“Let me, Vasculo.” Griffin smirks at me, and with quick moves rips away the hand and throws it behind us.
“That was hot,” I murmur, licking my lips again. He follows the movement with his eyes, the man beneath us fading away for a moment as I’m locked under Griffin’s possessives and wild gaze. Only the scream of pain from Derrin interrupts us.
Sighing, I turn to look down at him. “Do you mind? You are being very rude.”
“Fuck you! He wanted it! He fucking loved it, he was so hard—” I slash my hands across his neck to stop the words, Griffin doesn’t need to hear those vile lies.
His eyes widen, tears dripping from his lashes, his mouth dropping open in a gasp. I watch as a bubble of blood forms on his lips as his blood slowly pumps from the wounds. He lifts his good hand to try and stem the flow of blood, so I stab the knife through it, pinning it to his chest as he chokes and struggles. His eyes remain locked on me in terror, true terror, the type you get before you die. I know because I’ve felt the same way.
As he chokes on his own blood, Griffin tangles his hand in my hair and yanks my head around, his lips coming down on mine. Hard. Groaning into his mouth, I arch into his touch, tasting his need and anger on his lips. He pulls away, eyes dark as the outline of his body shakes, almost misting.
“You are magnificent,” he growls. “I feel it, that madness flowing between us, your need, my need. Our need.” He moans, his eyes closing for a second as I watch blood drip down his cheek, the ruby red bright against his pale skin.
My chest heaves, my nipples tightening at the utter dominance as he holds me here, taking his time and even sitting on a dying man. He’s right. I want him. My pussy is slick, feeling empty as I imagine him throwing me to the bed and fucking me. He must see it in his mind, because his eyes open and catch on me, not blinking. In those depths, I see my life and death. If anyone was ever going to kill me, it would be Griffin, and I know I would deserve it.
“Yes, no one else gets to. Your life is mine, always mine to take, Vasculo.” He tightens his hand, tugging my hair and making me cry out, but not in pain. He leans close, brushing his lips against mine. “And you would love it, you would come around my cock even as I drained every last drop of blood from your body, as I killed you, my blade in your heart. You would ask for more.”
“Griff—” I gasp and he growls, biting down on my lip and drawing blood. “Yes, more,” I demand, pulling my lip free and tearing the plump flesh until more blood flows.
He groans at the sight and drags me closer, kissing me with desperate, open-mouthed kisses, the taste of blood and need filling our mouths, and when I pull back, I see my blood coating his chin and lips.
Derrin stops sputtering and I look down to see his eyes are vacant, his mouth open, his lips coated in blood. His neck has started to stitch back together, but his body clearly gave out. I can’t feel him or his power anymore.
He’s dead.
“Huh, he died quickly, shame.” I turn to Griffin. “Guess you will have to entertain me,” I purr, and then dive for him. He rolls us backwards and throws me. I spin and land on all fours on the rug, watching him with black eyes as I grin. His wings are out, his chest heaving, his leather pants slung low and bulging at the front.
He wants this.
He needs this.
A fight to prove he is in control. To prove to himself the strength of his power. I’ll do it gladly, I’ll be his whipping boy for all time, whatever he needs. Even if it’s my death, that’s the dance of me and my fallen. Always.
I love it.
He comes straight for me and I meet him mid-air. He throws me into the ceiling and I fall downwards, grunting as he catches me mid-flight and flies us up, slamming me back into the ceiling next to the chandelier, which shakes from the impact, the twinkling of diamonds filling the air as cracks fracture around it. Laughing, I grip Griffin’s hand which is clutching my throat as he snarls at me.
Darting my head forward, I smash mine into his, and he growls as he falls backwards, blood blooming from a cut on his head as I plummet. I crash into the floor, my stomach flipping, and he’s on me in a second.
He grabs my hair and slams my head into the floor. It rings for a moment as I groan, pain flashing through me, meeting the lust in my stomach and igniting. “Stop fighting me,” he demands.
“Make me,” I taunt, as I crawl forward and grab a decorative vase next to the wall. Turning, I smash it into his skull and roll away laughing as he rears back, clutching his head.
“Dawn,” he warns, his voice deadly. I hear my death in it, his anger...and his need. His need for this, to fight, to get it all out, even if he doesn’t know it.
“Scared, fallen?” I gibe.
He flies at me, cutting through the air with a yell. I roll away from where he lands, but his hand catches my hair and drags me back to him. My spine smashes against his chest as his hand slides around my throat to try and still my thrashing body. “Behave,” he shouts.
“Or what?” I laugh and then I let myself fall forward. He releases my neck to try and stop the fall, and I wiggle from beneath him, grinning even as I pant. This fighting is turning me on like nothing else, and I can feel his desire as well, mounting, wanting. “You will have to catch me if you want to fuck me, Griff.”
He lifts his head, crouched on the floor with his wings behind him, his eyes alight with power. He looks like a god and I catch my breath. “Then you better run, Vasculo,” he advises, his tone low and gravelly.
I stare at him for a moment longer before leaping up and racing towards the door, my feet slipping on the polished wood. I’m moving quickly, but it still isn’t fast enough. I hear the beat of his wings, the air crashing into me before he’s there.
I’m thrown into the door and it closes with a bang as he rips up my dress and presses my face to the gold surface. He kicks my legs apart while I laugh, his hands rough and mean. I hear the hiss of his zipper, loud in the room, as he frees his cock and I start to struggle—I need this too. I need to forget about my fear of what is to come, the dive into the unknown and the odds we’re taking on in just a few hours.
I need him, I need him to control me. To force me, to make me into nothing but a living, breathing pleasure vessel, his to do with as he wishes. This started all about him, but I guess what one needs...the other needs too.
We are twisted together that way.
I push back, using my hands on the door, my muscles straining, and he slams me forward again, making my breath whoosh from me as his mouth meets my ear. “Stop,” he snarls.
“Never,” I pant, and push back again, this time adding some power to it. He goes flying backwards, and I turn with a grin to see him getting to his feet. “That all you got, fallen? Going to let one little girl beat you?”
Sauntering towards him, I run my hand down my thigh, and he watches the movement. “Can’t even dominate your own mate?”
It unleashes something inside him. I see the moment he stops being Griffin, stops being worried about hurting me. He lets everything go until he’s just a feral fallen, his madness leaking into the room and infecting everything. It even sends a spike of fear through me for just a moment. He senses it, his nostrils flaring as he smirks—it only seems to spur him on.
I don’t see him move, he turns to mist and is gone. Turning, I gaze around the room, but I can’t see him.