him.
I feel it call to me, the seductive edge, and it only makes me angrier. This man did that to my mate, forced him, and now I will force him to feel every ounce of pain he can before he dies. Slashing my claw-tipped hands down his chest, I watch the blood well as he screams, his eyes slamming shut as he jerks beneath me. Licking my lips, I watch the crimson liquid slither down his side and drop to the sheets below him. They start to stitch together so I drag my nails back down the same wounds, digging them deeper, almost slicing him open.
He howls in pain, bucking and kicking, and between his screams, he swears at me in French. I let him calm until he’s still on the bed, his chest heaving as he pants, his eyes narrowed in pain and anger as I look at my handiwork. Tracing one, black-tipped nail down his torso, I stop above his cock. “What do you say, Derrin? They used to cut these off for less, shall we?”
He shakes his head, his eyes wild as blood pumps steadily from his cuts. “Baby, do me a favour,” I address Griffin. “Heat me a knife, we wouldn’t want him to die before we have had our fun.”
Griffin slips away as I keep my hand there, digging into the soft skin of his stomach and making him whimper. “Not so strong now, are you, little incubus?”
“Fuck you!” he screams.
“Real original, no thanks,” I purr, just as Griffin comes back, holding a large, glowing knife in his hand. Turning back to Derrin, I know my smile isn’t nice as I grab his cock and rip it from his body. He screams and then slumps, passing out as blood squirts across Griffin and me. I take the knife from my fallen and press it to his skin, the sizzle loud as it cauterises the flow. It wakes Derrin back up and he snivels, tears trailing down his face as I regard the bloodied cock still in my other hand.
“I have to say, it’s small. I thought as an incubus it would be bigger.” I laugh, but Griffin snarls and grabs my wrist, his eyes wild.
“You do not get to look at him, Vasculo,” he growls possessively.
Grinning, I toss the cock into the fire and turn back to Derrin to see him sobbing big, ugly cries with snot dripping from his nose onto his quivering lips. “Which hand did you touch him with?” I ask.
He shakes his head, whimpering, and I roar, “Which hand?”
He still doesn’t answer. “Fine, I’ll take both.”
Griffin grabs his right arm and presses it to the bed as I switch my grip on the knife. Humming to myself, I begin to cut through his wrist. He screams, the sound echoing around the room as I continue to cut through skin and then muscle, blood squirting at us in an arc before pumping steadily. I feel it dripping down my face and onto my lips, so I lick them clean, stopping for a second as I look at Derrin. “You taste like terror,” I inform him, then go back to cutting until his hand only hangs from an tendril of sinew and bone that I can’t get through. Sighing, I lean back, sad I couldn’t get it off.
“Let me, Vasculo.” Griffin smirks at me, and with quick moves rips away the hand and throws it behind us.
“That was hot,” I murmur, licking my lips again. He follows the movement with his eyes, the man beneath us fading away for a moment as I’m locked under Griffin’s possessives and wild gaze. Only the scream of pain from Derrin interrupts us.
Sighing, I turn to look down at him. “Do you mind? You are being very rude.”
“Fuck you! He wanted it! He fucking loved it, he was so hard—” I slash my hands across his neck to stop the words, Griffin doesn’t need to hear those vile lies.
His eyes widen, tears dripping from his lashes, his mouth dropping open in a gasp. I watch as a bubble of blood forms on his lips as his blood slowly pumps from the wounds. He lifts his good hand to try and stem the flow of blood, so I stab the knife through it, pinning it to his chest as he chokes and struggles. His eyes remain locked on me in terror, true terror, the type you get before you die. I know because I’ve felt the same way.
As