“It’s not.”
Another lie. Another goddamn splinter under my skin.
“Sure it’s not, brother,” he says, voice low and smug.
I shove past him.
The girls are still giggling. Still whispering as if this is the beginning of some fairytale where the monster becomes prince by morning. They don’t know I’m not a beast with a heart buried under layers of pain.
They don’t know the story ends with ash.
I drag them upstairs, careless with my movements. They stumble over each other, laughing as they strip, dropping their dresses like offerings at my feet. One kneels. The other kisses up my spine. Their mouths are eager. Their touches practiced.
It’s nothing. It’s noise.
They smell like fruit-flavored lip gloss and borrowed perfume, and all I can think about is the scent of Lillien’s skin after she’s fed—salt and sex andpower. Something primal. Something earned.
The brunette straddles me first. She moans as she sinks down, back arching as if it means something. Her friend kisses at my throat, dragging her nails across my chest like she wants to leave a mark deep enough to matter.
I close my eyes—and all Iseeis her.
Not because I miss her. Not because I need her. But because I want her tohurt. I want her toknow. I want to rip her open the way she’s ripping me, from the inside out.
I fuck them like they’re nothing. Like they’re tools. Like they’re vessels I can fill with someone else’s name until I’m empty again.
The blonde pants into my ear. The brunette rides harder, moaning with every bounce. “You like that?” one of them asks, breathy and fake. “You want more?”
I want to laugh. Truly laugh.
I’m not a man. I’m the nightmare that sleeps in men’s shadows. The thing that watches from the dark when they think they’re alone. I’ve watched kingdoms burn and gods beg. And here they are, trying to make me come as if I am as easy as a mere mortal man.
I let them try.
I move with them. Let the rhythm take me, hips snapping, hands digging into flesh I’ll forget the second I blink.
And then—Ifeelher. The bond tightens. A rope around my ribs, yanking hard. My breath stutters. My cock pulses—not for the girl above me, but forher.
Lillien. She’s home.
Downstairs. Moving through the house like the coming of a storm. Her steps are thunder. Her scent is lightning. Her fury crackles through the air, sharp enough to draw blood.
I don’t stop. I just smile. Slow. Cruel.Welcoming.
The door to my room is cracked. I left it that way on purpose. The lights are low, the air thick with moans and the scent of sweat and arousal.
Let her see. Let her burn. Let hershatter.
The blonde is still kissing me. The brunette still grinding. But I’m not here anymore. Not really. I’m standing at the edge of a battlefield, grinning through bloodied teeth, waiting for the first arrow to fly.
The girl on top shudders. Her moan breaks. She might be coming. Or faking it. I couldn’t care less.
Because this? This isn’t about her. It’s about what happens the moment Lillien opens that fucking door.
And sees exactly how far I’m willing to go to make her come undone.
Let the war begin.
TWENTY-FOUR
