Chapter 2

Is this what you're looking for?

The question simultaneously chilled me to the bone and lit a fire of rage, in a dizzying juxtaposition of feeling. Instead of answering, my gaze flitted to the front door, to freedom.

When I looked back, he was so close he was damn near touching me, so close it was like his presence carried its own gravitational pull, tugging me from my own axis.

"Don't make me chase you," he murmured with a sudden hand at my neck, gripping, but not squeezing, forcing me to meet his gaze.

Immediately, I found the acuity to put a wall up in my mind, a skill I'd practiced ad nauseam with my mother, grandmother, aunts. A defense I'd only rarely had to employ before now because I typically made a point of avoiding anyone who had mind-prying as a weapon in their arsenal.

I hadn't even felt the intrusion, not at first.

I only knew because he'd said something. No telling how long a vampire of his age and significance had been digging around in my head unnoticed. Especially considering the words of the grimoire, knowledge that currently loomed over me, making this interaction not as confounding as it would have otherwise been.

Or… would he not be here, if I didn't know what I did?

Now, he was knocking at my mind. Little prickles of awareness tap-pirouetted across my skin, rushing under my clothes, into my blood, amplifying the apprehension I was trying my best not to surrender to.

"What do you want?" I asked, needing to break the silence as I weighed the option of challenging his declaration to not make him chase me.

The thought made me sick to my stomach.

I knew better, knew I wouldn't get far, but being Black, a woman, and a witch… shackles—even metaphorical ones—were an ancestrally offensive concept.

I did not do well with feeling caged in, or trapped.

"We have a vitally important matter to discuss, Riv," he said, his grip on my neck tightening ever-so-slightly, before he let me go.

I stood there, stricken with… awe?

Fear?

Who knows?

I just watched as he moved to my kitchen table, where he snatched out a chair and took a seat, his legs splayed wide before he patted his thigh.

"Come sit down."

Ugh.

The rasp in his voice hit me in the most ridiculous way, in the most ridiculous place. I was instantly, shamefully wet, and somehow… he knew.

He smirked at me, eyebrow hiked as he lifted a hand, making a come here motion at me with two fingers.

Yeah.

He knew.

Fuck him.

I wasn't going over there.

The instant nausea that came with resisting his directive surprised me. I'd been warned of what happened when—if—you resisted the compulsion of a vampire with that skill, but that was nothing compared to the consuming, twisting discomfort of it.

He grinned. "You're gutsy," he said. "Mentally strong. I like that."

"I don't give a fuck what you like," I ground between my teeth, fists clenched with the exertion of not moving my feet, not climbing into his lap to feel his dick against me.

The effort was going to tear me apart, it seemed.

Elbows propped on the table, he leaned forward. "That's fine. Stay there."

Shit.

Immediately, the tension left my body in response to the shift in his demand. Relief trickled through me, all the way down to my fingers and toes as I unconsciously relaxed into the comfort of not resisting.

My brain understood the manipulation, recognized that this was no gift.

He'd slipped the demand in while I was already fighting to stay in place and I couldn't switch my mental gears fast enough. And now, because of his compulsion, I wasn't going anywhere.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked, reclining back in the chair with a distinct air of ownership that made my insane lust flare. He pulled his bottom lip in, putting his fangs on display as I shifted painfully in place, trying to ease even the tiniest bit of the pressure between my legs.

Of course I knew who he was.

Before Celeste was ever invited to cook for Elias' party, before Cassius ever forced the removal of roses from Ambrosia's land, I'd known who the Blacks were.

For someone like me, it was impossible not to.

They practically oozed power, clearly among the elite of their kind, dabbling in a level of wealth I was no stranger to.

I dealt in artifacts and antiques, rescuing and retrieving the treasured, obscured… reviled.

Often for a profit.

Among the other dealers I often traded with, the rhetoric was that "rich people wanted weird shit".

Sometimes, yes.

But sometimes… They just wanted their ancestral relics back.

Like when Elias Black's assistant, also a vampire, had come to me with a list of things I should offer them first looks at if I ever ran across them. Certain knives, amulets, portraits, rings, books—ostensibly for display at the Black Gallery—but I knew what was up.

