Chapter 17

B y the time we return to the house, it’s past midnight, and I find myself leaning against the doorway, watching Lauren as she studies her new surroundings. Darian offered her one of the spare rooms in the same wing as mine so we could be close. The sentiment makes me feel things I shouldn’t, and I can almost hear the ice cracking as it melts around my heart.

Lauren stares at the countless scattered cushions on the queen-sized bed for long moments before she hauls her suitcase onto the sheet and zips it open with her back to me, carefully folding and arranging her meager belongings in a pile. “Mr. Visage let me keep a few things he bought for me while I was his Pawn. It’s not much but…”

She’s right. It’s not. I make a mental note to take her shopping first thing in the morning if I can sweet talk Darian into letting us leave the property.

“I hope you will be comfortable here,” I say. “Darian is… Well, he’s not bad.”

She looks at me over her shoulder with a raised brow, then turns back around and continues unpacking the suitcase. “I exchanged one cage for another.”

I frown, pushing off the doorframe. “It’s not ideal, I know, but at least he won’t hurt you like that asshole?—”

She slams the lid shut. “Why are you defending him? We’re prisoners, Cecilia. This situation isn’t normal.” Her shoulders slump, and she looks at me with frustration as I come to stand beside her. “Out there in the real world, people don’t get a green card to murder and commit crimes every ten years. They don’t get away with human trafficking.”

“This isn’t the real world.” It’s a sobering thought but doesn’t make it any less true.

“Is it true?” she asks, busying herself by folding a top.

“Is what true?” I reach for an item and help her fold it.

“You were born into this world? The daughter of an Elder?”

I don’t like the way she sneers when she says Elder. My father may have been a monster, but my mother was a good person. And no matter how despicable my father was, I can’t erase all the good childhood memories I have of him.

“Yes,” I reply, refraining from elaborating. “It’s true.”

“What happened?”

“The Exodus happened. Reckoning night.”

I feel her watching me, but I focus on folding the clothes. Lauren would never understand even if I tried to explain my reasons for joining the Antichrist. Unlike me, she was born a regular member of society. Her mother was an accountant, and her father worked as an electrician.

Then one night, they happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time and were spotted by a group of Pawns as they walked home after a meal at a friend’s house on Reckoning night.

Lauren, orphaned at the tender age of nine, moved in with her grandmother, who was going through chemotherapy. After her passing, Lauren found herself without a legal guardian when she was fifteen, and that’s how she stumbled upon the Antichrist. An angry teen with nothing left to lose.

I place the folded pants on top of the pile nearest to me. “I joined Antichrist for the same reasons as you.”

Lauren remains silent, waiting for me to continue as she takes a seat on the mattress.

“We’ve both lost people we love.”

Her eyes meet mine, glassy with pain. I wish a magic eraser could make it all go away. That we could be kids again in a world where our parents weren’t murdered for shits and giggles. It’s all so fucking pointless.

Our parents, Keith, and Carlo.

They all died for nothing.

“I was orphaned, too, by the Exodus. My father disappeared on Reckoning night, and my mother died in a car crash years later. I didn’t lie. I just…” I pinch the bridge of my nose and shake my head, trying to swallow down the thick lump congesting my throat. When I speak, my voice is choked with suppressed emotion. “I didn’t know how to tell anyone who my father was.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

I lower my hand. “You tell me. Would you have welcomed me if you knew I was born into the secret society responsible for the death of your parents?”

She observes me for a moment, then stands up and pulls me in for a hug. I cling to her while breathing in her clean floral scent, grateful she’s here. “We’ll be okay,” she says, and I squeeze her tighter. “I know.”

“What happens now?”

If only I knew the answer.

An ache starts up in my heart as my thoughts drift to the man in the other wing. What is he doing now? Is he asleep?

Struck by the urge to see him, I disentangle myself. “You should get some sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Lauren wipes tears from her cheeks, then glances behind her at the bed. She turns back and gestures to the room. “Thank you for this. I’m really grateful.”

“It was all Darian.” I squeeze her hand. “Try to get some rest.”

“Goodnight,” she says as I exit the room and hurry toward Darian’s wing.

It’s a quiet night, with no wind whistling through the windows or trees tapping insistently against the glass. I turn left and pad softly on bare feet down the hallway until I reach his room. A muted light spills onto the floor through the gap in the door, suggesting he’s either awake or sleeping with the light on.

