In the mirror, I watched the veins in his arm pulse as he gripped my hair, the muscles in his hips and thighs twitching every time he shoved himself inside. His free hand smoothed along my waist.
“What a beautiful animal, trapped between my claws.” He leaned forward to my ear, jolting every time he buried his length to the hilt inside me. Now my insides, as well as my outsides, were shivering.
“Look how divine you look under me,” he whispered, our reflection staring back at us, like they were watching the show. “You would look even better with my teeth in your neck and my seed dripping down your thigh.”
The words edged a whimper from me, my hands clenched in the fur of the rug.
He nipped at my ear before kissing down my neck, sucking tenderly at the skin before his fangs brushed against it. He bit down, then lapped at the wound. He bit my shoulder, then lapped at the wound again. He repeated this a few times in the places he could reach.
“Why aren’t you feeding?” I breathed.
“Because I’m marking what is mine.” His voice held a harmonic clicking that was almost eerie, barely holding back. “It is long overdue.”
He then held me up so that we were kneeling, my back flush against his chest. I could see my full reflection in the mirror, the way he placed his hand on my womb and one on my chest to hold me against him as he thrust up into me.
I moaned and rested my head on his shoulder, looking up at him with glassy eyes. That was the last straw.
Silas kissed me roughly over my shoulder, pressing firmly inside as he finished, the fine piercing of the spines hooked into me and the euphoria blooming within. His grip on me was so tight as he kissed me, I could feel everything. Every throb of his girth, the heat of his skin, his seed dripping down my thighs as they trembled. Nothing could compare to the way he held me. I feared he would never let go.
A pathetic noise eased from my throat, and I clenched my eyes shut and waited for the pain to subside.
He buried his face in my hair, his hands softening and smoothing down the hot skin. “You’re doing so well, my dearest demise,” he chuckled. “It’ll be over soon.” He left kisses along every inch of skin he could.
We never slept that night, not even a wink, if it meant we lost sight of one another.
54
THE FIXER
Phoebe decided it was best to have a sleepover. On the ground-level lobby. On thefloor. She might be able to throw a party, but managing a crisis was not within her skill set. They all gathered around the fireplace. Their chatter thinly masked the anxiety and horror of it all. Never had any Vipera seen this amount of disarray caused by their very own community. Though I don’t think we can count corrupted as part of either species.
“Who uses Duchess the most?”
“She’smine.” Phoebe pulled her face from her hands, Rebecca and Mary on either side of her.
“Let’s be realistic,” I warned, “who uses her the most?”
There was a pause. “Edith rides her to work most times.”
I placed an empty glass bottle on the table. The bottle had remnants of dried blood at the bottom, Alina’s blood.
“Where did you find that?” Phoebe glared.
“In one of the saddle bags. She must have forgotten to bring it in after one of her shifts,” I explained, “the fact that it was Alina’s was probably the only reason that thing didn’t come through the window. You’re lucky it was only a corrupted.”
“Lucky?” Phoebe scoffed. “If it were a turned Host, I would still have a horse.”
“How selfish.” I sat down across from her. Most of the girls were gathering outside the kitchen, pretending not to listen to us. That was fine. They all should know. “You have a house full of Hosts. Do you know what really happens when Hosts turn, Phoebe? Have you asked? Has anyone here been turned as a Host?” I raised my voice, swiveling my head over my shoulder at the gathering crowd.
The girls were silent.
I returned my attention to Phoebe. Her brow twitched, but she did not interject.
“If you thought the corrupted were bad, you haven’t seen a hungry Host after turning.” I lowered my voice. “The process is painful. Your insides start to shift, and your bones grind together. The changes that should take years quake through your body in a matter of months. Many painful months. There is a reason Hosts aren’t turned and would rather beg to taste hot lead from a barrel.”
“We wouldn’t do that to a Host.”
“But you feed on them often enough to have to worry about someone elsekillingthem.”
