75. WEN

My vision flickers as Godric stalks me like the perfect, and perfectly terrifying predator that he is.

It takes the last of my own ebbing control to stop myself from writhing in a fever. His starving approval of my condition, of his effect on me, almost snaps what remains of my coherence.

A thought flashes in my hazy mind, one I’ve had so many times. That I might not survive him. And that was when he was otherwise sane. Now I don’t know if he’s capable of holding back his full ferocity.

Every time this fear occurred to me, my underlying reaction was: “What a way to go.” It’s not even a consideration now. Just as I can’t afford to give in to the monster screeching within me to take all of him, to let him take all of me. At any price, and at anyone else’s expense.

My heartbeats spill out in a clanging rush as he comes to loom over me. I never felt so small and defenseless, so rabidly aroused as he dwarfs me in the shadow of his weapon of mass destruction body, and his equally devastating passion.

I want to ask if expanding is one of his powers, or if this is his real size, and he’s always Glamoring himself. And if the relative increase in his wingspan-related—endowment is survivable.

But that’s a conversation for when we’re away from here, and hopefully out of range of whatever’s driving him nuts. If it’s me, well, I guess I’ll find out. The hardest way.

As long as he picks me up and flies away to go fuck my brains out—or even to death—I’m fine with it.

“Ready for what you demanded of me, my torment? A performance of all those ‘inflated promises?’”

Barely hanging on to my consciousness, I nod. “Yeah. But don’t expect any participation. You’ll have to do all the lifting, in every way.”

Instead of scooping me up and shooting into the air, like when he flew me after Azazel’s Ligare fiasco, Godric bunches my top, and rips it off me.

My eyes bug out as he does the same thing to my pants, shredding their almost indestructible fabric with such frightening economy and effortlessness.

After he pulls the remnants out of my boots, leaving those on, and me in my magical underwear, all I can think is that I don’t want him to take off my bra, and find my bottle.

So stupid and untimely, but I can’t let him find out I’ve been hiding it from him this way. I swear to all the forces in the universe I will tell him about it the first chance I get, if I can convince him not to destroy my beloved bra now.

I’m trying to spin it as sexier, leaving some things to his imagination, when it’s him who pauses. His contrasting eyes ignite with higher flames, and so many emotions I can barely register or withstand.

Then I realize what’s causing this new flare.

His first look at my scrawny-assed, scarred body.

Though most of my newer scars have disappeared, and most old ones lessened, the worst ones, and there are dozens of them, still mar my body from the neck downwards, mapping Kondar’s abuse throughout the years as his ashtray and flogging post.

It’s overwhelming, being exposed to Godric for the first time, and dreading his disappointment.

I’m drowning in my insecurities when he murmurs, as if to himself, “Now here’s one I want to kill. But I won’t. This one, I’m keeping alive, to relish every second of the years, the decades—the centuries of torture and degradation I’ll put him through. I won’t let even Hell claim him in the end.”

Kondar. He’s talking about Kondar.

I once told Godric he flogged me, but made light of it, making it sound like some discipline all slaves go through. I felt admitting to being so damaged would put me at a steeper disadvantage with him, and within his world.

It’s why seeing the extent of my chronic abuse with his own eyes seems to be sending him coldly and calculatedly ballistic.

Massacring dozens because they threatened me was a mercy in his book. For Kondar’s far worse crimes against me, he’s bestowing an eternity of unimaginable suffering.

Not that I’d object to that. I will even petition for a front-row seat to the spectacle. I’ll be there early for the show with popcorn ready. Hell, I’ll ask to join in. If Godric doesn’t pull away again when his bout of insanity passes, I might push for it to be one of our regular date destinations.

One long, huge finger lands the gentlest touch at the puckered edge of one of my worst scars, just above my belly button.

Kondar gave it to me the last time I tried to escape him. I was seven—or eight, and was still suffering the almost full-body, third-degree burns the Mark inflicted on me. He held me down, picked the only intact piece of skin on my body, and carved his name. With the rusty blade he fileted sewer larvae with, to serve as calamari at Demonica. He had it dipped in Hydra venom to make sure it would never stop hurting, and never fade.

Even with my healing abilities, its pain still flares from time to time. At least they obscured its shape, so I no longer have his filthy name emblazoned over my stomach.

I still feel so miserable, so ashamed that Godric had to see this. But what did I expect? That he’d fuck me fully clothed?

I vaguely thought something would distract him at the time—strategic lingerie, obscuring lighting, a frenzied encounter—anything else but him looming over me and taking such meticulous stock of my every imperfection.

More tempted than ever to let the void take me so I can escape his grim scrutiny, I whisper, “Lost your appetite?”

His scoff is the most eloquent thing I’ve ever been exposed to. His smirking grimace is a close second. They both tell me there is nothing in existence that can temper his terrible hunger for me.

It should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. Even if he hates what he sees, he can’t help how I make him feel. It’s my curse.