I carefully push down on the handle and peek inside. Anyone else would knock, but I still haven’t decided if I’m brave enough to talk to him or if I simply want to spy on him without his knowledge.

He’s not in bed, and the room is empty.

Curious, I inch inside, sweeping my gaze over every piece of furniture. Although I’ve been in his room before, something feels different tonight.

The air is different and smells of him, heady and warm—an alluring scent that settles in my nostrils like a seductive trail of kisses on the curve of my neck. I shiver as I glance at his unmade bed, the sheets creased and inviting.

I take a step forward, but I gasp when a hand clamps over my mouth from behind, pulling me against a firm chest. Darian’s low voice reaches my ear. “Did you think you could sneak in and kill me?”

A shiver runs through me as I feel his hard length press against my lower back.

His fingers trail a teasing path up the inside of my thigh, lifting my skirt as his other hand covers my mouth to muffle my whimpers.

“How were you going to do it? Shoot me?”

My knees nearly buckle when his fingers drag over my panties in a slow tease with enough pressure to make my clit pulse, yet it’s not enough.

“Stab me in my sleep?”

He smacks my clit, and my muffled cry fills the room.

“With what weapon, Mrs. Delacroix? You’re not very prepared.” Shifting my panties aside, he palms my pussy while chuckling in my ear. “So wet for me already.”

In a swift move, he spins me around and grips my throat, backing me toward the bed. I claw at his wrist, desperate for a sliver of breath, but he remains an unmovable mountain.

When my calves connect with the bed, he shoves me, and I topple back, bouncing on the mattress. Before I can catch my breath or sit up, he kneels over me and presses a pillow over my face.

“Maybe you planned to smother me to death? Like this?”

Panicked, I kick out with my feet and buck my hips, but I can’t shift him no matter how hard I thrash. I can’t breathe. I can’t…

Darian growls as he bats off my grappling hands, then smacks my thighs apart to squeeze my pussy. “Such a wet little cunt. You like this, don’t you, Mrs. Delacroix? You like a firm hand.” He slaps my cunt hard, and I freeze for a moment before my fight renews.

As his grip on the pillow loosens, I inhale greedily, but he immediately covers my face with his large hand. I bite down on the fabric, but the cushion is too thick.

Darian laughs coldly and slides his middle finger inside my cunt. “Fuck, baby. You’re worked up, huh.”

A shameful moan slips from my lips because he’s right, and I bite down on my tongue to stop it, but it’s too late. My fight has ceased, and now I’m squirming instead—squirming for more.

Darian removes the pillow and pats me on the cheek. “Good little wife.”

“Fuck you!” I sneer, angling my hips to take his pumping finger deeper. “Dammit, why do you have to be such an asshole?”

“Would you love this so much if I weren’t?” he asks, stretching me with a second finger. “Look at what a mess you’re making of my hand. Such a dirty little slut.”

I push up on my elbow and reach for him, but he smacks my hand away and grabs my chin. When pain erupts where his fingers dig in, I find myself moaning.

I’ll sport bruises tomorrow, but it’ll be worth it. So fucking worth it.

“Listen to that greedy cunt. It missed me.”

“I don’t fucking think so,” I reply, the words muffled in his ruthless grip. “You could be anyone.”

His eyes turn a lethal shade of cobalt. “Shut your mouth. I’m not just anyone. I’m your husband.” He releases me, pushing up on his knees and shoving his briefs down to reveal his engorged dick, and then strokes it in front of me. “And this is the only cock you get to worship.”

I wet my lips in anticipation. Everything about him is perfect, from his chiseled chest to his defined V and veiny dick. It’s unfair how attractive he is.

He tangles his fingers in my hair and guides me closer to his balls. “Let me see you suck on them.”

“And what if I don’t want to.”

“Do you always have to fight me on everything?”

“Would you like me as much if I didn’t?”

His lips pull up in a wicked side smirk. “Suck on my balls like an eager wife, or I’ll suffocate you with the pillow again. Maybe I’ll even kill you this time.”

“You won’t kill me.” I make a show of dragging my tongue over his balls, humming low in my throat. “You like me too much.”

“I like the tears in your eyes when panic sets in,” he snaps. “Now shut that mouth and do as you’re told.”

“If you wanted a pliant wife, you really made a mistake when you forced me to marry you.”

