pierced.
He groaned as hot blood seeped free.
A different kind of haze corrupted his shadow-stained eyes. Not alcohol. Not nausea.
Peace.
The longer he stared at the rich blood rolling its way down my throat, the more savage his stare became.
Sharp with fatal diamonds.
Twinkling with lust and glimmering with sick need.
It was true, then.
Eyes truly were the windows to people’s souls, and I couldn’t look away as Henri—the man who’d caused feelings and unwanted desire—vanished beneath Henri, the ruthless Master.
And I couldn’t help it.
The drugs in my system drowned me again.
I lost myself as Henri bent forward, grabbed the glass-blown pipette, and pressed the tip to the blood he’d drawn. With fierce attention, he sucked it up, trapping red in the dropper.
The room erupted with a cacophony of noise.
Bird song, cheetah snarls, elephant trumpets.
“Die.”
“Stop breathing before he steals your breath.”
“Stop bleeding before he steals your life.”
“Die!”
My ears rang.
My heart thundered.
Blackness coated my vision as Henri placed his knife down and held out his hand. With drunk-defying precision, he opened his palm and squeezed the blood-engorged pipette.
Almost in slow motion, ruby droplets rained.
“One,” he murmured.
“Two.” He shuddered.
“Three.” He licked his lips.
“Four.” He pressed his red-spotted hand to his throat.
Not looking away from me, he smeared my blood along the same area of his body where he’d drawn it from mine. “Four droplets. Ninety-eight to go.” He shivered as my blood baptised him just like he’d christened me in his cum on the maypole.
A different sort of ritual.
A perverse little ceremony where he truly became the devil.
Manifestations of my insanity revealed onyx gates of hell swinging wide behind him. Gargoyles flew out of the fog swirling thicker and higher around his legs. Scorpions and salamanders, hell beasts and death hounds…they all stalked and prowled toward me.
I struggled in my binds as one smoke-curled hound sniffed right between my bare legs.
Tears I’d forbidden from falling threatened to rain faster than my blood.
I choked on salt.
I gagged on sorrow.
Victor chuckled as I spiralled down, down, down.
Far worse than before.
More deluded than before.
Instinct overrode everything.
The urge to fight and war and run.
I fought my binds. I yanked my arms and kicked my legs. The clink of my collar on the hook behind me rang out like a church bell.
Peter balled his hands and never looked away, his eyes blazing messages to calm, to accept, to drift.
But it was too late.
I’d fought it for as long as I could.
I’d clung to flashes of sanity.
I’d done my best to salvage the script Henri and I had written.
But as Henri dropped his red-smeared hand and fisted his erection, falling on me for more, it was over.
His gut-wrenching groan tore me open.
He shimmered in a mirage of delusion as bat wings flared wide and fangs elongated to pierce his bottom lip.
Everything vanished.
The room.
The animals.
Peter.
Victor.
Hell.
All that remained was him as he held up his knife and searched for a new place on my body to slice…
Chapter Two
………………………….
Henri
I’D NEVER FELT THIS WAY before.
Never been so…empty.
Empty of attempts to be better.
Empty of hope that I was good.
Even the night I’d tried to butcher myself and willingly summoned death, I hadn’t reached this level of emptiness. This aching, quaking freedom.
The sharp scent of Ily’s blood shot up my nose. The droplets I’d smeared on my neck infused with my body heat, permeating around me like some deviously bad aftershave.
My cock throbbed to draw more, desperate and painfully insistent.
I’d been inside this girl twice. I’d come four fucking times today and shot back a shit ton of alcohol, yet…her blood was the worst kind of aphrodisiac.
Far more potent than just sexual conquest.
Far more carnal than just a quick fuck.
This new throb ached in every vein and vessel, soaking into my teeth and deep into the empty chambers of my long-dead heart.
I’d always felt less removed from the animal kingdom than my fellow humans. Always felt a scratching in my bones and skin as if I could change shape and grow fur. I’d often imagined my teeth growing into sharp canines and my nails into savage claws.
