Chapter 39 39- Kael
RANDOM FACT: Kael has a favorite fruit at the moment. Riven.
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Riven Draken is not a wolf. He is something else. Like me.
The Hunger is elated. It burns through the veins in me. Its desire for him has worsened. It tells me to rip through him. Cause more pain. More despair. He tastes different. He feels different.
My wolf wants more. His pheromones are different now. Wilder. More feral. He wants to fill him with my seed, and make sure he can never leave.
Ours, they both agree. Ours.
But another memory flashes through my head. Another one of the same woman.
Eryndra.
She feeds me with something. Fruit. I do not know what it is but I taste it this time. It is… good. And I take more. And more. And she smiles like I am the most beautiful thing she has seen, like I am not the thing that I am and says softly, ‘See, Aranel, you can feed on other things,’
And I am back to Riven.
A keeper. A being created to imprison me, to keep me asleep and away from the world lest I destroy it.
But this is my Mate. And his grandfather tried to imprison him as he once did and hide him from me. I saved him. I brought him.
Mine. Keep. Mine.
His pheromones smell that way. Like that memory. Fruits that are sweet. Overripe. Decaying around the edges.
Kill him. Bathe in his blood. Rid the world of his kind. He will be last. He will stop boring into your mind. Into your thoughts. End it.
Go and find Erydna.
I hit him across the face. The drowsy look vanishes and he’s feisty again. He kicks, scratches. His claws are sharp, digging into my skin in a way that should not excite me.
But it does.
Good, the Hunger purrs. Fight. Bleed. Taste.
His red eyes blaze up at me— those eyes that were not red before today, before me.
He is not a wolf. He was never a wolf.
He is mine.
“You don't get to hit me!” He snarls, spitting blood from his split lip. My blood. His blood. Mixed together on his chin. “I don’t fucking like that shit—”
I hit him again.
His cock twitches, springing back to life like it wants to be hit as well. Tears fill his eyes. Shame. Resentment. Hate. All of it swells through me, and the warmth fills me too.
I can feel. I want more.
He knows this. He notices it. The rage that floods his face next is almost beautiful enough to eat.
Almost.
I am still hard. Dripping of him. Wanting him.
So I do what anyone else would do.
I place mine next to his.
His member is so pitifully small in comparison to mine. He notices it. I don’t bother to look at it as I wrap my hand around his and press into my cock.
The warmth travels down to my leg and shoots blood through my head. A gasp escapes my lips. A real breath leaves my lips.
His mouth starts to move. “What do you think—?”
“Your tail is still wrapped around my thigh.”
He looks down.
It is.
The red, slender thing is coiled so tight around my leg that I can feel the ridges of it pressing into my skin. Holding on. Refusing to let go.
My shadows descend on him again. Tasting his sweat. His blood. His spit. One of it sneaks between his ass, and the second I begin grinding into his, it goes in.
I feel his cock pulse— and the sensation hits me instantly.
He is warm. Too warm. And tight. And wet.
His cock leaks precum onto my hand, hot and wet, and the shadows between his ass push deeper.
He gasps.
Not a moan this time. Not a snarl. A gasp— like I have punched the air out of his lungs and he does not know how to get it back.
“There,” I murmur, stroking us both slowly. I use his slick to stroke us as I keep gliding. I can feel him throbbing. His veins. His blood rushing to the top and making it red and burning. “You can take it. You have taken worse from me.”
“I want— I want you instead.” His red eyes are glowing brighter. It is almost as if he is changing, morphing. His fangs show and he looks delicious. His breath is quickened, he’s trying to match with my pace. “Don’t you want your cum inside me? Breeding—?”
The shadow inside him curls.
Another strange sound leaves his lips and his body arches. My shadows hound his body, lifting him up so the shadow can sink deeper, pressing into his sensitive spot.
He is so tight. So hot. I can feel every ridge of him, every flutter of muscle as his body tries to decide whether to push me out or pull me deeper.
His tail tightens on my thigh.
Pull.
Good.
Not want. Stop. Not want, his thoughts are battered as they swim through my thoughts.
“Stop thinking,” I say, and my voice comes out lower than I intended. Rougher. The Hunger is climbing up my throat, but so is something else. Something that wants to hear him. “Feel. Good, is it not?”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
I am not certain if it is him speaking or me. It does feel good. I can feel blood rushing through me, trying to match his. I can feel the distinct rush of pleasure in me. I can feel my cock ache from not being inside him. It wants to feel his warmth and go so deep inside him that—
My shadows turn him around. He’s unprepared for it. Too unprepared but I do not care.
His face is now right around my pelvis while he lays on his back. My shadows raise him so he is close to my cock. And then I say in his head before my lips can move, ‘Open’.
He obeys without hesitation.
I shove it inside him.
In this angle, I can see everything.