He was clearly lost in one.
I rolled my hips, grinding against him, feeling his nice cock surge and swell inside me. “This is real, Baylen.”
He was hard, wounded, and finally given the thing he had wanted our entire lives.
. . . Cursing me for the rest of my life . . .
“You did it, Bay. You brought me back to the light.”
His eyes shot open, consternation threading his brow as he stared past my heavy breasts to my face. “What was that?”
“Shh,” I murmured, and put my hands on his chest so I could slam down harder against his thighs. “I’m only giving you what you deserve.”
A loud clamor picked up outside his bedroom door, emanating from down the hall. The sound of thudding boots filled the space, growing louder and then dimming as they receded. Voices joined the boots, shouting, the words muffled.
My body tensed on top of Baylen.Shit. They know I’ve escaped from my room.I inadvertently clenched on Baylen’s cock, and he sputtered.
“S-Seph? What’s going on?” His voice was little more than a croak.
I stared down at him. Something in my eyes had changed. The softness, the dreamy, haunting quality, was replaced by a menacing visage that made his features twist with fear.
He opened his mouth to cry out. “D-Dimmon! Are you out—mmmph!”
My hand slammed over his mouth. I snarled and leaned close. “How dare you speak that name in front of me, inside me, Baylen.”
He yelled into my palm. His hips bucked, trying to get me off him. But he was too weak and I was too heavy—a tall, strong girl I’d become.
I reached behind me. Not for his cock this time.
A chorus of new boots and shouts echoed out in the hallways. Something big was happening out there.
I leaned forward, kissing the trio of scars on his face—the ones he had gotten for me. Then I whispered in his ear, “Don’t worry, Bay, Dimmon will be joining you soon enough.”
His eyes bulged—
A silver blur appeared in my hand.
I lifted my palm from his mouth and dragged the dagger across his throat before he could open his lips and scream.
Baylen gurgled as a thin line of blood cascaded down his neck. He came at the same time, releasing his seed as his hands moved from my hips to his ruined throat, trying to stifle the waterfall of red pouring between his fingers.
He was dead within seconds. I watched the light go out of my childhood friend’s eyes, even as his cock stayed hard and swollen inside me, pulsating to the rhythm of the heartbeat flowing out of his neck.
I looped my leg over and stepped off him and the bed. As his blood pooled around his head and neck, I frowned at the monster I had created.
And the monster I had become.
“Thus ends your curse over me, Baylen Sallow. I will never again be a pawn in other men’s schemes. From tonight on, I write my own story.”
Part
Three
“I am impressed, Lady Lock.”
Madame Kleora, the chronicler, prison warden, and vampiric thrall to Overseer Verant, sits back from her writings, drumming her long-nailed fingertips on the edge of the table. Not an inch of surface is spared from her parchment, now stacked high and wide in a haphazard way.
Given her porcelain doll appearance, her neatness, I thought her organizational skills would be tidier. Alas, she seems in a rush to jot my story down before her liege arrives to drain my blood and send me to the underworld.
