78. Danica

Danica

78

T he whirlwind of events leaves me reeling. In what feels like mere minutes, I've watched the door to finding my mother—and freeing countless others—slam shut. Adrian, my bright spark of hope, was ruthlessly taken from this world in a way he never warranted. To top it off, our greatest adversary now knows my deepest secret, meaning the vampire brigade and anyone else with a nose for intrigue will be on my scent, chasing me through all seven realms.

This new stone hasn't just handed me the universal code for communication; it also cranks up the emotions, feelings, and pain of every magical being around me to eleven. I felt Adrian's agony, both internally and physically, before he died. It was excruciating—like the stone made me experience every bit of his suffering firsthand.

When Azrael fled, I rushed to Adrian's body, channeling the Atherite Stone's power to no avail; his silence was deafening. I pleaded with any god that might spare a glance my way, tears and fury spilling out uncontrollably. But as reality set in, all that was left was to turn my seething rebuke to Rhyland.

Now, he throws himself into the battle to help me survive this storm. He's laying out his devotion, love, and remorse-like armor—to shield and keep me standing. Deep down, I recognize the torment within him; he never intended for Adrian to die. It was rage, unbridled and fierce. But here he is, trying to make amends, showing me he's more than the fury that once overtook him.

The longing for his bite has become more than a desire; it's a chant that loops endlessly in my mind. I yearn for it, for him, with an intensity that borders on obsession. It's my calming salve, the singular force that can unwind the coiled tension within me like nothing else.

But Mother Nature's untimely entrance effectively dampened any activities Rhyland might be considering, no matter how much my hormones throw a full-blown, tempest-like tantrum. The raging internal battle is fierce, yet here I am, at the mercy of biology's impeccable timing.

The moment for revenge has arrived. It's time to watch and see how he'll respond.

"Not happening," I declare with unwavering conviction, locking eyes with him—my stare blazing with pure, unshakable will. His growl rouses my insurgent side, urging me to hold firm even as it kindles a separate hunger within me. "You won't win this one with a growl and a glare."

My breath hitches as he murmurs against my lips. "Angel, I'm losing control here. Tell me what it is you want."

"I—I can't right now," I stammer, the message clear in my head but tangled on the way out.

His brow furrows in confusion at first, and then he smells the air. A switch flips, illumination washing over his features as realization dawns—clear and unmistakable. Embarrassment creeps up hot and sudden at his recognition of my condition. It's one thing to deal with biology privately, but something else entirely when laid bare before someone else, especially Rhyland in such a raw moment.

My expression is a mix of disbelief and a slight hint of exasperation as I meet his gaze. "You can't be serious?" The words leave my lips, punctuating the absurdity of the moment—a question, a challenge.

His tone is laced with a teasing edge, the words practically oozing sarcasm as sweet and thick as honey. "Hi. Have we met?" he quips, a mischievous gleam lighting his eye. "I'm a vampire,baby. What do vampires love?" His knowing look says it all as he gently needles the obvious while managing to break the tension with his humor.

My eyes widen, fixed on him, utterly incredulous. The audacity leaves me speechless. The notion of it sets my mind reeling from taboo to intrigue—Rhyland is not just unbothered by it but almost…eager?

"No. You can't—that's just—"

Effortlessly, Rhyland moves us to the shower bench—a mere blur. Once settled—me seated andRhylandkneeling between my legs—his question is direct and practical in its intimacy. "How many days are you in?"

"Two," I snap back quickly.

"And you're in pain."

I look at him, my nod loaded with a silent, 'Well, congratulations, Sherlock—cramps aren't exactly a secret womanly joy.' His perception might be sharp as a tack, but right now, it's just another reminder of the unwelcome guest cramping my style—and everything else.

Without a word, he yanks my thighs apart, baring me to his expert mouth. He nips at my inner thigh, causing me to buck on the bench. His tongue finds my clit, circling and sucking with urgency. A blush of embarrassment washes over me at the intimacy of the act.

Holy hell! Thank goodness I'm showered and not a heavy bleeder; otherwise, this would be a crime scene.

As good as it feels, every instinct tells me to push him away, to preserve some decorum. I don't know if I'm prepared to plunge into these forbidden depths just yet.

I gracefully close my legs and rise, heading back to the shower sprayer. Rhyland, ever attentive, encircles me with his strong arms, his skilled hands finding my breasts. He massages them tenderly, pinching my erect nipples as I release a soft moan. His lips and tongue dance along my neck, causing my body to melt into his embrace.

He trails his hand down to my clit, circling it slowly and gently with his fingers, testing me.

Suddenly, I sense Lucian's presence in my mind, his thoughts reaching out. There's a hint of jealousy, but he knows I belong to Rhyland. His thoughts project into mine, imagining himself with me—still, he can't help but appreciate the passion, wondering when he might find his own mate.

The sensation adds a new layer of excitement, further stoking my arousal.

This cannot be fucking happening right now!

In the midst of my confusion and the exquisite pleasure Rhyland is bestowing, I try to connect with Lucian mentally. I focus on a different frequency—one I've never explored before. It's faint, but I sense it.

