GLYNDON

The scene unfolds in slow motion.
One moment, Gareth is standing in front of me, and the
next, he’s being thrown against the wall with Killian in tow.
Raw power simmers from him like a deadly volcano. The type
that’s been dormant for centuries and decided to erupt in a
fraction of a second.
I’ve seen Killian as a soulless devil, a ruthless monster, and an
erotic god, but this is the first time I’ve seen him this angry.
And the most terrifying part is that his expression remains
nonchalant, blank even. Despite the solid exterior, one thing gives
away the state of his rage—his dead eyes.
They’re not blue anymore, but more black, almost the same
color as his narrow pupils. Mum once told me that some people
give a ‘back off’ look and it should never be ignored.
This is worse than back off. This is nothing short of a
declaration of war and a thirst to spill blood.
The raw power shakes me to my bones even though it’s not
directed at me.
Gareth, however, smiles, and it’s the widest I’ve seen on his
usually composed face. “What do we have here? The mighty Killer
getting all emotional? We should FaceTime Dad to give him the
news.”
“Listen here, you motherfucker.” Killian’s clipped voice makes
my stomach drop. “I have zero fucks to give about all your
golden-boy actions, but touch what’s mine and I’ll make sure you
pay the price tenfold. You know that, I know that, and your
remaining functioning neurons will know that, too, before I knock
them the fuck out. I’m well aware of what you’re trying to do and
it’s not going to work, so how about you tuck your tail where it
belongs, hmm?”
“I’d say it’s working perfectly. Look at all that rage, that fire,
that destructive energy. How does it feel to lose the mask, little
brother? You want to kill me, don’t you? You’ve fought against
your nature for nineteen years—a whole nineteen years of
blending in, fooling Mom and Dad, Grandpa, Aunt. Everyone. You
did so well and slipped into the crowd effortlessly. You even
became a good boy. A fucking social icon who everyone either
wants to emulate or fuck, but that holds no meaning if you’re
nothing more than a shell, does it?”
My lips part, trembling, and it’s definitely not due to the
violence from a few moments ago. That looks like a kid’s game
compared to this.
It’s like I’m witnessing two titans warring for a position on the
sun. Gareth provoked Killian on purpose, as if he’s waited a long
time to say that.
And the worst part is that Gareth shouldn’t be like this. He
wasn’t born evil, but years of living with someone like Killian
must’ve taught him a thing or two. And right now? He’s using the
words he knows will hurt his brother the most.
But at the same time, is it really right to use someone’s
weakness against him? How can we become different from
manipulators and narcissists if we act the same way?
Killian’s upper lip lifts in a snarl before a cruel smirk takes over.
“So what if I am a shell? What’s so grandiose about a core
anyway? Should I get one like yours? Easily bruised, broken, and
discarded? Easily…forgotten?”
All this time, Gareth has kept his hands by his sides, but now,
he clutches Killian’s T-shirt with enough strength to make his
biceps bulge. “You’re the one who’s easily forgotten. After all,
your girlfriend prefers me.”
“That’s not true,” I say in a clear, surprisingly leveled voice.
“I’m neither his girlfriend nor do I prefer either of you.”
In hindsight, I should’ve never gotten between brothers, not
even if it’s about Devlin. There’s a lot of bad mojo about getting
involved with brothers.
“Are you sure, Glyn?” Gareth is speaking to me, but his entire
attention is on Killian. “Didn’t you tell me you wanted to see what
my lips tasted like?”
My cheeks heat, but before I can say anything, Killian punches
Gareth in the face so hard, blood splatters on the wallpaper.
I shriek, still unable to move, but I search either side of me for
the bodyguards from earlier. None of them are in sight, or maybe
they know by experience not to get involved in their quarrels.
“Touch her again and I’ll fucking kill you, Gareth. I’ll make it
look like an accident and have my hand on Mom’s shoulder while
she cries at your funeral. I’ll even become Dad’s golden boy and
make him forget you ever existed. A few years from now, no one
will visit your grave anymore and I’ll be the only child this time.
You’ll be erased so effortlessly that not a memory of you will be
left. So think carefully about that bleak ending next time you
consider touching what’s fucking mine.”
