Catacombs (Cradle of Darkness 0.5) - Page 11

The stranger raised her from the floor. “If it was, would it be your hell or mine?”

With no preamble, he cupped her breast, his tongue wetting his lower lip.

Impulse brought her to raise her arm. She struck him.

All her strength, and the slap didn’t so much as turn his chin. Instead, it inspired ravenously heated eyes and a growing smile full of unsavory promises

Run.

But there was nowhere to go.

The door met her back, the man pressed indecently to her front. Lips came to her ear, warm breath offering, “You may lie upon the bed, legs obediently parted, and I’ll see that you feel the pleasure of my mouth where you itch. Or, you may kiss my hand and beg my forgiveness for such rudeness, and I might find it in my heart to be patient and see to your other needs first.” His hand came to her face, taking her jaw with enough strength to be more sinister than sweet. “But never strike me, child, unless you’d like your night to be one of suffering.”

She had known enough pain in her life. Seeking mercy from a thing that terrified her very soul, she beseeched, “Please. I didn’t mean to kill that man.”

Smirking menacingly, the stranger, Darius, captured her fingers. “Darling, kara sevde.” He did not break eye contact. The ring she’d thrown slid home, nestled where he desired it to be, and then he lifted her fingertips and kissed them. “You have a weakness for desiring to live in the past. I require you live only in this moment. What came before and what will come after do not matter. They do not exist to you. Nothing but this room and my attention exist to you.”

“I don’t understand.”

His hand came back to her breast, the red-eyed man daring her to slap him again. “What is there to understand? I am your everything, and you are my beloved treasure.”

Skin crawling, she knew more than anything that she wanted out of that room—just as much as she wanted the man to stop kneading her breast. “I don’t want to be your treasure.”

A low growl, demonic in nature preceded, “Where is your gratitude today, Pearl? I do not appreciate when you wake in a temper.”

“I belong to God.”

“And what would God do for my darling one? Where are you safer than here? Where could you be more comfortable? As you are, you’re buried so far under the city no soul could ever find you. No one will take you from me. No others will know the taste of sunshine in your veins. I made them all forget. You exist in my world alone.”

Eyes cast to the ceiling, she offered a prayer. “Jesus, help me.”

“There is no God for you but me. There is no heaven waiting for you. I own your soul and your body. I own your mind, daywalker… your blood.” All of this was spoken gently, lovingly, each word acidic and tainted by evil. His voice burned her. “I am your life and your only reason for existence. Without my care, you would live alone in this tomb for eternity… forgotten by the thing you would pray to.”

Stroking her hair, ignoring her incantations to the Christian Lord, he cooed, “Your affection will earn a reward. Give me a kiss and cease these theatrics at once. I’m giving you one chance to avoid punishment today.”

She shook her head.

He caught her hair with clawed fingers and forced her neck to bend where he willed it. On the straining column of her throat he licked a path all the way to her ear. “I told you to kiss me, Pearl.”

Breath shaking, unable to move from the strength of his grip in her hair, Pearl whimpered, stopped the prayer, and gasped when a little sting set her neck to jumping.

“Delicious. Your fear is almost worth the trouble.” A tongue ran over her pulsing vein. “But I have another flavor in mind today.”

Stepping back, he released her hair, smirking as she sagged against rough stone.

Twisted in his sweet offer was a much more sinister threat. “Last chance. Kiss me, beg my forgiveness for your rudeness, and let’s begin anew.”

Pearl didn’t want pain, she’d known enough in her life. She didn’t want terror, but it was staring her in the face. Swallowing, certain she was going to be ill, she reached for the door handle at her back, and found it frozen.

It would not be moved.

If he was keen to the scrambling of her fingers at her back he said nothing, the gloriously beautiful devil seemingly patient.

Brick it shut, he’d said. She remembered the sounds, the human trying to claw his way out. She remembered what this room truly was.

A crypt to be buried in.

There was no way out.

God did not hear her prayers.

Her tongue tripped, and out of her mouth came the only slice of salvation she could reach. “I’m sorry for my rudeness.”

Tags: Addison Cain Cradle of Darkness Erotic
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