Chapter 7 7
Chapter 7.
The air in the room changed.
It wasn't stuffy anymore. It turned...cold. The smell of Mark faded, replaced instantly by the scent of a storm, rain and cedar.
I opened my eyes.
The window was wide open, the curtains billowing inward like ghosts.
Two shadows stood at the foot of the bed.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I tried to sit up, to scream for Mark, but my body wouldn’t move. I was paralyzed, pinned by an invisible weight.
Lucien stepped out of the shadows. His silver eyes glowed in the dark. He looked furious.
Damian moved beside him, not looking furious but hungry.
They moved toward me, completely silent, ignoring Mark sleeping right next to me. It was like he didn’t exist to them.
“You reek of him,” Lucien growled. His voice vibrated through my bones, deep and terrifying.
He climbed onto the bed, hovering over me, his large hand clamping around my throat possessively.
“You let him touch you,” Damian whispered as he crawled up the bed between my legs. His eyes were black pools of jealousy. “You let him inside you.”
“No,” I whimpered, but the sound was weak.
“We felt it, Rhea,” Lucien murmured, leaning down until his nose brushed mine. “We felt every second of it. His hands. His mouth. His mediocrity.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “Go away.”
“We can’t,” Damian said. He gripped my thighs, spreading them wide. “And neither can you.”
He lowered his head, sniffing the skin of my inner thigh. He snarled. “He tried to mark you. He tried to cover our scent. Cover what's ours."
“We have to scrub it off,” Lucien stated coldly.
“Yes,” Damian agreed. “We have to remind her who she belongs to.”
Damian’s hands moved up, sliding under the oversized t-shirt I wore. His palms were scorching hot. He found my breasts, squeezing hard, erasing the memory of Mark’s touch with his own rougher, wilder grip.
I gasped, arching my back involuntarily.
Lucien lowered his mouth to my ear. “Does he make you burn, Rhea? Does he make you beg like us?”
“Please,” I moaned. I didn’t know what I was pleading for.
Damian moved lower. His hands hooked into the waistband of my panties. He ripped them down in one sharp motion.
“Look at you,” Damian growled, seeing how wet I was. “Your body knows the truth. You’re dripping for us.”
He didn't wait. He lowered his head and pressed his open mouth against me.
"Ahh..." The sensation was electric. I screamed silently, my hips bucking off the mattress. His tongue was wicked, demanding, tasting me with a hunger that felt wicked.
Lucien watched my face, his eyes devouring my pleasure. He used his free hand to unbutton his pants.
“You are ours,” Lucien commanded. “Say it.”
“Yours,” I gasped, lost in the heat.
Damian pulled back, leaving me aching and empty. He moved up, positioning himself over me, ready to take what Mark had thought was his.
“Open,” Damian commanded, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance.
I opened for him. I wanted it. I wanted them to fill me, to break me, to....
I woke up with a gasp.
I sat bolt upright, my chest heaving, sweat clinging to my skin.
The room was dark. The window was closed.
Mark was still asleep beside me, snoring softly.
I looked around frantically. The room was empty.
I brought a trembling hand to my face. My skin was burning hot. I looked down. My shirt was twisted, damp with sweat.
I reached between my legs.
I was soaked.
I squeezed my eyes shut, shame washing over me. It was just a dream. A twisted, guilt-ridden nightmare because of what happened yesterday.
But just then, I caught a faint scent in the air.
It was... like them.
Later in the day;
The university campus was buzzing.
It was the day of the immersion trip announcement. The main courtyard was filled with students, banners, and chatter.
Mark walked beside me, his hand gripping mine tight. He was playing the perfect fiancé today, attentive, protective. But his eyes were constantly scanning the crowd and I had a good idea who he was searching for.
“Are you cold?” he asked, noticing me shiver.
“I’m fine,” I said, though my skin felt too sensitive. My clothes felt abrasive against my skin, rubbing against the sensitive places Damian had touched in the dream.
“I’m going to get us some water,” he said, spotting a refreshments table across the quad. “Stay right here. Don’t move.”
“I won’t.”
He squeezed my hand one last time, then walked away.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I leaned against the stone wall of the library, closing my eyes for a second to steady my racing heart.
“Rough night, little mate?” the voice was right next to my ear.
I jumped, spinning around.
They were there. Lucien leaned against the stone, arms crossed, looking immaculate in a dark suit. Damian stood closer, his hands in his pockets, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark.
“You,” I breathed, clutching my bag. “What are you doing here?”
“We work here, Rhea,” Lucien said calmly. But his eyes were traveling over my face, searching for something. “You look exhausted. Did you sleep?”
“Fine. I slept fine.”
Damian let out a rough chuckle. He stepped closer, invading my space. His scent hit me, the exact scent from my bedroom.
“Liar,” Damian whispered. “You smell like guilt.”
“I have nothing to be guilty about.”
“Don’t you?” Damian tilted his head. His gaze dropped to my lips, then lower, to my neck. “You look flushed. Like you’ve been running. Or...”
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.
“Leave me alone,” I said, my voice shaking. “I’m with Mark.”
Lucien pushed off the wall. He moved with that predatory grace, stopping just inches from me.
“We know,” his voice was cold. “We felt him on you yesterday. His scent is all over you.”
My breath hitched. It was the same thing he had said in the dream. You reek of him.
“But...” Damian leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. The heat radiating off him was dizzying. “Underneath that... you taste different today.”
I froze.
Taste.
I looked at Damian sharply. His eyes were glinting with a dark, secret amusement as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, seductively.
“Did you enjoy it, Rhea? Wasn't it a thousand times better than Mark?"
My blood ran cold.
“How...” I stammered. “How do you...”
“Rhea?”
Mark’s voice called out from the crowd.
I flinched, turning my head toward the sound.
When I looked back behind, it was empty.
They were gone. Vanished into the shadows as if they had never been there.
Mark jogged up to me, holding two water bottles. He looked at my pale face, then at the empty corner I was staring at.
“Who were you talking to?” he asked, his voice sharp with suspicion.
“No one,” I whispered, touching my ear where Damian’s breath still lingered. “Just... no one.”
I took the water, my hands trembling.
I looked back at the dark stone pillar.
The scent of cedar was still there.
Was it a dream? Or had they really come for me in the night?
And God help me... why did part of me wish they would come back again? Let them finish what they started?