"Lucian?" I call out to him mentally. "Why am I hearing you?"

"Dani? What the hell? Can you hear me?" His surprise is evident in his thoughts.

Panic washes over me, and I swiftly erect my mental walls, blocking him out.

My mind races, struggling to make sense of the unexpected connection.

And why now?

Rhylandmust sense my little mental escapade. He stops, flips me around, and locks eyes with me, "What is it?"

I play the stupid card, "Nothing, just um—"

Rhylandgives me a pointed look, clearly not buying my attempt at a quick excuse.

"I'm just... not ready to have you dive into... you know? That…yet," I say, stumbling over my words as I try to explain my unease with him being intimate while Mother Nature has her unwelcome say.

"Hmm," he hums, threading his gentle hands through my hair. He's still not buying it, and I know I need to distract him. And what better time to dish out my payback for that bullshit edging game he left me in earlier? Two can play at this game.

I press my body against his, feeling the hard planes of his muscles slick from the shower. I tilt my head up, my lips brushing against his ear as I whisper, "There's…other things we can do. Something that will make you forget all about your questions."

I lock eyes with him, a smoldering look promising a world of pleasure and sin.

"But first, I think we should finish getting cleaned up." My voice purrs as I reach for the soap. Lathering it between my palms, I drag my hands across his massive chest, shoulders, and arms.

Steam rises like a cloud of forbidden desires as the warm water cascades over us. My fingers trail down his chiseled chest, teasing and tempting. A mischievous grin crosses my lips.

His breath hitches, his desire tangible. "Oh, yeah? What've you got planned, baby?"

I trail open-mouth kisses down his neck, savoring his taste. I work my way down his chest, paying extra attention to his hard nipples, flicking them with my tongue and biting gently. A groan rumbles from his chest as he tangles his hands in my hair, urging me on.

I reach down, my soapy hands gliding over his thickness. With each stroke, he moans. "Every inch of you needs to be spotless," I purr, smirking at his reaction.

His rough hands grasp me, his kiss feral and demanding, his tongue claiming mine. My strokes become bolder, my touch teasing as I move faster.

He hisses as I cup his balls, sending jolts of pleasure through him. His reaction fuels my boldness.

"Fucking hell, baby," he grunts. "Keep stroking, just like—fuck—don't stop."

The suds froth with the friction, building as I work him faster. His mouth hangs open, his breathing ragged, his hips thrusting into my fist.

"You want to come, big boy?" I tease. "Want me to milk this big fat cock of yours?"

The dirty words spill from my lips, urging him on. His body is taut, his desire tangible.

"Goddamn, yes." His voice is raw. "Your dirty mouth is going to be the death of me."

A naughty smile plays on my lips as I stroke him faster. "You like your girl filthy? Going to paint me with your cum?"

He bucks at the image. "Fuck, yes, I want you to swallow it," he grits out. "I'm close, Angel. So fucking close."

"Ouch—my hand!" I gasp dramatically, my voice dripping with feigned concern. "It's just so... cramped. How unfortunate." I pull my hand away, leaving him teetering on the brink, his breath coming in sharp pants.

With a cheeky wink and a mischievous grin, I duck out from under him, leaving him high and dry (well, maybe not so dry, given the circumstances). I can't help but feel a little smug as I take in his bewildered expression, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Oops, did I leave you hanging?" I ask innocently, my smile as sweet as sugar but with a devilish glint in my eyes that betrays my true intentions. "How terribly rude of me."

I turn my back, continuing my washing ritual as if I didn't just deny him the climax he craved.

His growl is feral, a mix of raw frustration and barely contained desire. It echoes off the shower walls, a primal sound that sends shivers down my spine. But there's a hint of amusement in his voice when he finally speaks, a low, rumbling laugh that vibrates through his chest.

"Fucking hell, woman," he grits out, his eyes narrowing as they lock onto mine. "Playing dirty, are we? I see how it is."

He shakes his head, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his obvious irritation. "Payback's a bitch, isn't it, baby?"

I can't help but grin wider, my eyes sparkling with mischief and a hint of triumph. "Oh, you have no idea, babe," I purr, my voice laced with playful challenge. "But don't worry, I'm sure you'll find a way to... even the score."

His eyes flash with a mix of irritation and admiration, a potent cocktail that only fuels the fire between us. "Oh, I'll even the score alright," he promises, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "And when I do, you'll be begging for mercy, little girl."

The mood shifts like a record scratch, the playful tension evaporating in an instant.Rhylandtowers over me, his eyes narrowing as he pins me with a look that sends a shiver down my spine. "I'm glad you had your little fun," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Now, when you're ready to come clean about what went on up here..." He taps the side of my head, his touch gentle but firm. "I'll be waiting."

With that, he turns on his heel and leaves me alone, gaping after him like a fish out of water—my heart pounds in my chest, a mixture of excitement and trepidation coursing through my veins.

Fuck.

I lean against the wall, legs unsteady. I can't keep this from him forever, but the thought of revealing my connection with Lucian sends anxiety through my stomach. How will Rhyland react? Angry? Jealous?