Then it hits hard, and I finally come back to reality, blinking into myself. My hand is still locked around her throat, my arm trembling and aching from how hard I held her under.
My breath comes out ragged as I quickly release her, but she just stays there—floating beneath the water, unmoving. My eyes are wide, frantic, fixed on her, and then I rip my fingers from her pulsing core, where she finally came.
I scramble to my feet and lean down, instantly scooping her out of the water and as soon as her face surfaces, she’s pale, eyes closed, head lolling back.
My mouth opens to say her name, but nothing comes out—just a hollow sound stuck in my throat, rough and useless. Without any more hesitation, I haul her limp body out of the tub and gently lower her onto the floor.
Kneeled beside her, I stare down, heart hammering in my chest, reminding me I still have one. My hands hover over her body, shaking as my warped mind, twisted and fraying, tries to override the seriousness of what’s in front of me. Her. Mine. Dead.
Don’t fuck her.
Don’t fuck her.
Save her.
Save her.
Finally shoving past the strange voices and the pull in my head, I overlap my hands in the center of her chest, ready to resuscitate her.
I lean in, my face inches from hers, and press down hard once. That’s when her eyes snap open and she explodes, spraying water straight in my face.
I recoil, blinded for a second, then something smashes over my head and glass shatters on impact. Pain splits through my skull as I’m knocked slanting, blood and wine slipping down my face.
I shake it off fast, vision swirling, but as soon as it clears just enough, I see Aurelia on her hands and knees, crawling out of the bathroom like her life depends on it.
That little bitch.
My teeth grind down hard as I start to get up, shards of glass slicing into my hands and knees. I stumble, blood smearing across the floor, then stagger toward the bedroom.
As soon as I reach the door she tried to lock, I lift my foot, booting it open without hesitation, the sound cracking through the trailer.
I step in, slow and calm, and she’s there, hidden behind the hanging chains, pressed back against the mirrored wardrobe, eyes wide, arms out with the jagged neck of the wine bottle still clutched in both hands.
“You almost killed me,” she whispers, her voice barely holding, eyes glassy from the low hallway light. “Again.”
She’s standing there naked, dripping in blood, shaking head to toe, but her legs still wobble from the aftermath of coming hard.
For a second, guilt runs through me, settling like poison in my gut. I start thinking about how I can make it right and what I can do to fix it until she speaks again.
“I’ve never come so damn hard,” she chokes out and my eyebrow twitches at her words.
Did she just say what the fuck I think she said?
“I… I liked it,” she admits, and I draw in a deep breath through my nose, like her confession just split open my fucking ribs. “What the fuck have you done to me, Wrath?”
She asks like I hold the answer. As if I orchestrated it and stitched this disease into her skin.And yeah, maybe I helped, but this? This is her. I thought it might have taken a little longer to unravel her inner kinks or at least force them upon her until she did.
I just did what the fuck I’ve always done. Well, I’m different with her, because I actually want her. Clearly, she’s still breathing and warm. But she’s the one who cracked open her own soul and liked what dark mess spilled out.
She’s not broken. She’s fucking blooming. She’s flourishing in the filth, in the fear, in the disturbed twist of pain turned pleasure.
It’s the first time I’ve seen that demon in her eyes—that darkness slithering around her throat, desperate to be squeezed by my hands, and it’s fucking beautiful. Just like I always knew it would be.
And the way she’s looking at me now, wild and breathless, it’s as if she’s seeing it for the first time too. Like she’s finally meeting the monster inside her and liking the way it tastes.
Her body jolts like something’s cracked loose inside her, then she hurls the jagged bottle neck to the side, the crash of glass exploding across the floor.
Before I can even think, she’s rushing toward me, ducking and weaving through the hanging chains like a possessed little thing. I brace for impact, thinking she’s about to scratch my fucking face off. But instead, she jumps.