A growl rumbles in his chest, and he shoves his dick into my mouth, clearly fed up with my attitude, unbothered that my teeth graze along his shaft. If anything, I think he likes a lick of pain with his pleasure.

My hands fly up to his muscular thighs, and I try to push him away, but he holds my head in place with both hands and fucks my face like I’m nothing more than an object—a hole for his cock.

Every time his dick hits the back of my throat, I gag, and he praises me.

“That’s it, baby. Such a good girl.”

“Open that throat for me. Your mouth was made to be fucked.”

“I’m going to come so damn hard down your throat, you’ll choke to death on my cum. The coroner will class it as an accidental drowning.”

The last part made my pussy flutter something fierce, and I tremble, barely able to cling to his thighs while he pistons his hips.

His pubes tickle my nose as I look up at him with teary eyes, saliva dripping down my chin. With one final grunt, he shoves my face against his groin, his cock buried so deep down my throat that I can feel it pulsing his release. He stares at me with intense heat and desire in his darkened gaze, and I feel myself melt against him as he strokes my damp hair away from my forehead. “You’re a vision with your husband’s cock down your throat, Mrs. Delacroix.”

I swallow around Darian’s length, and a wave of nausea cramps my stomach. Gagging, I dig my nails into his thighs again as he holds me in place with his hand behind my head. “Suck it.”

But you’ve already come…

He lifts his brow and smirks, as if he can hear my thoughts. “What are you waiting for?”

As his grip lightens, I greedily suck his softening cock, and it doesn’t take long for it to swell again and grow even harder than before. I trail my tongue over each angry vein, then flick the tip through a bead of precum on his crown.

“Take it deep and hollow your cheeks.”

I look up at Darian, sucking on his cock like it’s a damn lollipop, and then swirl my tongue over his crown.

“Fuck yourself,” he instructs, brushing my hair away from my cheeks as I suck him deep. “I want to hear how wet your pussy is.”

Dipping my hand beneath my skirt, I moan around his length, easing my fingers inside me. My pussy is drenched, so it’s no surprise I meet zero resistance.

“There’s a good girl,” he praises as my head bobs in his hands. “Fuck yourself on your fingers.”

I grind my hips, lost in a heady sea of pleasure, where Darian’s every praise is a siren’s song. I want to please him. To be good for him.

“That’s it, beautiful. Fuck. That feels amazing.”

He wraps my hair around his hand, his tight grip causing my scalp to prickle as he guides my mouth over his cock, setting a steady, ruthless pace. I’m a fuck toy to him—a tool to get him off.

It gets me off, too, when he’s rough like this.

“Look how cock drunk you are. Eyes on me, baby. Let me see how much you like it.”

His cock pops out of my mouth with a wet sound, a string of saliva connecting my lips to his crown, and he juts his chin to my grinding hips. “How many fingers are you riding?”

“Four.”

“Let me see.” He unwinds my hair from his hand and shoves me back onto the bed with his full palm on my face, then spreads my legs obnoxiously wide and stares down at my puffy cunt.

Kneeling like a savage monster, he hikes a finger in my panties and pulls them aside so he can get a better vision.

“Use your other hand to tease your clit.”

A moan fills the room as I strum my bud while curling my fingers inside me. My walls ripple rhythmically and heat swirls low in my core. “I’m about to come,” I pant, biting down on my swollen lip.

Darian strokes his cock while watching me fuck myself like it’s the most erotic sight he’s ever seen. “I want to make such a fucking mess of you.”

“Yeah?” I goad as my pussy clamps down on my fingers. “What do you want to do to me?”

“Come all over you, for starters, and then stretch your cunt with the biggest fucking object I can find.”

“Should I be scared?”

“Of me? Always.” A shudder runs through him as he thrusts forward, letting out a deep groan. Warm ropes of cum rain over my face and body like a reward and drips down my cheeks.

He milks his cock until his balls are emptied, and the last squirt hits my throat and chin. Afterward, he tucks his dick away and smacks my hands away as he positions himself between my legs.

When his warm mouth descends to ravage me, my hips buck off the mattress, and I gasp at the sensation of his wet tongue. Darian brings me to the edge, holding me tightly while he licks and sucks. As his tongue swirls over my clit, I grip the sheets as if I might float away.

“Fuck,” I whimper, grinding against his face.

I’m just about to come when he pulls away and climbs off the bed.

I push up onto my elbows, my pussy pulsing painfully in need of relief. “Where are you going?”

