Rapture by L.V. Lane

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Winter

I DO NOT manage many steps before my legs give out. The shock of Jacob feeding from my throat, the unexpected pain followed by pleasure, the heady scent of his pheromones, unmuted now the binding is gone, all conspire to sap my energy and will.

He catches me, gathering me into his arms, carrying me along empty corridors, down steps, and through yet more passages.

All the while, I cling like a child, nose buried against his chest, sucking his rich, spicy scent until it makes me a little dizzy.

I am drunk on his scent, I realize distantly, fingers plucking at the collar of his leather tunic like that might see it magically removed.

On one level, I am terrified.

On another, I want his touch any way I can get it.

I’m jostled as he stops at a fine wooden door. It creaks as he opens it and closes with a thud.

The room is a windowless, grandly furnished chamber. Plump carver chairs and a long day lounger, both covered in a deep red and silver brocade, are positioned around a low table bearing several books. A dining table on the far side bears several dome topped platters, decanted wine, and other items hidden under cloths. Gas lanterns offer subtle illumination, being practical and long-lasting in these deep, inner chambers.

He sweeps on into a bedchamber with yet more rich red and silver brocade swags adorning a huge four-poster bed. This is not the room he was in before. The entire suite is of a quality that bespeaks his new status as second only to the king.

Hair flies before my eyes as I am dropped onto the bed.

I push my hair away, chest heaving as the realization of where I am and what is about to happen crashes through my pheromone addled mind.

He stands at the end of the bed, shoulders broad and straight. There is already a healthier glow to his cheeks from the small amount of my blood he has taken.

He is about to take much more.

My heart rate pounds, fluttering through the veins at my throat as my body rises in anticipation of him taking from me again.

Eyes hooded, he watches me with predatory intent as his fingers clasp the buckle of his tunic and tug it open.

I blink up at him, dizzy, feeling like the room is spinning. My throat stings a little still, but lower in my belly, butterflies take to flight, and my pussy performs a slow clench, followed by the trickle of slick.

I tell myself that this is Jacob, the warrior who was gentle with me, who nestled me upon his lap and purred for me when I was frightened.

But he is no longer my Jacob. I broke him, and then the Chosen broke him twice as hard.

My eyes are glued to the opening in his tunic, the firm flesh underneath revealed in slow increments. He pauses as it fully opens, shucking it over broad shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. As he draws and expels a deep breath, the firm ridges of his abdominals clench and relax in the most arresting way. He shuffles, kicking off boots while opening his belt buckle with deliberate slowness.

My breath stutters as I note the rigid outline of his thick cock.

I have felt that silken length before moving inside me, delivering rapture I had forgotten existed. I would be lying to myself if I pretended slick was not already gathering between my intimate folds.

The belt drops, the sound as it hits the floor jarring. His pants drop soon after. I swallow, eyes locked on his jutting cock as he fists it in his big hand. He pumps slowly, the tip turning purple and glistening with his pre-cum, making my mouth water for the taste. The knot is already half formed, the bumpy ridges seeming to grow as he works the pre-cum down the shaft before squeezing the lumpy swelling at the base.

I swallow past the lump in my throat.

It’s not until he moves forward, knee connecting with the bed, that my eyes lift to meet his.

The lack of humanity terrifies me. Jacob is not a man I know anymore, he is an Alpha about to claim me for his personal retribution.

Panic grips me, and I try to scramble backward. He snags my ankle, dragging me to the center of the bed. My small struggles do not trouble him. Muscular thighs are forced between mine before he fists the material of my dress over my heaving breasts. The ripping sound as he cleaves it apart is unbearably loud. The tiny pearl buttons pop and the neckline gaps.

Taking a firmer hold, he rips it further, exposing my breasts to his hungry gaze.

He does not linger there for long. Thrusting my skirts up, he takes his thick cock in hand to probe my slick folds.

Snagging the entrance to my pussy, his eyes take on a wicked gleam as he stares at the throbbing pulse in my throat.

I brace, tense, mind impossibly blank as his head lowers.

He bites as his cock batters into me, filling me and knotting me in one move, even as he noisily gulps down my blood.

I squeal, chin lifting, straining to find air that is not saturated with him.

Deep inside, his seed fills me, cock pulsing and bathing my insides with hot jets.

The pain is more terrible than I could imagine, yet it does not linger there for long. My cries turn guttural as my aching pussy, stretched obscenely around his throbbing cock and knot without the briefest preparation, tips straight into fierce contractions that ride the line between pleasure and pain. My throat aches too, yet the sensation of blood leaving my body morphs into a sinful sweet pleasure.

He rocks his groin against me, pressing his hardness into my sensitive clit, sending the nerves rushing to glorious life.

I rise in euphoria.

Yet I also sink into weakness.

He keeps drinking.

More and more.

Panic rises once again. He is going to drain me, even as he pumps cum deep into my pussy.

My hands rise weakly, the strength even to grip his hair that I might pull him off beyond me.

My pussy spasms again.

I feel like I am drowning, eyelids fluttering as I try to hold onto consciousness.

I cannot win this fight. I do not have any hope.

As my pussy convulses around him yet again, triggering another flood of his hot cum, I sink into blackness.

When consciousness returns, I am alone in the decedent bed with red and silver brocade, inside it with the cover drawn over me and the nearby lantern set to low.

I am not dead. Jacob did not drain me to death, even wounded and embittered by cruelty.

This should calm me, yet my fears have a tight hold. A mind lost to prior terror is not easily reasoned with.

As I blink into the gloom, Jacob enters through the door with a jug and cup in his hands. Still naked, his cock is hard and the knot half formed.

My pussy squeezes, and I whimper, drawing his attention.

There is the briefest pause before he sits on the bed beside me. Placing the cup and jug on the nightstand, he turns up the lamp, fills the cup, and lifts it to my lips.

He purrs, and it cuts through the tension gripping my body. There is unexpected tenderness as he gently holds my head up so I can sip some water.

“Take as much as you can,” he says.

Thirsty, I drain the cup before collapsing back to the bed, panting.

He stands, running a hand through his messy hair. His cock bobs, a trail of pre-cum weeping from the tip. He cannot mean to take me again so soon, can he?

The answer is in his eyes as he turns to me. Dark and ravenous, they glisten with an unearthly power.

The cover is ripped off. My ruined dress thrust up. This time, he pauses to close his lips around my stiff nipple and half of my breast, sucking hard as he crowds over me, caging me beneath his muscular bulk.

I groan, arching up. The pleasure is intense, even as my fears clamor for attention.

Head lifting, his eyes hold mine.

“They say our bodies will align,” he says. “That my need for your blood and your ability to give it to me will stabilize over time. We are a long way from there as yet. The taste I had thus far has only driven my hunger for more. Instinct tells me it will get worse before it gets better.”

I want to weep at his words, but my eyes remain dry and my nerves brittle.

My throat is sore, my pussy more so. “Please,” I say. “I’m sore.”

“You will adapt,” he says implacably.

Like last time, there is no preamble. Gathering my hands in a giant fist, he pins them above my head, lines up his cock, and pushes into my slick channel with ruthless determination. I whimper and strain, but it doesn’t help. Hand bracing under my ass, he thrusts deeper still, forcing tender muscles to give and sensitive nerves to flare to life. He manages a few thrusts before the knot locks.

Lips seek my throat.

With my hands now free, I claw at his back weakly, my pussy spasming in bliss.

He bites, drinking noisily, taking me under faster this time.