I want to think this is an empty threat like the ones Remi
makes all the time, but there’s no hint of joking in his tone.
There’s no hint of…second thoughts.
The fact that he probably meant every word he said forces me
to take an automatic step backward, then another.
I don’t look at what’s behind me, scared that a mere blink will
be enough to get me decapitated.
After a few steps, I turn around and run.
I have no clue where I’m going or how, but that doesn’t
matter as long as I’m out of here. I run and run, probably looking
like a lunatic, but I still can’t get away fast enough.
Or far enough.
I should probably make sure Gareth is okay, but it’s not like
he’ll actually kill him. Besides, he survived Killian all these years,
surely this one will slide, too.
Right?
My feet come to a halt soon after I round the corner. There’s
no way I’m going back in there, but maybe I can find Jeremy or
Nikolai and tell them to break the fight apart.
I’m not one step in when a merciless hand wraps around my
neck and pushes me back so forcibly, the breath is knocked out of
my lungs.
My spine hits a solid edge, a door, before it’s swung back and
I’m thrust inside a bedroom.
“Where do you think you’re going, my little rabbit?”
Dark blue eyes crash into mine with the lethality of a natural
disaster, a train wreck, and a war. Combined.
There’s no other word to describe Killian other than intense,
and I’m right in the middle of his madness. The eye of the storm.
I claw at his wrist with my nails, even though he’s not
squeezing. I just don’t want to be at his mercy—or the lack
thereof.
“You want to fight? I’ll give you a reason to fight.” His hold
tightens and he shoves his knee between my legs, slapping them
apart and thrusting his thigh against my core. “I could choke the
living fuck out of you right now, and there’s nothing you could do
about it. Is that what you want, hmm?”
I try to shake my head, but I don’t know if it moves. The lack
of oxygen turns me lightheaded. The good kind. The kind that
throbs in my core and against his jeans.
Shit.
Please don’t tell me this is what I think it is.
My senses are heightened to an extent I’ve never felt before.
My head thrums in an irregular rhythm causing my eyes to droop,
but I can smell him deep in my bones. The woodsy, amber scent
is no different than an intoxicating substance. Like alcohol.
Or drugs.
No, probably worse.
My stomach quivers as I inhale every painstaking drag, on and
on, my belly drops and fills and empties in a rhythm I can’t keep
up with.
But the worst part is that my hands that are clawing at any
part I can reach, but I don’t think it’s to push him off me
anymore. I just want the pads of my fingers on his skin, my blunt
nails leaving marks on him as he does on me.
“Or maybe you’d like that.” He presses his thumb against my
pulse point with the brutality of a savage animal. “Maybe being
choked turns you the fuck on like it makes me fucking hard.”
I should be appalled by the suggestion, should try to scratch
his eyes out, but something entirely different slips from my
mouth.
A moan.
I want to find excuses, to say it’s a moan of pain, or
discomfort, but I can’t think straight, let alone attempt to trick my
brain.
Killian’s lips pull in a cruel smirk. He’s not happy about this, on
the contrary, the anger from earlier is slowly gathering in the
stormy blues of his eyes.
They’re a shade darker now.
Charcoal, black, and every cold hue that hasn’t seen the sun.
“I knew you were more than your looks suggested. You had
this clean, innocent, and utterly pretty aura, but really, you’re
nothing more than a dirty little whore, aren’t you? All this fighting
and running and fucking shenanigans were just a way to provoke
me so I’d throw you down and fuck you on all fours like a fucking
animal. Or maybe so I’d shove you headfirst against the nearest
surface, like this wall, and fill you up with my cum.”
His free hand slides over my aching breasts and he cups one
violently. “Tell me, were you thinking of me when you wore this
red dress or was it for Gareth?”
Pleasure starts where he’s touching my breasts and ends in my
core, and all I can do is focus on it.
“Answer the fucking question, Glyndon. Is he the one you
wanted to feel up these pretty little tits and make these perky
nipples all hard?” He pinches one and I gasp. “You always wanted
the nice guy; too bad you got the fucking villain.”
“It wasn’t him…” I choke out.
