I feel his head nod beneath my hand and I hold him tighter, refusing to let him continue the motion. I pump faster into him, practically frantic with my movements. I can’t get enough of him, can’t control myself when he allows me to treat him this way. We fit so well together, his wants and my needs. And I would love nothing more than for him to see how perfect we are. Withouther.
“And who is it exactly that you want to treat you this way? Who is it that you want to fuck all those rancid little thoughts from your mind?”
“You, Ezekiel,” he whimpers. “Only you.”
“Then fucking take it,” I growl, letting the last of my control slip. “Take it and be grateful I’m not throwing your ass out for ruining my hardwood floors with your pathetic tears and cum.”
I curl my fingers into his long chestnut waves, letting the sound of his whimper thrust me towards my release. He cries out beneath me, joining our climax as I bottom out against him. I collapse on top of him, breathing heavily as he stills.
My body relaxes against him, the tension I’d been carrying melting away as I’ve made my point.
I kiss away the tears streaming down his cheeks as we lay together in the rice. Moments pass in this silent grief. I’m sure they will slow, as they always do. But to my dismay, they just keep coming.
“Come on, Sterling. Let's get you cleaned up.” I rise off of him, scrubbing a hand over the side of his body to rid his skin of the spell still stuck to him. He doesn’t respond, his eyes far too distant for my liking.
I get him in the bed, retreating to the bathroom only long enough to bring back a damp, warm washcloth. I clean his face in an attempt to erase the evidence of the tears that won’t stop. They slip and dance over the marks I’ve left onhis body. And it breaks my heart and turns me on at the same fucking time.
“Sterling,” I sigh. Because I know this isn’t how he should be after a scene. I know what I just did was the wrong fucking thing as his dom. He wasn’t in the position to be topped like that. And I let my selfishness win as I tried to fuck that girl from his mind.
“Why didn’t you use your safe word?” I whisper, shaking my head as I tuck a loose wave behind his ear. He just stares ahead, as if he hasn’t even heard me. “Fuck,” I breathe out, standing from the bed. “I’m going to get something from Laurel for you to take. Just stay here, okay? I'll be right back.”
Still silent, he curls in on himself.
I reluctantly stalk out of the room, closing the door silently behind me. In the hall, I let my head fall against the closed door. I flex my fists at my side, so angry with him for not using his safe word when things got too intense, but even more angry at myself for not realizing his true intentions when he walked into my room.
He wanted this, knew I would treat him this way. That’s why he came to me. And while we’ve used this before to help him overcome these thoughts, that wasn’t his intent today. I should have sensed it, should have turned him down. He has put his trust in me and I knew when he walked in my room that I wasn’t in the right state of mind to perform such a scene.
I stalk down the hallway till I’m sure I’m out of earshot, turning and punching the wall as I scream in anger. I fucked this up. As I seem to always manage to do. And I’m fucking pissed at Sterling. At myself. But the reason for his suffering, the thing that’s got him all fucked up to being with, radiates through my mind—collecting the whole of my anger as I push through the clubhouse looking for Laurel.
The fucking girl. It doesn’t matter what she does now, what she’s been through before. If her father exiled her or not, If her scent has captured the lot of us in whatever the fuck primal restlessness this is. This is exactly the reason I cannot give into Sterling's request. No matter how alluring she may be, no matter howspecialSterling claims she is, I won’t see him hurt. And when it comes to a Watcher, there’s only one thing that is always guaranteed.
She will be his ruin. And I cannot stand for that.
The steady rise and fall of Evangeline’s back under my hand as she sleeps tucked against me is a balm to my soul. After we’d come so close to losing her, after the seven circles of hell we’ve spent wading through the last couple weeks, this is what I need.
I made sure to take care of her after our time together, leading her into the shower and washing her from head to toe. When Aamon joined us, it was like getting the smallest glimpse into a reality I so desperately want—the faintest flicker of hope. She rolled her eyes when I insisted on applying some of Laurel’s salve to her hips, arguing that she wasn’t even sore. But I wasn’t taking any more chances with her.
Even with the Arcane fully running through her veins now, she still feels so fragile to me, fast asleep against mychest. I know Aamon senses it too. He went easy on her, all things considered. I know the ferocity he usually fucks with, and while he tormented both of us thoroughly, it wasn’t his usual brand.
“You awake?” My gruff voice rumbles through the room. The midday sun is surely out by now, but the blackout curtains in the room keep us shrouded in darkness.
Aamon chose to stay after I got Evangeline tucked back into bed, but I know he’s not sleeping, not in that miserable desk chair that is two sizes too small for his large frame.
“Yeah,” he answers after several moments of silence. I can’t see him well from here. Evangeline is on the side closer to him, and though her frame is tiny, I don’t want to shift to meet Aamon’s gaze over her and risk disrupting her sleep. So instead I recline on my arm bent behind my head and stare up at the dark ceiling, watching the dim light glare off the blades of the fan as they lazily spin.
“I’ve got her, you know," I quietly assure. "You should go feed.” Almost instantly I’m rewarded with a sneer. “I’m serious, Aamon,” I challenge. “I could feel your bloodlust the moment I walked in here. You’re lucky I came when I did, or you may not have been able to keep it in check.”
“Despite what you may think, I am capable of managing my own hunger.” His voice is low, but it does nothing to disguise the irritation in his voice.
“Are you?” I've watched him punish himself like this for years now. Always pushing to see how long he can gowithout feeding, stumbling through this life with a fraction of the power he should be capable of. Always teetering on the edge of that primal rage, and losing himself to it more times than I can count. “All I’m saying is you need to replenish. Especially after binding her to you.”
“She barely drank any of my blood,” Aamon scoffs.
I sit up, making eye contact with him and abandoning any caution at disturbing Evangeline as she rolls into the crook of my arm. “She what?” I knew he offered his blood to turn her, I watched the crimson drips stain her lips. But . . . “She actually fed from you?”
Aamon sighs, pushing his palms against his knees as he sits up a little straighter. “Like I said, it was barely anything.”
“Perhaps.” I dip my head towards him, furrowing my brow. “But in addition to what you’d already offered to turn her? Making a bloodbond is more than just a regular feed, Aamon. And when was the last time you fed before tonight?”
