Chapter 3

Ihad to keep my head on a swivel.

It was the only way I was possibly going to pull off successfully getting the hell out of Blackwood without being…

What?

Tracked down?

Dragged to Blackwood Hills?

Turned into a vampire?

If I were honest with myself, it all felt like quite the inevitable turn of events, but in addition to being a known rebel, I was horrible at taking things I didn't resonate with on the chin.

I would fight it until I couldn't.

Sensible or not.

As I sat in the boarding area, waiting to be able to get on the flight, my phone buzzed yet again with a notification, worried texts from Brosia and Celeste wondering where I was. My best guess was the rune had worn off and Parris had alerted his brothers, who had, reasonably, asked my friends to get in touch with me.

I hadn't told anyone where I was going, or what I was doing.

Even if their loyalty to me was still intact, they had mental links with their chosen vampire lovers, more than just the head invasion trick Parris had attempted on me. They may not have been able to keep the information to themselves even if they wanted to.

Still… They just wanted to know I was okay.

Or… a less generous read of the situation, they were being compelled to seek information.

Either way, I wasn't jeopardizing my escape.

I put my phone in airplane mode and cast another gaze around the boarding area, looking for anything that felt out of place. It had taken a bit of witty spell work to make my way onto this flight, with a bag full of… interesting things. More protection magic would've been ideal, but anything more than I'd already done required more skills, materials, or time than I had.

I had to take the chance.

There was no relaxing until I was on the plane, in my seat, until the plane was in the air. My shoulders were tense until the city lights I could see under the clouds through the plane windows had dwindled, replaced with large swaths that appeared black now. Farmland, trees, whatever. I couldn't tell.

I'd made it away from Blackwood though.

It wasn't a full flight, so I was alone in my row. No need to climb over people for the bathroom. I gave a nod to the flight attendant as I passed and made a point of looking over every passenger as I made my way down the aisle, trying to figure out if there was any danger to me on this flight.

You're overthinking it now.

Maybe.

Maybe.

Still, I took a last glance behind me, making sure nothing strange was going on before I stepped into the tiny airplane bathroom and closed the door behind me.

"Don't make a sound."

Fuuuuck.

FUCK.

My mouth clamped closed, tongue relaxed, as my brain immediately followed the command I'd been unprepared for. Before I could even attempt anything, Parris had my hands pinned behind me, with my back to him.

"You're a clever little witch, aren't you?" he asked, meeting my furious glare in the mirror. "That was real ingenuity."

"Thanks, can you get the fuck away from me?" I thought, already feeling him digging around in my damn head.

He laughed, and I hated what it did to me, warming my chest. "You still haven't even heard what I want from you. You must be pretty scared of it though, based on you boarding a flight to New Orleans. Why here? I thought it was a different Creole?"

"It is two different creoles, but the history and culture of my ancestors is tangled. My Haitian roots are just as deep as my Creole ones.How did you track me?"

"I didn't track you. I made an educated guess, and it happened to be correct," he said, shifting so my arms weren't so uncomfortably bent and so there was less space between us. He moved in closer, right up against my back, holding my wrists at my sides. "Why you so scared to hear me out?"

"I don't need to hear you out. I don't want anything to do with any of this."

"Damn," he grunted, dropping his mouth to my ear. "Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you so turned on?"

"I'm… not."

Shit.

My damp panties and hard nipples begged to differ, actually.

But in my defense, I couldn't help my body's reaction to having him pressed against me like he was, smelling like he did, looking at me like he was in the mirror, like he wanted to devour me.

Especially knowing that was actually, exactly what he wanted.

Knowing that he could.

I wondered what the smell of my blood was doing to him.

Wondered if I could use it to my advantage.

"I haven't tasted you yet, Riv, not in that manner," he chuckled, pulling me even tighter against his dick. "But I'm very much looking forward to it."

"I'll never say yes to it."

"Never say never."

"Never."

Defiant, I met his gaze in the mirror again, refusing to back down. I was fully confident in my commitment to rebelling against my supposed "fate".

Until he smiled.

"Put your foot up there."

He motioned at the tiny bathroom sink's counter, and all I could do was comply, suddenly regretting my decision of the sweatshirt dress. I'd tossed it on because it was comfortable and quick, and that was what I needed.

For Parris, it was just easy access.