“Come again?” He loosens his grip so I can breathe properly.
“The dress is for…you,” I admit on a breath.
I think that will delight him, but his face remains on the edge.
“It was for me, huh?” His hand slides from my breast to my
hip, then he shoves the skirt of my dress to my waist, exposing
my thighs and underwear. “You even put on lace panties and
came prepared to be fucked.” He rubs his fingers against them
and I can’t pretend to close my eyes out of pure mortification.
“Are you sure it’s for me? Or are you saying that to please me?”
I shake my head.
“The thought of you dolling up to seduce my brother drives me
fucking insane. The thought of you imagining his fucking fingers
on my pussy while you were cleaning and dressing it makes me
see red.”
His fingers tighten on my throat and it’s like I’m gasping for air
through a straw again.
And the most embarrassing part is, my undies are utterly
soaked, and I think he feels it. I think he knows exactly the type
of effect he has on me.
“Did you think I’d let him touch what’s mine and live to talk
about it?” He tugs me close by the neck and tilts his head down
until his lips nearly touch mine and I can see my reflection in his
savage eyes.
Do I really look that aroused?
I yelp as he yanks down my underwear and thrusts three
fingers inside me at the same time.
A choked sob tears from my throat, and although it should be
due to pain or discomfort, it’s actually due to relief.
I’ve been in a constant mode of stimulation ever since he
strangled me and it’s only gotten worse with time.
“Feel that? That’s your cunt welcoming my fingers home.
That’s your cunt knowing who the fuck owns it, touches it, and
brings it pleasure. If someone dares to look at it, let alone
contemplate touching it, they’ll be an MIA statistic, am I clear?”
A whimper rips from me and it’s sick.
I’m sick.
He’s clearly threatening to hurt people, but I can’t seem to
take that into account as I drip all over his fingers, rocking my
hips unconsciously at first, then intentionally.
“This is my pussy.” Thrust. “My property.” Thrust. “Fucking
mine.”
A strangled gasp spills from my throat as my core pulses for
the orgasm.
But just when I’m about to scream, he pulls out his fingers.
My eyes widen, staring at him, then at the place that he
definitely didn’t satisfy.
“You don’t get to come after that little show of yours. This isn’t
a reward.”
A frustrated sound echoes in the air and I realize it’s mine
when he picks me up and throws me on the bed.
I can breathe for the first time, but I don’t focus on the
animal-like sounds escaping me or the ache between my legs.
There’s something much worse.
Killian.
He tugs his shirt over his head, revealing the hard planes of
his abs and stomach. Under the current tension, his physique
appears massive, a weapon that can inflict both pleasure and
pain.
Even the birds with broken feathers flying up his side appear
more ominous. Destructive.
Killian proceeds to remove his trousers and boxers with infinite
ease. He actually takes his time with the task, as if knowing
exactly how nervous his methodical calm makes me.
I slide back against the mattress. “W-what do you think you’re
doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” He steps toward me with
the grace of a black panther. “Finishing what I started.”
“Killian…”
“Yes, Glyndon?”
“Stop… I mean, let’s talk about this.”
“I’m done talking.”
“I’ll scream.”
“By all means, do. No one will hear you, and if they do, we can
fuck on their blood if you’re not squeamish.”
I think I’m going to throw up. I wish this was him trying to
scare me and that deep down, these were empty words, but this
is Killian, after all.
He’s on me now, his hand fisting my dress. I try to stop him as
he pulls the piece of clothing over my head and throws it away. I
try to fight as he unclasps my bra and slings it to the floor. And in
my attempts, I don’t think about what I’m doing—my hands flying
everywhere until I’m naked in his arms.
It’s panic, I think.
If I don’t get a hold of myself, I’m going to lose before I even
start.
Killian is on top of me, and his fingers flick my nipples so that
both of them harden to sensitive peaks. “I’m never going to get
enough of your gorgeous fucking tits.”
I place a shaky hand on his chest, on the physical perfection
that is his abdomen and cut muscles and try to smooth my voice
as much as possible. “You said you’d give me time.”
He doesn’t remove my hand, but he doesn’t push me down
and force my legs open either. His fingers continue flicking my
nipple back and forth, back and forth in an agonizing rhythm.