Though I’m scared my power might be doing all this to him, my turmoil right now boils down to stupid vanity.

I wish I was perfect for him.

His finger maps the network of my scars, and his groan echoes mine. “Physical attributes never mattered to me one way or the other. Until yours. But they matter only because they’re yours. Your wounds are one of the reasons that you became the woman who ruined me. You wouldn’t be perfect to me without them.”

It’s as if he heard my shame and insecurity. If there’s anything that could make me want him more, that was exactly it. “Oh, Godric…”

“That said, they tell the tale of your suffering.” His hands dip beneath my buttocks, slipping beneath my panties to trace the scars there, and opening my legs wider for his inspection. Once he sees the long, jagged lines of partially healed flesh and pain, another rumble shakes the whole place. “I think Los Angeles has blighted Earth with its festering presence long enough.”

My mouth drops open as he continues to explore the inside of my thighs, my legs, bringing me closer to release with every stroke. “You mean…?”

He only nods, answering my uncompleted stupefaction. “Too many there are complicit in your lifelong torment. I won’t let it go unavenged.”

“You didn’t just decide to wipe out a metropolis because a dung-heap demon who abused me lives there!”

“Why not? I did it to D.C. for a far lesser reason. The very system of debasement and debauchery that fuels this place needs to be addressed, once and for all.” He sits back on his haunches, and I almost faint at the sight of him, gorgeous beyond words and gargantuan between my splayed legs. “Enough of my clean-up mayhem plans. Time to wreak the sensual kind on you, as promised.”

He reaches for my thighs, dragging me by them over his, so only my head and shoulders are on the ground.

Though I feel like a sacrifice about to be ravaged, and everything inside me is roaring for it, I try to scramble up, and out of his grip. He only holds me in place, with just the right degree of roughness.

“Godric,” I pant, trying not to hump my hips up, searching for any contact with him. “What are you doing!”

“What I was going to do on the dance floor, before your bathroom trip. Then this whole debacle interrupted me. Shush now, no more delays.”

“You’re not really thinking of doing this here!”

“This what, my bane? Say it.”

“Any of it. This is so many levels of wrong.”

His hands pause in the process of pushing my thighs up against my sides, opening me further for whatever he has in store for me. “You said you want me, any way you can get me.”

“Yeah, and I meant it, will always mean it. Just not here with your massacre in the background!”

“I would take you over the very ashes of this world.”

The way he said that, the way he’s looking at me, the sheer possession emanating from him—I swear it forces me to ovulate.

I don’t think I’ll last a second if he touches me now. I might not last even if he doesn’t. I’ve been known to spontaneously orgasm because of him. And that was when I wasn’t high on his blood. I haven’t been in the throes of continuous climaxes only because dread for Sarah and the others has been counteracting the madness.

Struggling to maneuver into a less vulnerable and sensual position, I rasp, “Well, I’m not taking you, not among our unconscious friends.”

“They’re unconscious because they tried to kill me. They’re certainly no friends of mine.”

“Well, they are mine, no matter what you, you petty Angelhole with your pathetic mind-fuckery, say. I don’t care what they did, or what you feel about them. You promised me you’d protect them.”

A frown dips his brows so low, they almost obscure his eyes. It looks as if he just remembered his promise, and is dismayed that it nullifies his murderous intentions.

Seems his only weakness is his commitment to his own word.

I’ll kick myself everywhere, later, for not realizing I had a magic word to stop this rampaging genie sooner. I didn’t even realize it until I saw its effect on him.

Looking disgruntled, he drawls, “That promise only concerned your Sarah and demon.”

“Oh, no, you’re not haggling over legalese! It was all-inclusive. You made it to stop me from committing extremes to protect them. You know I’d go to the same lengths for any of the others.”

His eerie gaze holds mine for one more second before his frown lifts and he sighs. “Fine, you can have those irrelevants included as a bonus. At least until I convince you to release me from my vow.”

“You mean you don’t want to kill them anymore, right?”

“I never kill because I want to, but because it’s necessary. It’s what I do. My reasons for eliminating them are valid. Until you come to see it my way, they may live.”

I gape at him, his serene decree echoing in my head, before I scoff. “Why, you feather-fucking madman, thank you so much for your clemency.”

Before I smack myself up the head for antagonizing him after he agreed to spare my friends, he smiles, with teeth, dazzling and all too sharp, and dimples, all but blinding me.

Yeah, it seems my verbal abuse is music to his ears. From the way he bends to grind what feels like a construction column against my belly, it’s also a caress to his cock.

“I’d rather you thanked me, profusely, after I deliver those orgasms.” He sits back, starting to radiate heat, making his image dance before me like a mirage. “Ever since I had a taste of your pleasure, I’ve been parched for more. I’ve wanted to taste you from the start. On the Court’s doorstep that first time you gifted me with your defiance and middle fingers. Then right among the archangels, when you first called me Godawful. I wanted to have you riding my tongue and screaming that name as you convulsed and gushed your release until you broke.”