I knew exactly what they were.

Besides their distinctive ancestral artifacts, it was one of those things that… honestly even mortals knew, but weren't sure how to parse because they thought the supernatural was purely fiction.

They couldn't articulate why the Blacks were so attractive.

Sure, they were big and fine, deep chocolate skin, all that, but there was just something… more to their appeal. The years and years of wisdom, the power, the… royalty. And even besides that… a sinister quality you knew better than to be attracted to, a warning beacon that there was danger ahead.

Especially with this one.

"Parris Black," I answered.

The "baby" of the family.

"So my reputation precedes me then." He smirked, pushing up from his seat to stalk toward me.

I wanted nothing more than to escape him, and nothing more than to be touched.

He didn't though; he stopped just short. "And you know what I am too…" It wasn't a question. "You're blocking me out of your head. That's adorable."

"Adorable enough for you to give me my necklace back and leave?" I quipped, even though I already knew what the answer to that would be.

Indeed, he smirked, leaning in so his face was right in line with mine. "Now why would I do that, Larivye?" he asked, holding it up in front of me.

I reached for it and he immediately demanded, "Hands off."

I whimpered as my hands, through no will of my own, dropped to my sides.

"Good girl," he whispered, his lips dangerously close to mine.

Torturously close.

"What do you want?" I hissed, frustrated by my powerlessness against his demands, and the unreasonable, aching lust it seemed to incite.

"What do you think?"

Of course I already knew the answer, knew what he'd come for.

But if there was any chance…

"I'd rather not guess," I managed to whisper, fighting the manipulated impulse to spill everything in my head. It was getting harder and harder to do both, keep up the wall and maintain even the tiniest shred of control over myself.

Whatever he was putting off, I was starting to get drunk on it.

He was towering over me now, his gaze boring into me as my head throbbed.

"Sexy little witch," he murmured, his hand slipping around my throat again. "Answer the fucking question."

"To make sure I'm not a threat to Celeste or Ambrosia," I whimpered, offering the first lie that popped in my head while I could still do so. Well… not completely a lie, since I had wondered if something like this might happen.

Before the grimoire.

Now I knew for sure that I was damned.

Parris's grip tightened as he glared. "If I thought you were a threat to my brothers' brides, you'd already be drained," he said, then let me go.

Completely.

I felt the wait of having my actions compelled lift, felt him exit my head so abruptly that I slumped to the floor.

The lust… remained.

Shit.

Did that mean it wasn't something he was doing? It was actually coming from my own head, my own thoughts and desires?

"If you want me to fuck you, just say so." He grinned, leaning against my counter. The necklace was in his hands again, amulet swinging as he threaded the chain between his fingers, playing with it.

Teasing me.

"Stay out of my head," I demanded, realizing I'd dropped my guard.

But… he shook his head, letting out a low chuckle that hit me in the same place everything about him had been hitting me.

Right between the legs.

"I'm not in your head anymore. It's all over your face, Riv."

I shook my head. "The only thing on my face is disgust over the fact that you broke into my property and stole from me."

"Stole?" he chuckled. "I found what you were looking for. You're welcome."

"I'll thank you when you give it back."

I blinked and he was behind me.

Pulling me to my feet.

Clasping the chain around my neck.

Pressing his body against me as he murmured, "I'm waiting" in my ear.

I closed my eyes, lifting my fingers to touch the scapolite amulet.

"Thank you," I whispered.

And then I muttered a quick incantation that sent him sliding across the room, pinned to the wall.

"So much," I added, grinning as I relished the surprise on his face.

I should've taken the opportunity to run.

But his face had already morphed to a mischievous grin by the time I realized it, too late for me to do anything before his hand was around my neck, tight this time, and I was pinned to the wall.

"Sneaky, sneaky," he chuckled, using his free hand to finger the amulet.

To my relief though, he didn't snatch it back off.

"This is why you were so frantic about it. It's your power source…"

My family's power source. And the last of us, after all.

He was cutting off too much air for me to do any incantation, but my hands were free, and my nails were long. Quickly, I scratched a simple rune into my skin—thank goodness for forgetting to put on lotion after washing my hands—that made me momentarily hot to the touch.

