Her Soul for Revenge (Souls Trilogy)

“I should have known it was Jeremiah. I should have known, the sick fuck!”

I was raging, but I couldn’t stop. Pacing up and down the living room, fists clenched so tight it hurt. I wanted to punch something. The fact that Jeremiah had not only killed Marcus, but gloated about it to his friends, kept mementos of it, thought it was something to be proud of — God, it made me sick.

Zane was perched up on the back of the couch, legs spread, letting me yell it out. He looked too big to be up there, as if he should have toppled the couch backward. But I guess gravity didn’t work the same for demons.

“He’s a fool that likes to run his mouth,” he said. “And he controls others through fear and false bravado. It’s pathetic.”

I stopped pacing, forcing myself through a few deep breaths to make my heart stop pounding. “He’s a dead fool. Fuck.” I squatted down, rubbing my hands over my eyes. “Okay, I gotta focus. Following Victoria got me nothing. But it sounds like Jeremiah spilled all the beans. So now we know Everly is missing.”

“Sounds like she ran away. You said she never seemed comfortable with the Hadleighs anyway. Maybe she finally had enough.”

“She could be in Australia by now, for all we know.” I shook my head. “And no information on her mother. I don’t like it.”

I could make the call to go after the Hadleighs anyway, even without knowing where the witches were. But rushing into things wouldn’t help. I had to take it slow. I had to make sure I was considering this from every angle.

If I went to kill Kent, and he had even one of the witches with him, it could be the end of everything.

But the Hadleighs already had their next sacrifice nearly in their clutches. The last thing I needed was for the God to grow even more powerful. The Gollums were awake, and Zane had warned me they’d crawl out of the mine soon enough. Eldbeasts were swarming the forests, and I could hear them howling almost every night. What else would come crawling out of the dark if another sacrifice was made?

“I’ll try to track the witch,” Zane said. “Witches and their magic have a distinct scent. Everly’s will be easier to find since she’s younger, less experienced. But it’ll take time. I’ll have to explore the area, see if I can catch a hint of her scent anywhere nearby. If we find the daughter, we’ll likely find the mother.”

I nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on Victoria and Jeremiah. That girl, Raelynn…I’ll try to figure out what her deal is. Hopefully she’s cautious. The last thing we need is for some happy-go-lucky girl with no sense of danger to get close to them.”

Zane snickered. “Look, this girl has a thing for Leon. I guarantee you her sense of danger is skewed…or completely non-existent.”

“Well, if he’s so interested in her, tell him to make himself useful and keep her away from the Hadleighs.”

We had a plan, and that made me feel a little better. I stood, cracking my knuckles. “Once the witches are taken care of, it’s time to come down on the Hadleighs, hard. I swear I’m buying a bottle of champagne on the day I get to gut Jeremiah.”

“I like it when you get all murderous,” Zane said, watching me keenly, a familiar hunger in his eyes.

“Oh, it’ll be more than murder.” I walked over to him, and leaned over the couch so I could rest my arms on either side of the cushions beside his perch. He still had his shirt on, for once. It was a little annoying, actually. “It’ll be a massacre. It will be a work of fucking bloody art.”

There was something about those sharp teeth when he smiled that raised my body temperature and made my heart start thumping harder. “Yeah? Tell me more, little wolf.”

It still felt dangerous to be so close to him. He was a beast that could bite at the slightest provocation, but his bite didn’t scare me. To me, his danger was a toy. He could mold it to fit my fantasies or wield it to save my life.

This freak had pounded his fist straight through my protective walls and offered a way out, a crack in my otherwise formidable defenses against vulnerability. Did I trust him? I wasn’t sure. But I’d sooner put my life in his hands than anyone else’s.

“I’ll use that knife he’s so proud of to carve his intestines out,” I said, and Zane eagerly licked his tongue over his lips. “I used to think I’d kill Victoria last, but I’ve changed my mind. I want to kill Jeremiah last. I want to take my time with him.”

“As you should, love.” He ran his claws along my cheek, brushing my hair back behind my ear. His hand lingered there, cupped against my head. “I can hear him screaming already.”

“He’ll do more than scream,” I said. “I want him to beg. I want him to cry for mercy.”

When Zane moved, it was quick, like a predator striking. He kept his hand cupped around my head, and the other hand squeezed against the side of my neck as he got up from the couch, pushing me back several steps as he held me, towering over me. “Yeah? And will you give him mercy?”

I reached down, and squeezed the hardness in his jeans. “Never. I just want to hear him cry while I bleed him out.”