“That was before you decided it was a good idea to seduce my
brother.”
“I didn’t seduce him.”
“His lips were on yours.”
“Like Cherry’s lips and tongue were on yours.”
“Your jealousy turns me the fuck on, but I didn’t kiss Cherry.
She kissed me.”
“And I didn’t kiss Gareth.”
“Hmm.” He pinches my nipple hard and I whimper. “Is that
so?”
“Yes, I promise. I didn’t want to kiss him.”
“Or see what his lips taste like?”
“Or that.” I soften my voice.
“Good call. They’re probably disgusting.” He’s caressing my
nipples now, more pleasure than pain, but it’s the mild type of
pleasure, the pleasure that’s not enough to stimulate my core, but
I can put up with it if I can tame the tiger.
“Killian, please.” I test the waters and push him. He
surprisingly lets me, so I do it again until he’s almost on his back.
But before he lies down, he becomes as hard as granite. “Nice
try, baby. You almost got me there. I’m so fucking proud of how
your cunning nature shows through.”
My breath hitches as he opens my legs wide and settles
between them. “But we’ve got a score to settle. See, all types of
parasites keep floating around you because I didn’t stake my
claim yet, and that needs to change.”
I slowly close my eyes, admitting defeat. And the moment I
do, a feeling I never thought I’d be experiencing under the
circumstances washes over me.
Relief.
Complete, utter, and unmatched relief.
“Are you going to hurt me?” I murmur.
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes.” My word is barely a murmur, but it feels so right, so
liberating.
“I’ll try not to hurt you…much.”
Don’t try, I want to say but keep it to myself.
“Eyes on me when I fuck you, baby.”
I don’t want to.
That will just remind me of what I am. Of what type of deviant
I’ve become.
Killian is the worst monster I know, but he’s the only person
I’ve wanted with twisted depravity.
The only person who provokes the hidden part of me from the
shadows and makes me stare at them under the light.
It’s uncomfortable at first, but as time goes on, it’s…so
peaceful.
“I said”—his fingers squeeze my throat as he lifts my leg high
and thrusts inside me in one ruthless go—“look at me.”
My eyes shoot open, clashing with his as searing pain tears me
from the inside.
“Fuck,” he grunts. “I knew you’d be so tight and fucking
perfect for me, baby.”
I shriek from the pain and something else I can’t pinpoint. Oh
God, I’m the wettest I’ve ever been in my life, but it still hurts.
It hurts so much that tears slide down my cheeks.
It hurts so much that pleasure pools between my legs.
The addition of his fingers on my neck adds a primitive type of
stimulation that robs my breaths and thoughts.
It’s like an out-of-body experience where I’m floating in a
parallel universe that only my mind can reach.
“Your blood is making a mess of the sheets,” Killian groans.
“Do you see the welcoming ceremony your cunt is holding for
me?”
I shake my head, but he lifts me up by his grip on my neck
and makes me see the blotches of blood on the white covers. He
makes me see the in and out of his cock that’s covered with both
blood and arousal as he rams into me.
His intensity increases with each passing second and so does
the firm hold he has on my neck.
“Mmm. I knew red was my favorite color.”
He pushes me on my back again and pins me in place so
effortlessly, it makes me quiver.
A bizarre emotion floats through me the more he’s in control.
The more he dominates me, making me utterly helpless.
Without words, he’s telling me that I have no say in this, that
if he wants to ruin me, he will. That if he wants to break me, he
will.
Instead of hurting me, he’s choosing to fuck me.
Not so nicely, definitely without a gentle bone in his body, but
I can tell he was holding back when he first entered me earlier.
I can also tell that it didn’t come naturally to him and he
probably struggled with restraining his beast.
I can tell because the rocking of his hips has increased in
intensity. My body slides across the mattress and if it weren’t for
his palm angling my thigh and his grip on my throat, I’d be
tumbling off the bed.
He touches with such nonnegotiable dominance that the only
thing I can do is surrender and completely let go.
With each thrust, he goes deeper, stronger. The sound of my
arousal and the in and out movements make me delirious and
downright mad.
