23. No Restraints

Echo throws me onto the bed without any remorse. He doesn't care about my bleeding feet or palms or that I have bruises along my waist where the excess skin got tied up too tightly by the corset.To be frank, I don't care about any of those things either. If anything, in this moment, I like them.

"Make the sheets white," I breathe, looking into his wild eyes. "I want to watch my blood soak into them."

He cocks his head to the side, like that surprised animal again, as he jumps onto the bed, legs crouching on both sides of my knees. His hair cascades down and tickles my legs. It looks like a straight waterfall of ink that shines in the moonlight.

"I like the new you," he replies. Then, with the grace of a cat, he puts his hands on the mattress at the height of my naked chest and rolls slowly until his face hovers just above mine.Something changes color in my peripheral from black to white, and I know he's done what I asked of him. He listened to me.

"I like you," I exhale, and put a finger on his lips again. This time, he doesn't let me take it away. He grabs it with his teeth and forces me to slide inside his sharp mouth. And the way he shudders when my blood meets with his tongue… Oh, god.

I watch him, fascinated. Scared. Turned on to the nines. My emotions are a whirlwind, leaving me dizzy and breathless. Every moment with him has been like this lately, though I've been too stubborn to admit it until now. Even when he was with the other Claire, right there in front of me, I struggled to keep my composure. Only his shadows held me back from rubbing my thighs together.

I like the turmoil he causes inside me. I like how I hate the powerlessness he binds me with. I like how my skin tingles when he sucks the blood from my body.

"So sweet," he slurps over my digit. "So fucking delicious…"

His mouth opens as he rolls his eyes, his spine arching, neck stretching, and deep rumble sounding off in his chest.

This demon is mine.

"More," I purr, spreading my legs so wide that they touch his. His skin is ice cold, making me shudder. "Take more."

Last night he told me he couldn't take more because he might have consumed me whole if he did. This time, that problem seems to have vanished because there's no hesitancy in his white-less eyes. There's only pure hunger and desire.

Probably my speed-healing is the reason for that.

"What do you want me to do to you?" he asks, surprising me. "I declare you deserve a reward. I'll give you one. Name the pleasure and it's yours."

"I'm your good girl?" I tease him, remembering how just recently he threatened to punish me.

"Now, you're the best girl."

My own mouth pops open, teeth biting on my lower lip. There are so many things I might request of him. I could ask him to repeat the way he made love to me as my spirit guardian. I could ask him to feed me the rose petals again. I could chase the pleasure without the pain.

But I don't want any of that right now.

"The things you've done to the other Claire," I say. "Do them to me."

A dark smile slashes his black, bloodied lips. My finger drops to the white mattress, new puncture wounds causing maroon liquid to sink into the sheets.

"As you wish, my Little Soul."

His hands, cold and firm, trace the contours of my body, igniting a feverish anticipation. His nails graze my skin, drawing thin lines of crimson. My body writhes under him, a canvas for his dark desires.

I want to see him paint me. I want to see him mark me as his.

"You're going to suck my cock first," he coos. His claws retreat from my skin as he shifts higher up on the bed, one knee brushing against my shoulder while the other extends to the bedrest. In a swift motion, he unzips his leather pants, letting his cock spring free right by my face. "Make it nice and wet for me," he murmurs, the chill of his breath tingling my skin. "Take it all the way to your tight little throat."

"Yes." I salivate.

The first time he commanded me to take him into my mouth in his demonic form, I was sure I'd die. I never imagined my fear would turn him on so much. But it did. Now, it's not just my fear that drives him wild. It's my willingness to bleed for him.

Without hesitation, I wrap my fingers around his length and open my lips wide to suck him in. I'm not careful or slow. This is not what he wants. He wants me wild and intense just like he is. I want that too.

No restraints. No inhibitions. Nothing stopping me from letting go.

This… This is my escape. This is the freedom that I've craved for so long.

I take him deep, feeling my throat stretch around him, barely keeping the gag reflex at bay. His groan is a deep, primal sound that resonates through me, urging me on. His hands tangle in my hair, guiding my movements with a fierce urgency that matches my own desire. I feel his claws grazing my scalp making my eyes roll back.

It feels divine.

He tastes just like I remember—salty, musky, and with the aftertaste of a rose at the very end. It's intoxicating, making me make humming moaning noises around him.

And then, he pushes even deeper than I thought possible. Tears wet my eyes. Breath stops in my airways. Veins bulge on my neck.

"Good girl," he rasps, his voice thick with lust. "So fucking good…"

His praise sends a jolt of pleasure through me, and I redouble my efforts, my tongue swirling around the base of his cock, my lips pressing tight. Using my hand, I rub his balls, massaging them to make him feel even better. Blood smears all over him.

I can feel him tensing, his breathing becoming ragged. I know he's close, and I want to push him over the edge. With my free hand, I blindly look for his mouth. It's not hard—his teeth feel like little deadly knives among the hard planes of his face. He's panting with his mouth open now, and I don't waste the opportunity. I scratch myself against his fang, making him taste me.

That does it. With a final, deep thrust, he comes, hot and fast, down my throat. His teeth clamp down on my finger as his claws sink in my scalp.

Pain, pleasure, and the taste of the rose flood me. I swallow eagerly, savoring the taste, the sensation, the power of knowing I can bring him to this.

