Chapter 72 Chapter Nineteen
His words sank into me, and before I could even draw a breath, he thrust forward. The table groaned beneath us, wood protesting under his strength as he drove into me—harder, deeper, as if the two rounds before had been nothing but a prelude. My scream split the air, raw and hoarse, but it melted into a moan, shameless and broken.
My cunt stretched around him, walls spasming to take his monstrous cock again. Pain and ecstasy fused, spilling down my thighs, dripping onto the polished table beneath us. His claws dug into the wood beside my head, leaving deep gouges, anchoring himself as his hips slammed against me, relentless.
Every thrust rattled through me, my body jerking helplessly, breasts bouncing, nipples hard and aching. I clawed at his shoulders, his arms, his chest, leaving bloody scratches, but he didn’t stop. He only growled—a sound that vibrated straight through my bones—like my desperate marks fueled him.
Phantom touches returned, crueler now. Invisible hands seized my wrists and pinned them above my head. While his grip circled my throat, tightening just enough to make my vision blur, to make every thrust feel sharper, deeper, unbearable. My clit was stroked mercilessly, unseen fingers rubbing in time with his brutal pace, pushing me higher and higher until I thought I’d shatter.
“Lucian—oh, God—God!” My voice cracked, my body arching under him.
“Not God,” he snarled, his mouth crashing against my ear, hot breath searing me. “Only me.”
His teeth sank into my neck—not deep enough to break me, but enough to mark, to claim. I screamed, writhing, my orgasm detonating. My body convulsed, cunt clenching like a vice around him, juices gushing, soaking his cock and the table.
But he didn’t slow. He fucked through my release, pounding harder, punishing, each thrust driving another wave of pleasure-pain ripping through me. Tears streaked my face, but my lips were open in a sobbing moan, begging for more, begging for mercy, begging for nothing at all.
His cock swelled inside me, impossibly harder, heavier, stretching me to breaking. My mind splintered, my body a toy in his hands, my name—myself—slipping away with every brutal stroke.
And then his power surged—his mouth sucked my nipples raw, ghost hands spanking my ass until the sound cracked through the air, his physical finger stroking my clit faster, rougher. Pleasure tore me apart from every angle, my body convulsing, squirting across his cock and the table, soaking everything.
Lucian’s roar split the mansion again—monstrous, unholy, claiming. His hips slammed into me one final time, burying his cock to the hilt as his seed poured into me, hot, endless, filling me until it spilled back out in thick streams.
The table cracked beneath us, wood splintering, but neither of us moved. His claws clenched the surface, his chest heaved, his eyes blazed hellfire red as his cock pulsed inside me, still hard, still claiming.
When he finally looked down at me, his lips curved into a feral, predator’s smile before he drove back into me without mercy. I lost all sense of time—one moment it was night, the next it was already afternoon, still he didn’t relent until my body was wrecked beneath his.
His stamina was inhuman. I knew he could’ve kept me pinned for three days straight, breaking me apart until I was nothing but sweat, bruises, and trembling pleas. He only stopped when he realized I was seconds from passing out, my body gone slack in his grip.
I’d never felt this hollowed out, this sore, as though every nerve had been scoured raw. Between my thighs, it felt like he had carved a tent into me, leaving me ruined in a way that would make standing, walking—breathing—feel impossible for days.
Lucian’s chest rose and fell beneath me, each breath still rough, His claws had finally receded, but the faint sting of where they’d pressed lingered. The red had dimmed from his eyes. Only faint embers remained. His hands began stroking my back, my thighs, anywhere he’d gripped too hard.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve stopped. I lost myself in you.”
I swallowed, my throat raw, but my voice came out steady. “You didn’t hurt me.”
His eyes searched mine, like he was hunting for a lie. Then he lowered his forehead to mine, kissing there once, twice, then again as though each kiss might undo the damage his roughness had left behind.
“I never want to see fear in your eyes when you look at me,” he murmured, the rumble in his chest softer now. “Not because of what I become.”
