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Niko was inside her body, inside her mind.
He took her breath away.
She lowered to her knees, ripping open the second alcohol wipe and cleaning his skin. “Like what?” he rasped, eyes darkening. Hurry up before I ruin you in the middle of a fucking forest. “L-like a dumbbell o-or a b-burger,” she squeaked, her cheeks burning with colour. “Did you mean to talk in my head just now?” “No.” His confusion sparked inside her. “You heard me? What did I say?”
“Make it a heart, mate.” This time it was a growled order, and she fell back to her heels, staring up at him. He blinked, wincing. “I mean … please?” His voice was strangled now. “You can call me that,” she whispered, her skin tingling. He took a moment, probably to catalogue the butterflies in her stomach and her hitched breath before he slowly nodded. He knelt, putting his face by hers, his fingers soft on her chin. “Then, mate—” He kissed her gently, both of them groaning at the soft, fleeting contact. “—please draw a heart and please draw it now.”
Their relationship had changed in the blink of an eye and already, she was losing him.
“Why the fuck didn’t you just let me drown?” He was a wild, snarling animal, shoving away from Gabriel and Elijah and stumbling for a few steps on his own.
What was pain? Pain was breathing. Pain was hearing. Pain was remembering.
Please stay, she begged, gathering the broken mess of her soul about her like a cloak. We can’t take anymore. Please stay.
They were bonded. All of them. They had tethered themselves to her extinguished soul, to the hungry depth of pain that yawned below her, seeming wide and willing enough to swallow them all. They had bonded a corpse.
“Don’t look so glum, you lot,” she rasped, clasping for a fraying thread of humour. “This is … this is … supposed to be romantic.” The joke didn’t land. Probably because she had struggled to breathe in the middle of it.
Oscar pointed at Isobel, his eyebrows drawing together. “You …” He sucked in a breath, holding it like he didn’t know what to say. “T-text us if you need us,” he finally said. She had never heard Oscar stutter before.
There was nothing in its place but the dark void, and nothing to fill that horrifying space except her own poisonous emotion. She had only anger, that what was hers was gone. Only fear, that she would be empty forever. The emotion swirled and churned and bubbled, but that space could only ever be empty, so not even her growing rage could fill her up. It lost form, grew vaporous, and tried to escape through her veins, poisoning her entire body.
She felt so alone.
“For taking your hair, we took her eyes.”
“But she attacked our mate and defiled our bond despite our warning to stay away from you.”
What I’m saying is that we will deliver swift and ruthless justice to anyone who touches you, in a way that doesn’t expose you, until every motherfucker out there finally gets the message that you. Are. Owned.” He cut himself off on a growl, quickly releasing her. “Protected,” he seemed to amend. “Untouchable. You should go.”
“Don’t thank me yet, Carter. You still have a punishment on the way.”
“And your prince charming is now a budding supervillain, so there’s nobody here to make sure the rest of us don’t push you.”
There’s nobody left except Kilian—who is happy to lie about his sexuality as long as Isobel doesn’t stop showering with him.”
“But I’m going to discipline you like you’re mine because you are.”
“Why are you being punished?” he asked, rolling up one of his sleeves.
“What’s the verdict? Good girl or not?”
“You’re mine,” he growled, his grip around her neck tightening. “Nobody hurts what’s mine, not even you.”
“Good luck tonight,” Mikel said before she could open the door. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”
He won’t hurt you.” Mikel paused, his eyes dragging over her, fixing to her belly like he could see the weighted balls forcing her muscles to contract and sending tingles down her legs. “Well … not emotionally, anyway.”
“I see Mikel picked a highly inconvenient night to punish you,” he said, backing off her. “He’s a real asshole,” she returned, because she was nervous and didn’t know what else to say. Kalen grinned at her. “He was nice to you, princess. Let’s go.”
“Understood, Sir.” “We’re not in the room yet, but that was cute.” He bopped her on the nose and spun on his heel, striding toward the edge of the hall. Asshole. She flung the word at the back of his head because she couldn’t be punished for her thoughts, right?
His amber eyes flickered over the satin that clung to her, bunching and stretching in all the right places, and he let out a small groan. “You’re going to look stunning.”
She could feel his awe, and how it filled him with pride that she had given him her trust, and that she had meant it, because he could feel that she had given up all control, happy to let him do whatever he wanted with her.
It was strange, to be able to look at her. To know, objectively, that he had found her beautiful. To see that beauty clear as day … and to wish nothing more than to hurt it.
He wondered what it felt like before, his lust for her. Had it felt as violent? As furious? As disgusting? As possessive?
He hated everything about her except the way she braced herself against the pain,
She dug around for a tennis ball, which she threw at him. “Here. Squeeze this.” His grip flexed around the ball on instinct before he scoffed and tossed it aside. It wasn’t what he wanted to be squeezing. He much preferred the idea of wrapping his hands around her infuriatingly pretty little neck.
She sighed like she was sick of his attitude. Well … fuck her?
“Stop trying to fucking fix me,” he demanded,
“Fuck, I hate you,”
Tell me. This time, he spoke inside her head. Her reply was easier, this way. I was falling for y—
Will you stay?” “I’ll stay,” she promised quietly,
his eyes sometimes soft when he looked at her, and sometimes hard. But he was always looking at her.
She blinked, whipping her head back to Oscar. He knew about the floating feeling? “Have you been tied up too?”
Whatever happens to her down here—just remember she’s the reason it might happen to you too.”
You looked so soft, he whispered into her mind.
“I never get tired of seeing all the beautiful ways you can arrange your body,” he said, fingers flexing. “But forgive me if I can’t watch that again. Not with a crowd.”
She needed this man to stop squeezing her heart so tightly; it was already bleeding so much for him.
“So one day, one of us or both of us are going to break, and you are going to be taken so thoroughly, you won’t even remember a time your insides weren’t coated in our claim. This is a warning, Isobel. Nod for me.”
The bond might be pushing us together, but we don’t fuck with unwilling. Not now, not ever.” He paused, eyeing her, his smile slipping away, replaced by a stern expression. “Unwilling is saying red. Everything else is willing, even if you’re screaming and crying. Just to specify.”
“Are you stalling, Isobel?” “Yes, Sir.” “Do you need me to do it for you?” “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
“It’s always about you, Isobel.”
“Just a minute more,” she sighed, letting her body go limp against Mikel’s. “Just one,” Kalen warned, but she was too busy smiling, because he had called her Illy and because Mikel had tightened his hold of her like he wasn’t going to let her go anyway.