His body shudders as he rides out his release, his grip on my hair loosening just enough for me to pull back and gasp for air. I wipe the tears from my eyes and look up at him, his chest heaving, his eyes glazing.

The depravity of this moment… It makes my whole body pulsate with need. I'm so pleased with myself that it gets me on a completely new kind of high.

I did it. I made him come from the taste of my blood.

"You're the best thing I've ever tasted," he whispers, pulling out of my mouth and positioning himself above me again. His knees sink into the mattress as one of his hands wraps around my throat. "The most delicious little soul I've ever had."

I feel lightheaded as he restricts the flow of oxygen to my brain, but his words send waves of pleasure through me. My pussy swells and my nipples harden like tiny diamonds.

Why did I ever dislike the way this demon hurts me? Why was I so terrified of pain that I couldn't see how much better everything was with it?

Fear is a powerful tool. It can destroy success, hard work, and potential—it can ruin everything. But there's another side to fear that most people don't understand. Fear can also intensify experiences. I see it now. Uncertainty heightens every sensation in my body. I can't tell if pain or pleasure awaits. But either way, it's perfect. Either way, it's intense.

"You're mine," he whispers, his voice a possessive growl. "Every inch of you."

I nod, unable to speak, my throat raw and aching from his roughness. But I want more. I want to be consumed by him, to feel every bit of the pain and pleasure he can give me.

Before I can take a breath, he's moving, his body a blur of motion. He lets go of my throat and grabs my wrists. He pulls me up, flipping me onto my stomach with a fluid grace that leaves me dizzy. His weight presses down on me, pinning me to the bed.

I brace myself as his hand snakes down my back, claws grazing my skin, leaving red welts in their wake. His hot breath finds the crook of my neck and I shudder when his long, wet tongue runs over my sensitive skin.

"Breathe, Little Soul," he commands. "If you're not conscious during this, I'll whip your skin until it splits open."

Only when his words make a jolt of electricity travel down my spine do I realize that I still haven't taken that breath that my body craves. In a sharp motion, I let the air flow into my lungs, stretch my chest, and arch my spine even more so that my ass presses into his groin.

"Just like that," he purrs.

Without a warning, his face disappears from my neck. He sits up, his cold thighs pressing against mine. Then, I feel him spreading my ass cheeks brutally and my heartbeat quickens.

There's a moment of pause. It makes me feel like I'm a meal that he's about to devour. Before tasting me, he wants to watch me first. He wants to feed his senses with me one by one—sight, touch, smell, the sounds my pussy makes when he spreads me further.

And the anticipation… The anticipation is killing me. I'm a slave to it—my hips wiggle from the sheer pent-up build-up inside me.

"Such a perfect little toy," he groans, his voice a deep rumble that vibrates through me. "So eager to please."

Finally, he runs a claw over my lower back, cutting the skin. The pain is sharp, deep. I shriek from the sensation but keep still, enjoying the way the warm blood starts trickling down my ass moments later.

That's what happened to the other Claire. That's what, back then, I thought I could never handle… But I… I love this.

There are wet, slick sounds that let me know Echo is coating his cock with my blood. They send a thrill through me, and I arch my back, eager to feel him inside me already.

When he enters, he's not gentle. He's just like his true self—merciless, taking, unapologetic. His cock thrusts inside my ass with no preparation and with a brutal rhythm that he sets straight off.

I scream in pain, clenching the white sheets with my rock-cut palms. The crimson stains spread beneath me, the blood soaking slowly into the fabric. My mind fogs and the room starts spinning. But just as torturous it is, it's also freeing. The fear is not my enemy anymore. It only drives me closer to the edge.

His nails dig into my hips, drawing more blood, the sharp sting waking up my pleasure. I cry out, my voice muffled by the pillow, but he hears me. He always hears me.

"Yes," he growls, quickening his pace. "Scream for me."

I can't hold back. My moans turn to loud screams as the pleasure builds, each thrust pushing me closer to the brink. His hands grip me tighter, his claws digging in, marking me as his. I feel the blood trickling down my thighs, mixing with my arousal. My pussy pulses so strongly that each heartbeat sends waves of sensation to my aching clit.

It's madness. It's pure insanity.

Echo leans down, his teeth grazing my shoulder, biting just enough to break the skin, and that's what does it. I clench around him, my orgasm crashing over me like a tidal wave. My vision goes white, my body convulsing with the intensity of it.

He follows me over the edge, his roar of release echoing in my ears. His body tenses, his claws sinking deeper as he empties himself inside me for the second time today.

For a moment, we stay like that, bodies entwined, breath mingling. Then, with a satisfied sigh, he pulls out, his touch more gentle now as he turns me over. Black eyes find mine.

"Are you satisfied with your reward?" he asks.

My mouth opens slowly. I want to say yes. I want to tell him that if this is how eternity's supposed to look like then… actually, it couldn't be better.I could live with that. I could spend it with him. Maybe I could be happy. Maybe I'd never be truly afraid again. After all, why fear the darkness if you embrace it?

But my voice fails me. My vision fades to black, and my body goes numb. I can't speak. I can't move. I don't think I'm even breathing.

I think... I think I'm dying. I think my soul is disintegrating.