My body still trembled, but it wasn’t fear that kept me close—it was him. My fingers curled into his damp shirt. “You didn’t scare me.”
His mouth brushed over my temple, my cheek, the slope of my nose, until he finally gathered me up in his arms. He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me out of the wrecked kitchen and down the hall. His steps were steady, his grip firm but careful, as though I might fall apart if he wasn’t gentle enough.
In the bathroom, he set me down on the cool marble counter. Steam curled from the shower as he tested the water, making sure it wasn’t too hot before bringing me beneath it. He stood behind me, one arm braced around my waist to hold me up while the other stroked a washcloth over my skin.
The heat soothed my aches, but it was his hands that undid me—the same hands that had clawed me open now moved in slow, reverent circles. He washed between my thighs with a touch so careful it made my throat tighten. Every time I winced at soreness, his mouth found my shoulder, leaving soft, guilty kisses.
When the water finally ran clear, he turned it off and wrapped me in a towel, drying me gently as if I were porcelain. He pressed another kiss to my forehead before lifting me again, carrying me back to his room.
The shirt he slid over my head was his—soft, oversized, smelling like him. His fingers brushed down my arms, smoothing the fabric, and when he tucked me beneath the blankets, I felt small in a way I hadn’t in years. Small, but safe.
He climbed in beside me, pulling me against his chest. His lips found my hairline, my temple, my brow, kissing each place until my eyes fluttered closed.
But my thoughts wouldn’t stay quiet. My voice was soft when I finally asked, “What… what was that? Back there. The claws. The shadows. The… voices.”
I thought I knew Mr. Vale. I thought I understood the weight he carried—his past, his sins, the darkness he admitted to. But nothing had prepared me for what I’d just seen.
Not the claws that tore through his skin. Not the eyes, red and burning like the devil himself had slipped into his body. Not the way his very presence seemed to swell, filling the room, doubling in size until he wasn’t a man anymore but something bigger. Something monstrous.
At first, I had been afraid—truly afraid. My heart had stumbled, my body frozen beneath the weight of him. But then, as the shadows wrapped around me and his power devoured the air itself, fear twisted into something else. Something sharp. Something hungry.
Fascination.
I’d thought his past was just a story—a brutal cult, rituals and blood oaths, human darkness disguised as worship. And when he walked away from it, I thought that was the end. That whatever haunted him was nothing more than memory.
But staring at him now, with his hellfire eyes, his claws, his impossible stamina, I knew how wrong I’d been.
Lucian Vale wasn’t just a man with a dark past. He was the darkness itself.
And God help me, I couldn’t look away.
His chest stilled under my cheek. For a long moment, he said nothing, only tightened his hold on me, Then, low and rough: “It’s the part of me I try to bury. The power of the lust hell left behind. When I go back to the chapel and take my seat as one of the seven, it surfaces.”
I tilted my head up, meeting his gaze in the dim light. “And?”
His jaw clenched, shame flickering across his face. “Last night, I let it through. Because I wanted you too badly.”
I reached up, brushing my fingers over his cheek. “You think that makes me afraid of you?”
His eyes darkened, soft and dangerous all at once. He bent, pressing his mouth to my forehead again, lingering there. “I hope not. Because if you ever looked at me with fear, I wouldn’t survive it.”
My chest ached, but I smiled faintly, tugging him closer until his body covered mine. “Then don’t hide it from me. Don’t apologize for what you are. Just… don’t leave me in the dark.”
Lucian exhaled, the sound heavy, almost breaking. He kissed me again—forehead, cheek, lips—slow this time, nothing like before.
“I’ll tell you more,” he promised. “But not tonight. Tonight, you rest.”
He gathered me tighter in his arms, my head tucked beneath his chin. His hand stroked down my spine, slow and steady, until my trembling eased. And when his lips pressed one last kiss to the crown of my head, I finally let my eyes close.