"No magic," he said lazily, as he pulled up the dress and tugged my panties aside so we were both looking at my pussy in the mirror. "Play."

Too easily, my hand went between my legs.

His hands went under my dress too, just higher, up to my breasts, easily pulling them from the cups of my T-shirt bra.

"Why are you doing this?" I thought, dipping my fingers into my pussy for additional moisture before I came back to my clit to make circles.

"I'm training your body to expect orgasms when I'm around," he murmured into my neck before grazing me with his fangs. "You might not like me, but your pussy will."

"I hate that."

"But I bet you don't hate this," he chuckled, bringing a hand to my pussy. He coated his fingers, then sank them into me—middle and pointer down one path, thumb in the other.

I did hate it, actually.

Hated how insanely good it felt, hated the extra gush of wetness, hated him for knowing I would enjoy it.

And I really hated when he used his free hand to switch things up, removing the fingers in my pussy, replacing them with his dick. He pulled my leg down from the counter to bend me over it, holding my gaze in the mirror while he fucked me, hard and fast.

Without releasing me from the no-noise command.

It was torture.

And pleasure on a whole other level.

I wouldn't have been able to speak with his hand around my throat anyway, holding me as he slammed into me from behind.

A knock at the door startled me, but he didn't stop, didn't react to that at all.

He went harder.

Gripped harder.

Pushed that thumb deeper.

And there wasn't anything I could do but take it, feel it, all in my head with no outlet. No moaning, no whimpers, no chance to break the tension, which simply ratcheted it all up.

Until static exploded in my head.

In my ears.

Body… jello.

Vision blurred.

Mouth open, but nothing coming out.

On the other side of the door, the flight attendant was knocking incessantly, asking if I was okay.

No.

I wasn't.

My whole body was in shock, reeling from the post-orgasmic ripples, my brain still trying to process what had happened. Parris pulled my panties up, smacking me on the ass before he stepped back to pull my dress back down, leaving me full of his non-baby-making seed for the second time tonight.

"You can't run away from this, Riv. You know that, right?" he asked.

"I don't accept that," I countered, then blinked, hard, when I realized I'd been able to say that out loud.

He wasn't compelling me anymore.

"It's not for you to accept, not for any of us," he said. "Nobody hates that more than somebody like me. I don't really fuck with being told what to do, but shit… may as well have fun while we're here, right? Don't make it harder than it has to be."

I turned to face him with a huff. "Don't make it harder than it has to be? Seriously? That's your angle here?"

"What other angle is there?" He shrugged. "Gotta make the best of what it is."

I scoffed. "Right, just what every girl wants to hear from her supposed fated mate. I'm supposed to be flattered, feel good about you making the best of what it is?"

Parris frowned. "How else you want me to say it, Riv? I didn't choose this, but it's not the end of the world. I could look at you forever and not get tired of it. Fuck you forever and not get tired of it. What more can I ask?"

"Feelings, maybe? Romance?"

He smirked. "Is that the problem? You want flowers? Candles?"

"I want to spend my life with somebody who truly wants me, not out of obligation."

"Who said I didn't want you?" he countered, brows furrowed. "Your ass is the one running, not me. But the thing is… you can run all you want; I'm always gonna find you."

"Why does that sound like a threat?"

"It's whatever it has to be for you to get it through your head," he told me.

And then I made the mistake of blinking.

When I opened my eyes again, he was gone, and the flight attendant was still banging on the door.

Shit.

I did a quick cleanup, the best I could with limited space and supplies, then snatched the door open.

"Sorry," I mumbled to the flight attendant before I rushed past to get to my seat. I was looking for Parris the whole way, but didn't see him.

I had no idea how the hell he'd made it onto the flight.

Or hell, if he'd made it on, and that whole encounter wasn't just some elaborate hallucination he'd projected into my head.

Either way, I was much less confident about my plan than I'd been getting onto this plane. Much less certain of what I needed to do or what results I could possibly get.

And there wasn't much I could do about it.

For the rest of the flight, I worried—about when Parris was going to pop up again, what I'd do once I got off this plane, what my future was going to look like.

I'd expected to be relieved to be home, empowered by my roots when we landed.

Instead… there was nothing but confusion in my mind when I stepped out of the airport.

But… all I could do was keep moving forward.