My words finally unleashed that feral energy. He captured my mouth, his kiss deep and hungry, his grip on me tightening as he backed me up until I was pressed to the large windows that looked out on the lake. I grasped at him, clawing his back and tugging up his shirt. I pulled it over his head and dragged my nails down his bare chest, before I wrapped my arms around his neck and he lifted me, my legs wrapping around his waist as he gripped my ass.

He kissed my throat, right where my pulse beat, and he groaned when I bit him in return. I couldn’t hurt him, not really, but he liked it when I tried. I bit hard and left my marks on his skin before he pinned my head back by the throat.

“Oh, my little wolf wants it rough, doesn’t she?” he growled, and I barely nodded before he slapped my cheek and made me gasp. The sting blossomed beautifully across my skin, tingling, igniting some desperate desire that craved more — more pain, more pleasure, more of his overwhelming desire.

No one had ever looked at my rage and refused to shrink away from it. I was used to being seen as intimidating, threatening, unpleasant: an angry bitch. But it kept me safe, it kept people from getting too close.

Except Zane. He’d never pulled away, no, he’d kept pushing even when I pushed back. What kind of madman looked at my murderous rage and wanted more? What kind of freak didn’t find the deep hatred I held to be repulsive?

My anger was my armor. My hatred kept me locked inside iron bars — protection against everything but bars nonetheless, a cage I wasn’t even sure I wanted to get out of.

Zane was disassembling that cage, piece by piece. He’d stood outside long enough, looking at the vicious human within, and instead of shaking his head and leaving me there, he wanted to come inside.

“Rougher than that,” I whispered, and Zane slammed me back again, his hand tightening around my neck.

“Say that again,” he said. “Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me up.” I smiled. “Just fucking wreck me.”

He threw me back, and the sensation of falling overwhelmed me for a split second before he caught me. He threw me again, this time toward the wall, the force of it taking my breath away. And again, he caught me, inches from slamming into the wall, chuckling as he gripped his hand over my face, claws pricking my cheeks, palm covering my mouth.

“So easy to toss around,” he said, his teeth clipping together inches from my face. When he threw me again, he let me hit his target; I fell back on the couch, the impact cushioned, but I was still breathless from the rush as he got on top of me and ripped my shirt. From the neckline to the hem, the fabric tore open in his claws. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and he kept me pinned with one hand while he circled a single sharp claw around my nipple.

“Let’s hear you scream,” he said, and his voice was so gentle, but his claws weren’t as they dug into my skin.

I cried out against his hand, half in pain, half in ecstasy at the dopamine rush. I shuddered as his claws dragged over me, leaving trails of red down my belly. I squirmed, struggling beneath him, and he growled and went tense like a dog about to have his bone taken away. A new sensation, like bands constricting around my limbs, crept up my body. They grew tighter and tighter, until I could barely move at all.

He smiled down at me, running his tongue over his bared teeth.

“A little human could never escape from a demon,” he said. “I may let you go, to run and fight and entertain me, but if I really want to keep you still, keep you helpless…” He let go of my face, straightening up. Despite him no longer holding me down, I was still utterly unable to move. “Then I can. I can do whatever I want.”

Fuck, why did that get me so hot? His power was sexy as hell. After all, part of our bargain was that he wouldn’t hurt me beyond what I wanted. I could fight to my heart’s content, I could play the game and let myself be the victim, but all the while it would hinge on my will.

With those invisible bands keeping me in place, he pulled down my sweatpants, tracing his claws along my thighs as he did. He hooked his finger in my panties and tore them, grinning up at me as he lowered his head and licked his lips.

“Soaking wet,” he murmured. “Sick little slut.”

He roughly shoved my legs apart and jerked me toward him. He kept his eyes on my face as he ran his tongue up my inner thigh and set his teeth against me. He bit softly at first, leaving stinging nips along my tender skin. But his bites grew harder, until he broke my skin and sucked at my flesh between his teeth. My thighs were going to be covered in bruises by the time he was done. All the while he kept his eyes on my face, looking at me like he was daring me to keep fighting him.

Of course I’d keep fighting, no matter how tight he’d restrain me. Or at least, that was what I told myself before his mouth closed over me. Once his tongue was on me, swirling over my clit, every other thought emptied out of my head.

He gripped my thighs as he ate me, forcing them to remain spread. He probed inside me with his tongue, the sensation of his piercings stroking me sending a violent shudder over my body. He groaned, and the vibrations of it made me gasp. He had me nearly to the edge when he suddenly raised his head and smacked my thigh, the sharp pain making me cry out.

“Can you orgasm from pain, sick little slut?” he murmured, keeping me spread in front of him as he traced the red outline of his hand on my skin. “Do you want to try?”

I nodded, my head light at the promise of pain, light in the best of ways. I flinched when he slapped my thigh again, right where it still stung, before rapidly smacking the other. My thighs clenched but couldn’t close, and I gripped the couch cushions tight as my groan turned into a vicious growl, following another slap.