I almost do all that. I’m going out of my fucking mind needing it all. Just not here. Not now.

Since Sarah and the others are no longer in danger of being vaporized by him, my plans to distract him with my succulent flesh and surrender can be safely shelved.

Before I can announce my new priorities, his hands encompass my thighs, so large they almost span them, lifting me until they’re dangling over his massive shoulders.

If being upside down with my head rolling over his erection didn’t compromise my consciousness and sanity, he adds another layer of sensory torture, sowing suckling bites on his way to my core.

“It’s such a relief to give in. Now, my bane, I feast on you.”

“Don’t you dare rip my magic panties!” I choke as he hooks a finger into my soaked panties, and he looks down from between my legs, one eyebrow cocked. “You don’t want me parading butt-naked around the Academy, do you? It’s a long way from here to another pair.”

His shoulders nudge my thighs as he shrugs, and runs a huge and hot finger over my sopping crotch. A shock of pleasure zaps me, almost spilling me over the edge. “I can fly you back at an altitude. And if any males happen to witness your butt-nakedness on the way, I can always gouge their eyes out.”

The way this thrills me as much as it horrifies me says he’s been right about me. I’m as much a monster as he is. Rolling my head over the hardness I’m dying to have everywhere I can, I croak, “Godric, I mean it, stop!”

“Tell me you don’t want this, and I will.” A furious whimper escapes when I can’t bring myself to say it. His lips spread and his image shimmers along with my consciousness. “No more stopping, then. Never again.”

Grabbing his pants’ waist with fingers that feel like spaghetti, I try to bring myself up. “You won’t do this against my will!”

“But it is your will. All of this is. You started this night with demanding ‘rock-this-region, crack-the-Earth-crust sex.’”

“I can’t believe you’re quoting my oblivious novice words back to me. I can’t believe you memorized them.”

“I memorize everything about you. Now you’re going to get everything you asked for. Then take everything I give and do to you. I did warn you what would happen when you finally broke me.”

“Godric, I want nothing but you, every way you can come up with, all the time. But help our—help my friends first, and the others who are still alive.”

His lips pause inches from my core, before he exhales. “Your ‘friends’ don’t need my help.”

“They’re not waking up, so their injuries could be serious!”

He tsks. “A couple have simple fractures. I told you the first night that I know exactly how far to push a human body. And they’re nowhere near human now. When I realized how powerful they are, that I might need to do them serious harm to stop them, I blasted them with something akin to your beloved sci-fi show’s stun guns. It will keep them under for hours, that’s all. But—” His voice rises when I start objecting. “I will help them, just so you can stop worrying. But that’s where I draw the line. The others can rot alive.”

“No, Godric, you have to help them. They were all out of their minds and?—”

“And it’s time to drive you out of yours.”

“I …”

The rest of my words morph into a mindless cry as he bites into my drenched inner thigh. Taking advantage of my open mouth, he feeds me his thumb as his sharp teeth break my skin. The exquisite pain harpoons pleasure to my clit, making me bite down so hard, my teeth cut through his flesh to the bone. Incoherent with it all, I latch onto the damage and suck, as if my life depended on it.

His taste, his passion—his blood—they’re everywhere, everything. More than everything. I don’t think I exist anymore outside of this, of us, of this vast and overriding realm of need, of greed.

At one point I realize it’s my voice lamenting non-stop. “Please, please …”

Godric’s, the command and drive I live to listen for, expands all around and within me. “Articulate your pleas, my bane. Use your words. What do you need?”

“You.”

“Wrong answer. You’re not getting me yet. I have the inflated promises of brutal orgasms to deliver first.”

A shriek gashes me open. “Then fucking give them to me, you Godawful Angelhole!”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

He pushes aside my panties, nudges my folds open with his nose, inhaling me deeply, the rumble he produces is enjoyment made sound. From my inverted, defenseless position I watch him watch me as his teeth scrape my outer lips hard enough to keep me from shattering. Somewhere in my fragmenting mind, I realize he’s edging me, and I hate him for it.

He licks his lips, as if in anticipation of devouring me, then murmurs, “Give me your pleasure, Gwendolyn.”

The shock of hearing him utter my full name, and his strangely rough, searingly hot tongue connecting with my flesh at last, one lick, from my slit to my clit, is way more than I can withstand.

Everything I am seizes, then implodes.

When I finally slam back into my body, hurtling back from the abyss of pleasure he flung me into, my quakes, and the ground’s, are subsiding.

Horror echoes among the aftershocks of the demolishing pleasure. Because demolishing is accurate.

Where the canopy of the soaring ceiling once was, I’m now staring at the perpetually overcast sky. And beyond the range of what must be the forcefield he erected around us, mountains of wreckage litter the vast space. The highest peak is where Sarah and the others were.

I’ve buried them alive.