Darian walks over to his dresser and removes a pair of handcuffs and what looks like a monster dildo.

I lift my head. “What the fuck is that?”

As he nears, he studies it. “I’m not entirely sure. I think it’s a dragon cock?”

“A dragon cock?”

“It could possibly be a dinosaur dick.”

“What—”

The words die on my tongue when he tosses the dildo on the bed before kneeling over me and securing my wrists to the headboard. I try to fight his hold on me, but it’s useless, and in no time at all, I’m yanking on the cuffs around my wrists.

“What the hell, Darian?”

“I looked at the other cocks, but they were so lifelike, and I thought to myself: my wife looks like she’d enjoy a dragon cock with scales.”

“Well”—I rattle the cuffs again—“you thought wrong. Next time you want to shop for sex toys to spice up our sex life—don’t. You’ve already proven you shouldn’t be let loose in a sex shop.”

He presses a button and his face lights up. “Look at that; it vibrates.”

“Wow. You deserve a gold star for your observational skills—” My words end in a choking sound when he presses the vibrator against my clit.

“You were saying?”

My wrists pull on the cuffs as I squirm on the bed, fighting off the pleasure. This is now a matter of pride. While a dragon cock could be fun with anyone but my infuriating, intolerable husband, there’s no way in fucking hell I’ll let him get me off.

“Oh, look, you’re making a mess of the scales.” He chuckles as he circles my sensitive clit. “I bet it would feel amazing inside you. What do you say, wife? You love literature, right? What do they call it? Romantasy.”

“Asshole!” I groan, but my hips jut closer as if my body’s working against me.

“You want the dragon cock in your ass? Easy there, tiger. I know you’re eager?—”

With a growl, I try to kick at him, but he easily overpowers me and asks, “Do you know what makes the dragon cock special?” He slides it through my slit until it rests against my slick entrance. “It’s bigger than the others. It’s even bigger than the King Cock. Think you can fit it?”

“You have a thing for size, you pervert?” A moan strangles my vocal cords when he inches it inside me. Fuck. It’s big. So fucking big I’m panting by the time the tip is in.

“You’re going cross-eyed,” he says with another maddening chuckle.

“You know,” I reply, fighting back another choked moan, “if I weren’t shackled to the bed, I would slap your smug face.”

He pulses the dildo inside me, sliding it a little bit deeper with each thrust. “I have to say, Mrs. Delacroix, you look a mess, with a dragon dildo in your cunt while covered in cum like a Picasso painting.”

“What are you doing now?” I ask as he bends me in half and whacks the speed up to max on the vibrator. It’s too much too soon, and I quiver as he works the dildo deep, thrusting harder and faster, until the only sound louder than my moans are the traitorous, obscene wet sounds my pussy makes.

With the dildo fully inside me, he shifts his briefs out of the way with one hand while he traps my ankles with the other.

I’m impressed by my own acrobatic skills. No man has ever held me bent in half like this before. Not that I have a lot of experience with sex, but this is new.

Darian retrieves a bottle of lube from the nightstand, and I crane my neck to see what he’s up to, not wanting him to stop.

Then I feel it.

Pressure against my asshole.

“Relax,” he says when I tense up. “Keep your legs there.” He lets go of my ankles, then thrusts the dildo deeper when it threatens to pop out because I stiffen. “Good girl. It was one of the biggest dildos in the store, and you take it like a fucking champ. Think you can handle your husband’s cock, too?”

I nod as pain burns in my ass. “Y-yes.”

“You want to please your husband, don’t you, baby?”

Another nod as I answer without hesitation. “Very much, but I haven’t done this before.”

A bright smile spreads across his lips. “That’s okay. Relax. Deep breaths, baby.”

I inhale as he thrusts forward. It hurts, but the intoxicating swirling shadows in his eyes make it worth every moment of discomfort.

I never realized before how much I want to please Darian Delacroix. How much I want to make him feel good, or how much I love it when his hair falls over his damp brow and how his lips part with pleasure.

Once his cock is halfway inside my ass, he drags his big hand over my face, smearing the cum, and then he pushes two fingers past my lips, watching me suck on them. “I knew from the very first moment I saw you that you would be this pliant for me. My own fuck toy to use however I want.” His cock twitches in my ass, and I clench around it. “I wanted to break you.” He presses down on my tongue, making me gag as tears spill from my eyes. “Humiliate you, like your father humiliated my mother.”

