Chapter 36

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CAT

S now changed to sunshine as I raced past my car, my shoes thundering the old tarmac. I threw myself at the gates the moment they appeared, sunbeams warming the metal against my palm.

"Let me in. Let me in."

I gripped the warm iron in a desperate fist, shaking the gates, and sobbed when they sprang open. I had the box cradled against my chest, a shaking arm wrapped protectively around it. Around Misery's heart.

"Miz," I gasped, frantic to find him, to see him healthy and tangible and alive, without a hole in his chest where this heart should be.

I slammed the gate behind myself, barely enough presence of mind to make sure it was latched before I raced through the courtyard to the castle. This was Death's castle rising over me this time, with its dark bridges and towers, its conflagration of gothic windows and sharp roofs.

I clutched the box to my chest as I barrelled through the heavy front door, my weak legs barely holding me up.

"Miz! Misery!"

I raced up the stairs, aiming for the bedroom where I last saw him, my hands shaking so hard I felt the heart roll inside its box. Don't drop it, don't you dare fucking drop it, this is the heart of the man you love.

A shadow swarmed at the top of the stairs, and I caught my breath, praying, praying—

"What's wrong?" Misery demanded, white hair streaming behind him like a banner as he stormed down the stairs, looking more like himself than I'd seen him in weeks. The long silk robe he wore open over black trousers made him look like a noble prince, but there was no hiding the dark glint in his eyes. If he was the prince of anything it was death.

"You're okay," I sobbed, my knees buckling. I hit the stairs hard enough to rattle my already aching body, my face crumpling. I held tight to the box, frantic to see Miz through the sudden veil of tears across my eyes.

"I'm fine," he promised, kneeling on the step beside me, warm arms instantly coming around me. "What happened?"

My throat was too tight to answer. I put the mahogany box on the step above us and let him read the inscription while I threw both arms around him and held on tight. His hand buried in my hair, thumb stroking soothing circles even as his other hand lifted the lid.

"Shit," he breathed, snapping the box closed again. "Who—Nightmare," he growled, answering his own question. His voice was cold with the hard edge I associated with the blue-eyed psychopath he'd worn to intimidate me. "It's not mine, Cat. The heart's not mine."

I buried my face in his warm shoulder as tears screwed up my face, my fingers twisted in his silk robe. "I thought—I thought—"

Miz wrapped a solid arm around me, pulling me in tight. His lips brushed my cheek as he murmured, "I'm right here. You haven't lost me."

Another sob ripped free, more and more tumbling out with every comforting word he spoke.

"I'll go get Death and Tor," he said after a while, kissing my temple.

I locked my hands on his robe. "No! I need you here. I need you close."

Misery drew back, smoothing both hands over my hair, pushing it away from my face so he could look at me. Fuck knows what he saw. Red, puffy eyes, blotchy cheeks, bitten lips that wouldn't stop trembling, and hair that was wild from climbing hills all day.

"You need me closer, my universe?"

I choked on every breath, another wave of tears burning my eyes. "As close as possible."

"I hate seeing you upset," he whispered, kissing the tears off my cheeks. "When you hurt, I hurt."

His sweetness just made me cry harder, and my tears rolled down his bare chest as he pulled me back into him, a kiss landing on the top of my head.

"Cry as long as you need to, Cat. I'll be right here the whole time."

I dug my fingernails into his skin, trembling, gasping. He wasn't dead. His scent of ivories and snow filled my airways with every broken breath until my soul began to settle. She didn't get to him. He was right here, safe, unhurt. "I need…"

This wasn't close enough. I needed to crawl inside his skin and wrap myself around his soul.

"I know," he agreed, kisses framing the side of my face, following the path of my tears. "I need you to take your jeans off, my universe."

It physically hurt to prise my arms from around him, but I couldn't think about anything but getting him close, getting him inside me where nothing could ever separate us. I yanked the button on my jeans through the hole and almost tore off the zip in my haste to undress, throwing the denim down the stairs and sitting astride Miz where he'd already whisked his trousers into shadows, his cock red and swollen, demanding my attention.

My fingers wrapped around his dick, thumb stroking the crooked path of a vein as I brought him to my entrance, not caring that I wasn't ready.

"Cat," he murmured, gold eyes intent on my face, worry turning to heavy-eyed pleasure as I let gravity sink me all the way down his length. "God. Come here."

A deep sigh punched from my lungs as he brought me into the safety of his arms, my chest flush to his, his scent intensifying in my lungs as I soaked up the warmth and solidness of him. Alive. Unhurt. Finally mine again. His head dropped to my shoulder, nose skimming the side of my throat as he inhaled deep breaths.

"I missed you," I blurted at the same time he said, "I hate life without you in it, Cat."

I squeezed his shoulders, pressing him closer to me, beginning to roll my hips in slow, shallow circles. Feeling him inside me satisfied the sharp, slicing need to have him closer, and I sighed, trailing my fingers up the back of his neck and into his hair.

"Let's never break up again," I said, another sigh punching from my lungs as his hands explored my back in broad, warm strokes, the touch soothing my starved body. "No matter what, no matter who tries to come between us."

"No matter what?" He spoke the words against my throat, following them with a kiss.

"No matter what," I agreed, pressing my fingertips into the back of his neck in firm circles, eliciting a groan from him.

"Even if—"

I tightened my inner muscles around his cock, gripping him on the next roll of my hips, and a grunt came from deep in his chest. "Even if," I agreed, smothering a smile—until the gentle hands that swept down my spine grabbed my ass, fingernails pressing into soft skin. I clenched hard around him, drenching his cock with arousal.

