he chokes on his own blood, Griffin tangles his hand in my hair and yanks my head around, his lips coming down on mine. Hard. Groaning into his mouth, I arch into his touch, tasting his need and anger on his lips. He pulls away, eyes dark as the outline of his body shakes, almost misting.
“You are magnificent,” he growls. “I feel it, that madness flowing between us, your need, my need. Our need.” He moans, his eyes closing for a second as I watch blood drip down his cheek, the ruby red bright against his pale skin.
My chest heaves, my nipples tightening at the utter dominance as he holds me here, taking his time and even sitting on a dying man. He’s right. I want him. My pussy is slick, feeling empty as I imagine him throwing me to the bed and fucking me. He must see it in his mind, because his eyes open and catch on me, not blinking. In those depths, I see my life and death. If anyone was ever going to kill me, it would be Griffin, and I know I would deserve it.
“Yes, no one else gets to. Your life is mine, always mine to take, Vasculo.” He tightens his hand, tugging my hair and making me cry out, but not in pain. He leans close, brushing his lips against mine. “And you would love it, you would come around my cock even as I drained every last drop of blood from your body, as I killed you, my blade in your heart. You would ask for more.”
“Griff—” I gasp and he growls, biting down on my lip and drawing blood. “Yes, more,” I demand, pulling my lip free and tearing the plump flesh until more blood flows.
He groans at the sight and drags me closer, kissing me with desperate, open-mouthed kisses, the taste of blood and need filling our mouths, and when I pull back, I see my blood coating his chin and lips.
Derrin stops sputtering and I look down to see his eyes are vacant, his mouth open, his lips coated in blood. His neck has started to stitch back together, but his body clearly gave out. I can’t feel him or his power anymore.
He’s dead.
“Huh, he died quickly, shame.” I turn to Griffin. “Guess you will have to entertain me,” I purr, and then dive for him. He rolls us backwards and throws me. I spin and land on all fours on the rug, watching him with black eyes as I grin. His wings are out, his chest heaving, his leather pants slung low and bulging at the front.
He wants this.
He needs this.
A fight to prove he is in control. To prove to himself the strength of his power. I’ll do it gladly, I’ll be his whipping boy for all time, whatever he needs. Even if it’s my death, that’s the dance of me and my fallen. Always.
I love it.
He comes straight for me and I meet him mid-air. He throws me into the ceiling and I fall downwards, grunting as he catches me mid-flight and flies us up, slamming me back into the ceiling next to the chandelier, which shakes from the impact, the twinkling of diamonds filling the air as cracks fracture around it. Laughing, I grip Griffin’s hand which is clutching my throat as he snarls at me.
Darting my head forward, I smash mine into his, and he growls as he falls backwards, blood blooming from a cut on his head as I plummet. I crash into the floor, my stomach flipping, and he’s on me in a second.
He grabs my hair and slams my head into the floor. It rings for a moment as I groan, pain flashing through me, meeting the lust in my stomach and igniting. “Stop fighting me,” he demands.
“Make me,” I taunt, as I crawl forward and grab a decorative vase next to the wall. Turning, I smash it into his skull and roll away laughing as he rears back, clutching his head.
“Dawn,” he warns, his voice deadly. I hear my death in it, his anger...and his need. His need for this, to fight, to get it all out, even if he doesn’t know it.
“Scared, fallen?” I gibe.
He flies at me, cutting through the air with a yell. I roll away from where he lands, but his hand catches my hair and drags me back to him. My spine smashes against his chest as his hand slides around my throat to try