AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Instead, they split off and head down the inky hallway, while I disappear into the first bedroom I find.
I close the door and lean against it, sucking in deep lungfuls of air, hoping that each one is the inhale that will let me stop breathing them in. All three of their distinctive scents still linger in the air, as if they’re embedded in my clothes or clinging to my skin.
Dim illumination comes through a window across from the door. It’s a modestly sized room with a four post bed, a matching set of armoire and dresser drawers, and a small fireplace tucked beneath a carved marble mantle. More fitting for a rich man’s country house than a shack in the desert.
I wander over to the bed and brush my fingers over the maroon and gold coverlet. Dust rises in wisps, and I cough, waving a hand at th
e clouds. Why did Erik need a house this big? This room obviously hasn’t been touched in years.
I cross to the dresser, where an old-fashioned mirror hangs from a carved frame. It’s old, covered in dust and speckled by rust between the layers. I swipe a hand across it and stare at myself in shock.
I look… rough. And not because I just drank the equivalent of a gallon of liquor. Maybe it’s not even really something physical, because my skin looks fine. My hair is just as thick and long as usual, and my green eyes are clear, albeit a little bloodshot.
It’s more something I can’t see with my eyes. I see it with my soul.
The poison. Eating me from the inside out.
Between the lingering arousal in my body from the stairwell conversation and seeing this—the effects of the poison on me, the poison that’s going to kill me—I need some air.
Downstairs, I bypass the broken door, since there’s no way in hell I want to deal with trying to finagle it back into place. The living room window is still open from our impromptu drinking party, so I slip over the window sill and drop to the dirt.
Most of the land around Erik’s shack is wide open desert, dotted by sparse shrubs and rocky outcroppings. I don’t want to go too far into the wilderness, but about a mile away, I can see a dense, green copse of trees near a natural rock formation that rises from the ground like a small mountain.
The cold air feels good on my skin. I turn my face to the sky and close my eyes as I angle toward the trees. The heat in me fades, and the sick feeling in my stomach over the poison gradually diminishes.
Trees thicken as I close in on the rock formation, and I trail my fingers over smooth, white bark. Not evergreens like in the woods back in Oscura. Something more scrubby, more desert-like. Too bad one of these can’t be the Tree of Life.
I circle around the edge of the outcropping as I gaze up at it against the night sky. The craggy rocks look like jagged teeth biting the stars, darker than the sky itself. I’m still staring up at the rocks when I realize I’m not alone.
Malix is leaning against the trunk of a thick tree, his upper body resting against it and his head tipped back a little. His eyes are closed, his feet are planted wide, and his pants hang off his narrow hips as he fists his cock.
My heart jerks, slamming so hard against my ribs that it hurts. I make a startled, strangled noise in my throat, and he opens his eyes, his violet gaze focusing on me.
He doesn’t look the least bit embarrassed or even surprised. And he doesn’t let go of his cock as he grins at me, his teeth bright against his dark skin.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he murmurs, dragging his hand up and down his shaft once more.
I don’t answer.
I don’t move.
“Yeah. Me neither.” He chuckles, and the sound ends in a husky sort of groan that makes my nipples go hard. “I was too fuckin’ wound up, you know what I mean?”
He strokes his cock again, and even though I’m trying so fucking hard not to look, my gaze flicks down to watch him swirl his fist over the crown of his dick before sliding down again. The smooth, veiny skin glistens in the moonlight, and I wonder if it’s precum or spit or both.
A gush of wetness seeps from me as if my pussy is offering to help. As if it wants to be the thing that slicks his cock.
Fuck.
No, Amora. Fuck.
Malix laughs softly again, speeding his strokes up a little before slowing them down again, like he’s teasing himself, trying to draw it out as long as possible. He squeezes the base of his thick cock, and I clench my jaw, swallowing hard.
“You don’t just have to stand there,” he murmurs, resuming his steady, even strokes as he watches my face. “You can touch yourself too, if you want. Are you wet?”
I don’t answer that question either.
But my little betrayer of a vagina does. She gets even wetter, and my clit throbs angrily, demanding friction, pressure, something.