Immediately, Parris let me go, cursing as he looked at his hand, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

It was enough for me to take off.

Just not enough to get away.

Parris was too fast, which came as no surprise.

Still, I screamed in frustration when he grabbed me from the front, pinning my hands behind me before he dragged me up against his chest. "I told you not to make me chase you."

"Fuck you!" I spat back at him, and he laughed.

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" he asked, compelled, to my horror.

The "yes" that left my mouth was my own, but it was absolutely not something I cared to admit to him.

He bit down on his lip. "Do you want me to fuck you, Larivye?" he asked, and despite drawing on my own power, his was overwhelming.

I had to tell the truth.

I nodded.

Whimpered as he released my wrists to grab handfuls of my ass instead, using that grip to pull me against his dick.

"Can I fuck you?"

No compulsion.

No knocking against the walls of my mind.

And yet… still…

"Yes."

It was barely off my lips before I was bent over my kitchen table, panties around my ankles, dressed hiked over my hips, breathing through it as Parris slid into me. His fingers dug into my skin as he held me in place, burying himself as deep as he could get, then pulling back and doing it again.

And again.

And again.

Slowly faster.

Then slowly harder.

Soon he was fucking me hard and fast, and the table wasn't in the middle of the kitchen anymore. Once he had the leverage of the table being wedged against the cabinets, he fucked me harder still, grabbing a handful of my hair to pull me upright. He tugged my head to the side, exposing my neck. He kissed, sucked, but didn't bite. He hiked one of my knees up on the table, switching angles to give him access to dig even deeper.

Deeper, harder, faster.

Aggressive.

And… shit, it was good.

Too good.

He was too attuned to the exact position, the exact intensity, the exact pace that had me sprinting at an orgasm to not be in my head, but whatever. He could live in my brain with me, so long as he kept fucking me just.like.this.

I wasn't surprised when he stopped to turn me over.

Grinning like an asshole, because he knew.

"I'll make it up to you," he quipped, pulling the sweater he'd been wearing over his head once he had me propped up on the table, legs splayed wide. He pulled a chair up in front of me, then dragged me to the very edge of the table.

Then his tongue was on me.

In me.

Lapping my clit, in slow, deliberate strokes that made me squirm as my eyes fluttered closed.

He kissed his way from there to my knee, licked his way back.

My eyes popped open over the feeling of his fangs grazing my thigh.

I grabbed a handful of his locs, tugging his head back so I could look him in the eyes. "Do not bite me," I demanded, and the only response he offered was a grin.

Then he pushed his fingers into me, covered my clit with his mouth, sucking on it while his fingers sank deeper.

Fuck it.

All I could manage to care about was the feeling.

Him fucking me with his fingers, his mouth, eating my pussy until I came, hard, and then standing up to sink his dick into me again.

It was all that mattered.

The stretching, the friction, the weight of him, goddamn.

He pushed his hand between my legs as he stroked me, put his mouth on my neck to suck and kiss, and… shit, there were his fangs again.

Don't care.

It felt too good.

It felt too good.

The tension, the buildup, the release.

All so heady and distracting.

Disarming.

"Well this is quite a mess," I giggled, looking at the sticky concoction of bodily fluids between us as he carefully pulled out. I put a hand between us and then snatched it up, wrinkling my nose. "Let me grab a towel."

I hopped down from the table on shaky legs, heading for the counter.

"Looking for this?" Parris asked.

I turned to see him holding up a small hawthorn stake, from the mess of things I'd spread around looking for my necklace.

I smirked.

He was smart, but…

"No." I shook my head. "I already did that."

I pointed to the rune on his leg, painted there with our cum. It was a bit more complicated, but still quick and easy to do when he was recovering from trying to fuck the sense out of my head.

It had almost worked.

But not quite.

Now, the rune was already working, and there wasn't shit he could do except drop to the floor.

"Don't. Make. Me. Chase. You," he gritted through his teeth, and I just shook my head as I left, calling my last words to him over my shoulder.

"I've never been great at doing what I was told."