“You’re dripping wet for it.” He laughed, and instead of slapping my thigh again, he slapped my clit.

Fuck, how could something hurt so bad but feel so good? My back arched up, straining against the invisible restraints, and he slapped me again, the sensation throbbing through my abdomen. Fuck, it was getting me closer to orgasm. It shouldn’t have felt so good, I shouldn’t have been getting even warmer and wetter down there. The pain was shocking and intense, but it stimulated those overly-sensitive, swollen nerves.

“Let’s see how hard you come with my cock in your ass and your clit getting spanked.”

In my ass — fuck — holy fuck.

He grabbed a bottle of lube from a drawer in the coffee table and stroked a drop of it over his fingers. He kissed me again, grinding his cock between my legs as his tongue moved demandingly over mine. He slipped a finger inside me, pressing past that first tight ring of muscle and probing my ass as I panted into his mouth. As he pumped his finger in and out, and then added another, he smacked my clit again. I moaned as I tightened around his fingers, just two digits already feeling so full. He moved them slowly in and out, leaned over me with a smile, and said sweetly, “Keep your legs open, slut.”

When he smacked me, my first instinct was to squeeze my legs shut. But I fought the urge, moaning loudly and gripping the cushions tight. His palm slapped down again, his fingers still stretching me, and I screamed, slamming my fist against the couch.

“Shall we continue?” He chuckled. “You sound like you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Yes, God, yes.” I groaned as he withdrew his fingers. He squeezed more lube onto his shaft, slick as he pressed that dangerously thick head up against my hole.

“What did I tell you,” he said darkly. “About calling God’s name? I should punish you for that.”

“Fuck…fuck, fuck, fuck,” I murmured, the word becoming a mantra as he pressed inside me. I could feel every ridge and swell on his monstrous cock as it squeezed deeper. My legs were shaking, and he was halfway into me when he raised his hand again.

“Ready, slut?”

God, that name made my insides shudder in the best of ways. I would have killed anyone else who dared call me that, but him? From his lips, it made me feel filthy, it made me feel desperate. I nodded, biting my lip as I braced for the pain, for the throbbing, agonizing pleasure. I screamed when it came, my muscles tightening around him, squeezing until he groaned and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment.

“Fucking hell.” His pupils swelled as he opened them again, the blackness spreading to encompass nearly all of that bright golden ring. “You feel so fucking good.”

He entered me fully, leaning over me as my legs shook and I gasped, breathless at the stretch of having all of him inside me. “There’s my girl,” he growled in my ear, with a sudden hard, cruel thrust into me. “You take the pain so fucking well.”

I was so full, but my pussy was aching for him. It was swollen, dripping with need as he said sweetly, “Spread your legs for me again, love. I’m going to make you come.”

My breath came in rapid, desperate gasps as I obeyed, holding my own legs open because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to keep them spread through sheer force of will. He slapped my thighs, leaving me shaking, before he spanked my pussy again — and again. The growing knot of pain was intertwined with swelling pleasure. They were inseparable, every sharp slap making me clench tighter and tighter until —

I shook from head to toe as I came, throbbing as he fucked my ass and gave me one last slap that was nearly unbearable, my clit pulsing with stimulation. The orgasm gripped me so tight I could barely breathe, and my pleasure made him move faster. My legs were pinned back, shaking violently as he used my ass until I felt his cock swell.

“Does the little slut want my cum in her ass?” he said, grinning as he gripped my face and shook it hard. “Say it, slut. Say what you want.”

I was too high on pain, still drowning in pleasure. It was easier just to growl at him, and snap at his hand like a feral thing, than to manage words. But he dodged my bite and came back harder, smiling wide as he hooked two fingers in my mouth.

“Go on and bite me,” he growled. “Fucking bite me like you mean it.”

God, his words got me hot. I bit down, hard, hard enough to have broken a mortal man’s fingers. But it only made Zane more vicious, it made him groan in pleasure as he fucked into me at a punishing pace.

“This ass is mine,” he growled, tugging my head forward. My bite had broken his skin, and his blood dripped over my lips. “All mine, don’t you ever fucking forget it.”

I released his fingers and spat his blood back in his face. He laughed — wildly, hungrily — and smeared the bloody spit over his face with his still-bleeding hand.

It was enough to push him over the edge.

His cock throbbed repeatedly, the subtle change in its thickness making my eyes roll back again. He pumped inside me, hot cum filling me. He eased me down, tucking back my hair as I closed my eyes and caught my breath. He caressed my thighs, touching softly where they stung, and leaving gentle kisses over my hot skin.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmured. “So beautiful.”

And I actually felt like I was.