Page 127 of She Who Holds My Wrath

I can’t look at her. Can’t look at the evidence of what lives inside me. Can’t look at the place where pleasure became harm in the space of a single fucking breath. Coward. Monster. Weak.

She moves before I can retreat further, climbing after me until she’s standing in front of me, hands wrapping firmly around my forearms.

“Hey. Look at me.”

I force my gaze to hers. Those ocean-blue eyes meet mine without fear or hesitation.

“You stopped the second I said it hurt,” she says firmly. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I should never have made you bleed,” I growl. “Never!” The Void laughs low in my chest.

Her eyes sparkle, surprising me with a smile and a flush to her cheeks. “I kind of liked it. And it’s not like it’s the first time you’ve done it.”

I go to open my mouth to argue that it was different before. But before I can speak, she drops to her knees in front of me, looking up at me through her dark lashes and wrapping her hand around my cock.

“Daisy—” She silences me with a teasing stroke and the drag of her tongue, tasting the bead of cum that has gathered there.

I groan, head falling back as she takes her time, inch by inch, as if she has all the hours in the world, and intends to ruin me with every one of them. Her hands grip my thighs, grounding herself as much as me.

The Void snarls at being ignored. At losing my attention as she takes control over the situation.

I gather her hair into my hand, pulling it away from her perfect face as I thrust up into the back of her throat.

“Fuck, Daisy. Look at you,” I growl. “So fucking pretty on your knees for me, princess. Look how good you take my cock down your throat.”

Her eyes glitter as spit drips from her chin, her mouth working me with devotion that has my pulse roaring. Emotion crashes into me harder than lust ever could. Because she is here, touching me after everything. Because she knows exactly what darkness I carry, and still kneels before me like I am worth loving.

Sunlight spills across the room in wide golden bands, warming the stone floor and catching in the sheer curtains that sway with the morning breeze.

It feels wrong, this quiet, this softness, after everything.

Daisy is asleep beside me, her body curled towards mine with one arm draped over my chest, her cheek pressed against my shoulder. Her breathing is slow and even, lashes resting against flushed skin. Peaceful. Utterly unaware of the war still raging inside me.

I don’t move though. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll shatter this moment. Afraid that if I breathe too deeply, The Void will remember it lost twice and try to take more than it managed.

You should’ve stopped, it whispers, low and smug. You practically let me win.

My jaw tightens.

I fought it. Gods, I fought it harder than I’ve ever fought anything. Even the fucking Drekkar. I held the line again and again, forced it down when it clawed its way up my spine, when it begged—screamed—for blood and ruin and release.

And still. Still, it slipped through.

My gaze drifts to her neck. Only faint pinpricks remain now, barely more than shadows against her ivory skin. Her magic has already done most of the work, her immortal blood knitting flesh faster than any human body ever could. One of the blessings of what she became.

She’ll still be sore when she wakes. I know that. That’s why I made her drink the tonic before sleep claimed her, even when her eyes were heavy and her words slurred. I couldn’t undo what I’d done, but I could soften it. Minimise it and control what little I still could.

Control. Pff. The word tastes bitter.

I should have left. I know that. The moment I felt The Void surge, the moment her blood touched my tongue and the world narrowed to heat and hunger, I should have walked away. But the sight of her—on her knees for me, trusting me, wanting me—undid something fundamental inside my chest.

I am obsessed with her. There is simply no other way to put it. With the way her body curves like it were sculpted by divine hands. With her resilience, her fire, the way she refuses to break even when the universe seems determined to grind her into dust. With the way she looks at me like I’m still worth loving.

Pride coils high in my ribs. I held out longer than I ever thought I could. The pride quickly fizzles out and is replaced by anger, though. Because I didn’t hold out long enough. How far can I let my control slip before I do something unforgivable?

I stare at the ceiling, sunlight blurring as my vision burns. If this is what loving her means now, if every moment beside her is a gamble between salvation and destruction… how long before the odds turn against us? Before The Void doesn’t just whisper… but it takes?

The knock at the door comes like a hammer blow. It’s so loud, urgent, and wrong.