"Even if I fuck you so hard you lose your voice from screaming?" he asked, teeth scraping down my throat.

"Yes," I breathed, the smirk falling off my face, my heartbeat heavier, deeper.

He used his grip on my ass to grind me down on his cock, adjusting the angle until my breath caught then abusing that weak spot over and over.

"Miz," I breathed, complained, praised. I carded my fingers through his hair and made a fist at the base of his neck, unprepared for how fucking sexy his response would be. A shiver made him tremble against me, his face tilting up automatically, eyes sensual and soft, his pretty mouth parted. I gave an experimental tug and he moaned, his cock throbbing inside me. I clenched around him in answer, circling my hips with more need.

"You wanna fight for control, my universe?" he rasped, his eyelids lazy and low. "You won't win."

The smirk returned to my face in a slow smile. "I'm a Wallison. I always win."

He groaned. "Sexy little seductress. I can't wait to see you submit."

"You wish," I taunted, even if the idea of submitting to him made my whole body ache.

Misery's laugh was a thing of menacing beauty. I felt goosebumps all the way from the back of my neck to the base of my spine where he gripped my ass, grinding his cock into my weak spot, making it hard to remember why I wasn't instantly giving in.

But I needed this, needed the distraction from all the things crowding my head, from the blind panic of finding his name on that box, and I was curious—what would Miz do when provoked? He melted my damn mind before, and that was when he was trying to soothe my guilt. What could this man do when he wasn't driven by kindness or compassion? What was Miz like when he let his darkness out to play?

"You're gonna regret your attitude, my universe. If you play this game with me, you won't be able to sit or walk without thinking about me for a week." He paused, tilting his head as he considered me. "Maybe for weeks."

I snorted, squeezing the hair in my fist, watching its enthralling effect on him—eyes at half-mast, the flush crawling down his neck, face slack with pleasure. With submission. "You think far too highly of yourself, Misery. I'm the one who's going to make you submit."

The lazy pleasure in his eyes sharpened immediately, and I squirmed, my pussy drenching his cock. I hadn't moved my hips in minutes, and I knew it must be driving him insane because it had the same effect on me.

The spank came without warning, crashing through the soft skin of my ass like a flash of heat followed my sharp, biting pain. My eyes shot wide, a cry on my lips as my eyes watered. He hadn't held back, hadn't started gently.

My whole body electrified.

"Poor little Prick," he taunted, a conceited smirk on his face that made my stomach tangle. "Deluding herself that she's in charge."

His palm hit my other cheek next, as hard as the first, and I bit my lip at the crack of heat and pain. My pussy rippled around his cock, needy and relentless.

His mean little smirk made me shivery. "Your cunt knows who's in charge, sucking at my dick so desperately. You must want to move so badly." The faux sympathy was my weakness. Shit. "It must be so hard staying still when every atom in your body is screaming at you to ride me."

"Miz," I groaned. "Shut the fuck up."

Two spanks in quick succession were his reply and my hips jolted at the assault. The motion felt so good that I couldn't help myself, digging my fingernails into his scalp and shoulder as I circled my hips, pulling up an inch before taking all of him inside, over and over. I hated that he won. I hated that it felt so, so good.

I tightened my fist in his hair in a desperate attempt to gain control, which failed because he was a master and I was fumbling at dominance.

"Such a good girl, pulling my hair the way I like. You worship your god so well."

Please no praise. Please, please no.

My skin became so sensitive that every place we brushed tingled—my thighs against his, his hands stroking my ass, my chest sliding over his, even my fingers buzzing where I gripped his bare shoulder, the robe having slid off minutes ago. I rose higher every time I rode him, a moan torn from me at the long slide down, at every sensitive spot his tip caressed on the way.

"You just can't help it, can you?" He laughed, licking a slow, tantalising path up my throat, his tongue swirling over my weakness. Oh fuck, I was done resisting; I was nothing but putty in his hands and we both knew it. "You can't help obeying me, because you know this cunt belongs to me. This body is mine, this soul is mine, and this heart is mine."

"Miz," I gasped, shivery all over, my pussy squeezing him as I rode faster, desperation mounting. I didn't care about the carpet burn threatening my knees or the fact my hips were growing stiff, my thighs overexerted. I would die if I didn't continue.

"Every single part of you is mine to command, and even when your stubborn mind forgets that little fact, your clit always remembers. Doesn't it?"

The first brush of his thumb over my swollen nerves and my fingers slid from his hair, my head falling onto his shoulder as I clung to him, the world on the cusp of falling.

"That's it," he encouraged as my hips circled faster, faster. "Obey your god. Make this needy pussy come all over my cock."

I was on fire. I was drowning. His palm met my ass in a resounding crack, the flash of sharp heat combining with his thumb on my clit into a force of nature. I could do nothing but obey him, nothing but cling to him and screw my eyes shut as I came.

I shook against him, inner muscles clutching him over and over, each wave crushing the stress from me until I couldn't think of a single worry, my head blissfully quiet and my body calm, still.

Miz's hands roamed my ass, soothing the warm, throbbing skin or just admiring his handiwork. I was pleasantly floating when his hands tightened and he stood, jostling his cock deeper, raking spots so sensitive that I whined in complaint.

"My universe turning down more orgasms?" Miz snorted, still sounding cruel and smug and wicked. "Strange. A greedy whore like you usually wants as many as you can get. And it would be a shame to waste all this cum you just coated my cock with."

My back hit something cold and solid. The wall. Without missing a beat, or waiting for my input, he withdrew and drove back home in a ruthless thrust.