Before his words can fully register in my hazy mind, he slams his hand over my mouth and buries himself in my ass. The full sensation overwhelms me as the vibrator hits some magical spot within, making me tremble.

He pulls out to the tip before ramming inside me again, and again, and again.

“But then I realized that you get off on humiliation. That you’re as fucked up as I am. And guess what?” Balanced on his forearm, he drags his tongue through the cum on my face and then whispers, “I like it.”

As he straightens up, he removes his hand from my mouth and grips the dildo, thrusting it in sync with his pumping hips. We move together like waves in a clashing of tides, and when an orgasm barrels through me, I yank on the cuffs.

“That’s it, baby. Come for me.”

Darian fucks me so hard the headboard bangs against the wall, and then he pulls the dildo out before thrusting his dick inside my pussy. I’m stretched from the huge toy and can barely feel him, but that seems to be the point.

He grabs me by the throat, gazing into my eyes, and then he crushes his lips against mine as his hot semen fills me up.

“Fuck me, you’re beautiful.” His strangled whisper drips with admiration, his body shuddering.

I lower my legs and wrap them around his waist as he settles on top of me, his prickly cheek resting against my chest.

“Why did you come here tonight?” he asks after a while.

“I wanted to see you.”

His chest lifts and falls with a content sigh. We might be enemies, but this feels like a truce. I’m tired of fighting my desire for this man, even if it’s wrong, even if he turns out to be the man behind my father’s death. The question tastes bitter on my tongue. Would he tell me the truth if I asked him now? Not that it matters because I can’t bring myself to form the words. Instead, I ask, “Why did you make the deal with Mr. Visage?”

Darian rests his chin on my chest, studying my face in dim light. “You care about Lauren.”

My heart gallops at the intensity of his gaze. He’s watching me carefully for my reaction, and when I break eye contact, he crawls up my body.

“She’s your family.” He removes my handcuffs and places them on the nightstand.

I swallow hard as his attention returns to me. “You’re supposed to be a coldhearted monster.”

“Would it be easier to hate me?”

I trail my fingers through his stubbly beard, pausing when he dips his lips to mine.

It’s a tender kiss, soft and gentle, and a promise of more.

He sucks on my bottom lip, then whispers, “I am a monster, but not with you.”

“Will you set Lauren free?”

A crease forms between his brows as he lifts his head. “She belongs to the Exodus now. There’s no out once you’re in.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You have no other choice.”

I try to push him away, upset with his response, but he secures my wrists on the pillow beneath my head and uses his free hand to keep my gaze on his. There’s no escaping Delacroix. He plunders and leaves no one left alive. My soul is no different.

“There’s only one way out of the Exodus.”

I try to yank free of his grip on my jaw, but it’s as solid as concrete.

Darian drags his nose down the bridge of mine. “And it’s in a body bag. At least your friend will be safe under my roof.”

“He beat her.” My voice is a mere whisper as a tear slides from the corner of my eye.

Darian kisses it away. “I know.”

“He’s a monster.”

“He is.”

“How are you any different?”

“I’m not,” he replies, placing kisses on my lids, nose, and mouth. “I won’t ever set you free because I’m a selfish man with selfish desires where you’re concerned.” He gets out of bed, enters the ensuite bathroom, and returns with a bowl of soapy water and a cloth.

My chest warms as he spends long moments stroking the damp cloth through my tender folds until he’s satisfied I’m clean, and then he wipes my face, his eyes on the task as he says, “While I’m a villain in my own right, I promise I’ll never lay a hand on you unless you beg me to.”

I duck my head to hide my blushing cheeks. His words shouldn’t make me want to smile, but they do. “What will Lauren do while she’s here?”

“Anything she wants.” The wet cloth trails down the curve of my chin and throat. “Maybe she wants to spend her days sunbathing in front of the pool or take up pottery.”

I smile despite myself. “I don’t think she’s into pottery.”

After placing the bowl on the floor, he crawls beside me and pulls me into his arms. “I don’t care what she does, as long as you’re happy.”

Dammit. Why does he have to be so sweet when he wants to be?

I snuggle closer, breathing in his earthy scent, and release a content sigh.

My pulse soon slows to a gentle thud, and I kiss the space above his heart, feeling it pound beneath my lips. “Thank you for what you did today.”

His muscles seem to relax, and he holds me tighter. “Sleep, or you’ll be too tired to take my cock tomorrow.”