No one told me there would be an infinite amount of emotions
flowing through me all at once.
No one told me it’d be this…otherworldly.
Pleasure pools between my thighs and the sharp ache
subsides. There’s still some pain, probably from how big he is, but
it’s muted by the pulsing erotic friction that happens right after.
Then he hits a secret spot, once, twice. My mouth opens in a
wordless cry before all sorts of noises escape me.
“Look at how much of a mess you are, little rabbit. You sure
you didn’t want me to fuck you not too long ago? Because you
were made for my cock.” He settles on his knees and throws my
foot on his shoulder. “Keep it there, baby, and you may want to
hold on to the sheets.”
I don’t understand what he’s doing until he slides almost all
the way out, then pounds in again. The different angle gives him
a new depth that makes my lips fall open.
The beat of my heart jumps on and on until I’m scared it’ll be
on the floor.
I can’t constrain the noises that slip out of my mouth, and
even as I grip the sheets, it’s impossible to hold on in the midst of
his animalistic rhythm that gets more intense with each second.
“Killian…slow down…”
His eyes rage with a color I’ve never seen before—a lighter
blue, a living blue. A blue so bright, it’s almost impossible to
imagine it on someone like him.
He thrusts in again, deeper. “I don’t think I can keep my
promise about not hurting you much, baby.”
I rock my hips and release the sheets to place a shaky palm
on his chest as I lift myself up. I think he’ll slap my hand away
since he didn’t really like me touching him yesterday.
But he lets me get up a little, loosening his hold on my neck,
though he doesn’t release me. We change positions so that I’m
cocooned in his arms as I’m sitting up more.
“It’s okay…” I whisper, trying to match his in and out.
“If you think doing that will make me finish faster and get me
off your case…” he trails off, his rhythm faltering for a bit when I
slide my palm from his chest to his neck and then to his cheek.
“What the fuck are you doing now?”
“Connection, ever heard of it?”
“Don’t be stupid. If you fall for me, you’ll only get hurt.”
“The fact that you worry about me getting hurt is enough.”
“Not worry.” Thrust. “Think.”
“At least you’re thinking about me.” My voice breaks.
“Don’t romanticize me or you’ll be eaten alive.”
“Aren’t you eating me already?”
“This is not eating. This is an appetizer.”
I believe every word he says, and I know what’s coming is
probably worse, but I still close the distance between us and
brush my lips against his. They’re surprisingly soft, though
thinned and a bit mean, like him.
“How about this then?” I whisper against his mouth.
“Still not eating.” He shoves me down on his lap and pounds
into me from below. “Open your mouth.”
When I do, he angles my jaw up with his thumb. “Tongue out.”
I slowly stick it out, and he sucks it into his mouth, biting on it
and kissing me open-mouthed, his lips clashing with mine at the
same rhythm as his cock is plowing inside me.
There’s no way I’ll last long.
I don’t.
My whole body is caught in a trance, being completely and
utterly ravaged by a monster.
Completely and utterly satiated.
I come with a cry that he swallows with his lips, allowing me
only fragments of air.
But he goes on and on until I think he’ll never come.
He stops every few minutes to change positions. First, I’m on
my side, then I’m lying facedown and he’s on top of me. Next, I’m
on all fours, and he’s behind me. The entire time, he bites me—on
my breasts, my shoulders, my hips, my thighs—anywhere his
mouth can reach.
Finally, he puts me on his lap again and his back straightens.
His hand on my throat tightens as his lips trap and suck mine,
turning them all bruised.
“Fuck,” he grunts as his hips jerk. “Fucking fuck, I could stay in
your cunt forever.”
Then I feel him twitching and releasing deep inside me. He
pulls out, then gathers his cum with his fingers and thrusts them
back in me. Over and over until I think I’m going to come again.
“We can’t have you wasting any drops.”
I’m half-dazed, not able to make out my surroundings, but I
can feel him placing me on the mattress.
I can also feel his warmth gone before he’s back again and
something tender is placed between my legs.
A whole-body shudder goes through me when he kisses my
folds and whispers against them, “You saved this cunt for me
because I’m the only one who gets to own it, baby.”