337- The Taste of Revenge
POV Viktor Averwyn:
Shock crossed her face. She looked at me quickly, bringing her palms closer to her face, turning them over.
“How… how did you do that?”
“My saliva.”
“My God…”
Stunned, disbelieving, she blinked several times.
I moved down, wanting to finish it quickly. I went straight to her worst knee and gave it a broad lick, from bottom to top. She shuddered, slipping slightly, her body jerking.
The taste of her blood filled me with a voracious hunger. I licked again and again, the wound drying, her skin restoring smoothly. I let it heal the rest on its own and licked the other knee.
Seraphine moaned, her head falling back. My mistake was looking up.
Her breasts rose and fell, nipples almost piercing through the fabric. Her expression was one of pleasure. Her thighs parted slightly with the tremor. Then I saw it—the slight opening, her bare little pussy inside, releasing that delicious scent that intoxicated me completely.
I growled, placing my hands on the bed beside her hips. My heart pounded hard as I inhaled her, sliding my nose between her legs, blood surging everywhere. My erection swelled, aching and throbbing.
I desperately needed more. My fingers grabbed the sides of the shirt, lifting it, exposing her. The aphrodisiac scent was powerful. My eyes locked onto the reddish down that appeared, outlining her slightly full flesh, a small slit at the center.
I roared, the sound exploding in the room. She let out a small cry, even more when I dragged her down forcefully and buried my mouth there, hungry.
“Ahhhhh… Viktor!”
I spread her thighs wide and licked her like a fucking pervert, wild, insane. From bottom to top, delirious with her spicy, delicious taste, not stopping. Growling, sucking her soaked flesh.
Seraphine writhed, trembling, clutching my hair. Out of her mind with every lick and suck, every time I pushed my tongue into her. So delicate, so fucking good!
My wolf wanted more, my entire body rigid and ready. All I had to do was stand up and drive myself into her, deep and hard. End that torture.
“Please… oh…”
She begged, offering herself, opening up. She moved on the bed, against my mouth. I clicked my tongue, on the edge, my cock aching and dripping. I growled again and again. And just when I thought everything was lost, reason came, warning of the risk. What if she died?
The pain was brutal, tearing.
In one jump, I left the bed and walked away, running my fingers through my hair, breathing deeply.
I had to do what was right, damn it! Not lose everything—neither her nor my duties.
“Viktor…”
Her voice came out in a plea as she panted, releasing her scent of a horny woman into the air. I fought myself, my appetites, stopping near the window with my back to her.
“Go to sleep.”
“But…”
“That’s enough for today, Seraphine. Leave me alone.”
She fell silent, and I heard her movements as she covered herself. Anger and fear mixed with excitement.
It was going to be a hell of a night—literally.
(...)
POV Seraphine Valerian:
I felt humiliated and furious.
I had been pacing the room since I woke up that morning, finding the bed empty beside me and his scent soaked into the sheets. I immediately remembered what had happened, ashamed of myself.
How could I have gone crazy like that, almost begging Viktor to devour me? That cursed beast ruined my entire life, tore me away from the home where I always wanted to live, placed me in the middle of a war, kept me prisoner, and I still felt desire for him?
"Damn it! Fucking damn it!"
I complained, frustrated and nervous. Not understanding what I felt.
My whole life I had dreamed of the faceless man with golden eyes. Every boyfriend I ever had, I compared to him. None of them made me so excited or desirous, affected me that way. The imaginary was always better, special, a mix of pain and pleasure. A myriad of inexplicable sensations.
That is why I was still a virgin. I exchanged warm caresses, liked some of them, but not enough to go all the way. Something was missing that I could not name, and that made all the difference.
With Viktor, I did not think of anything. I wanted him ravenous and dizzy, I needed him. And there was my greatest shame. It was him, the beast, who despised me!
I cursed again, terrified by my bodily and emotional response to his touches, his kisses, his licks. My heart raced just remembering the taste of his mouth on mine, that tongue on my skin, between my legs.
"Ah..."
I panted, my face on fire, my vagina throbbing just from remembering. I stared at my healed hands, without a single scratch. Complete madness!
"Seraphine..." Adelina shouted my name and soon after opened the door, her dark eyes scanning my body. She smiled, showing a change of clothes on her arm. "Hmm... I came to bring you some pieces, but I see you are already comfortable in one of my father's shirts."
"I could not stay naked," I defended myself.
"And you didn't? Hard to believe." She stared at the tangled sheets on the bed, full of mischief. "The way my father is..."
"What way?"
"He does not turn down a female. Be she wolf, human... spread your legs, that's it! Two nights sleeping together and you did nothing? Tell me another!"
He did turn me down, which only increased my humiliation. It was ambiguous to feel that way; I should be grateful he did not attack me. However, I could not forget the desire awakened and still present in me.
"Here it is." She left the dress and the panties on the armchair. "After you come down and have coffee, we can go for a walk. There is a small waterfall nearby, very beautiful. What do you think?"
"All right. I'll go soon."
She smiled and left, closing the door behind her.
Irritated, I pulled his shirt over my head and threw it far away. As I dressed, I thought that I needed to find another way out of there, before I lost myself completely. Forgot who I was and that that werewolf had kidnapped me.
I wanted revenge, to show him that I did not fear him nor want him. I should hit him in some weak spot. Then he would see that I was not an obedient, fearful idiot.
Viktor would not frighten me as he did in the mine, nor use me only to discard me as if I were nothing, leaving me crazed like that.
I looked at his shirt lying in a corner, and an absurd idea occurred to me.
I was struck by a pang of fear, but frustration and anger won. I finished adjusting my dress and ran to his closet.
I pulled from the hangers only the special coats, the tunics and garments made of expensive material, certainly custom-made. All his old clothes of a pompous, stuck-up noble went onto the bed. He would see!
I left only the common ones there. With scissors in hand, I leaned against the back of the chair and began to cut piece by piece.
Some fabrics were hard, resistant, lined. Or velvet. I even felt sorry, because they were beautiful, different. Especially the coats and overcoats. But I laughed like an unhinged hysteric. I wanted to see how he would show up at the next meetings, without his own fashion to impress!
Let him wear sweatpants and a T-shirt! He was lucky I left those intact.
I lost track of time, shredding each one, creating a mountain of sleeves, strips, pieces torn in half. The fear still purging, but the joy of getting my revenge being delicious.