I grip her ass with one hand—and with the other, no spell this time, I press my thumb to her clit. Hard. Exactly how she likes it.
“Jax—” she cries out.
I’m too far gone to notice at first, but then something wet traces up my arm—the tar, slipping from my palm in slow black tendrils, crawling over her skin and spreading across her nipples like living ink.
I stop everything, my blood turning to ice.
Sisk’s fingers tighten in my shirt, eyes blown wide with heat instead of fear.
“I didn’t say Scotch,” she breathes.
“Sisk…”
“Don’t stop,” she whispers. “I want it. All of it.”
I hesitate—horror fighting hunger for half a second before hunger wins, a starving beast finally let off its chain.
She’s shaking beneath me, her pussy clamping down on my cock like she’s trying to drain my soul, every movement dragging the piercings through her in a way that leaves me struggling to think. It’s too much. I’ve never felt anything like this.It’s too fucking good.
She’s not scared—not of the monster, not of the tar crawling over her skin. She wants it, wants all of me, and that realization obliterates the last of my control. I drive my cock deeper, harder inside her, staying buried, barely moving as we both watch the black lines tighten around her nipples, lust coiling tighter and tighter between us.
I move harder, faster, until the world narrows to instinct. Every goosebump on her skin flashes sharp in my vision. I can hear her pulse, smell her sweat and want, feel every microscopic shift of her body like prey trembling under my hands.
The world dissolves into her body and the sound tearing out of my throat as I take what’s mine.
She screams and I come inside her, magic surging out with it—claiming the only person I’d destroy everything to keep.
For a moment there’s nothing. No bar. No city. No tar. Just her breathing against my throat and my name still shaking outof her mouth. The magic settles as if it’s satisfied too. The black tendrils withdraw slowly from her skin, sliding back toward my palm reluctantly to leave its prize.
Over her heart, a dark circular mark blooms beneath her skin—a perfectly round shadow, an eclipse. Before I can even process it, her hand smacks my chest, light and quick.
“You didn’t—“ Her voice is a breathless tangle of accusation and wonder. Her grip is on my jaw, turning my head. Her eyes lock on the fresh ink of her own name along my neck, and they go wide.
“You’re insane,” she breathes.
I meet her gaze, letting her see the truth of it.
“You have no idea what I’d do for you.”
Sixty
THEN | SISK
The bike slows and Jax turns onto an industrial zone. I don’t know where the hell we are. We ride past rows of shipping containers and a few idle cranes before he pulls up on an empty loading platform that looks out over the river. Down below, the dark water’s hitting the sides of boats. Across the river, Tar City is lit up in this orange haze from the smokestacks and warehouses.
He kills the engine and neither of us moves. My hands are still on his jacket before I realize he’s waiting for me to get off. My hands are shaking but I tell myself it’s just adrenaline.
I haven’t said a word since I got on. At first, when I realized it was him, I was too shocked to speak. Then everything I wanted to say felt dumb compared to how messed up I felt inside, so I did what he told me to do. I got on the motorcycle and he fastened his helmet on me and took off.
“Helmet,” he says.
I try to remove it but my fingers fumble with the strap. He steps in and his fingers brush under my chin as he works the buckle. The touch is brief and practical, but my pulse jumps frantically anyway. He lifts the helmet off carefully and I drag in a breath that feels like my first.
I should say something. I should’ve said something back there.I should’ve said no.
“I can’t believe I got on the bike,” I say instead.
“Yeah?”
