Chapter 301. Rat Fight V

Chapter 301: 301. Rat Fight V

Maisie

Gasping for air, I looked up and felt a cold drop of sweat trace my spine. His eyes were a terrifying black, latched onto the pulse pounding in my throat.

There was nothing of Mercer there. Just that bottomless darkness, a void of madness that no light could breach.

His body pinned me and my wrists burned where he slid me up the wall effortlessly, until our faces were only half a breath apart.

His fingers clenched and unclenched as he watched my pulse pound faster, riveted. Black eyes flared with blood lust and desire, and fangs peeked out from under his lips, stretching.

"I could kill you," he whispered, his hot breath fanning over my face. His grip on my wrist tightened just shy of bruising. Couldn’t move. It was a dominant pose and every inch of movement would only serve as an invitation for him to get up close and personal.

To touch me or kill me, I didn’t know.

"You won’t hurt me," I said more to myself than him as I felt the bones in my wrists creak and the fear in me spiked, making his nostrils flare. "You love me."

Mercer paused.

Then a soft, scathing laughter spilled from him. "You never really did know when to stop." He dropped his head and his mouth brushed my chin, following the line of my jaw to the hollow under my ear. "You’re either clueless. Or stupid. Unless..."

My heart thudded when he breathed against the pulse. Heat scoured me, following my veins and settling into an insistent pounding between my legs.

"You wanted to offer me this?" he asked, dragging his fang along my vein.

My eyes closed as I felt his need push against mine, making it stronger. A sound escaped me as his lips worked on the old scar where Tessa had stabbed me.

My body rebelled at the surge of passion and my neck arched ever so slightly. I was suddenly made aware of how naked he was.

I wanted this. Goddess, how I wanted it. It would feel so damn good to let him bite me, sink his teeth deep, pull me into him and twist the pain into pleasure. I knew what it would feel like.

I craved it. I craved his mark. I craved being owned by him. I trembled, shivered for it. I needed that fire that would steal my breath and take me to unimaginable heights of ecstacy. It would be incredible. I would be halfway through to bring complete again.

But it wouldn’t happen. Couldn’t. If it did, it was only a matter of time before I was back in their beds again, taking them all at once, finishing the Erasthai bond.

"Get off," I panted, the delicious feeling coursing from my neck to fill me. My toes curled and core clenched.

The hard hunger in him shifted to something darker and insidious. "Tell me it doesn’t feel good when I do this."

His free hand dropped from the wall, the rough backs of his knuckles grazing the hem of my dress. The phantom touch alone sent a shudder down my spine.

Slowly, agonizingly, his large, calloused fingers slipped beneath the fabric, tracing the sensitive, goosebump-pebbled skin of my inner thigh.

The heat radiating from his palm was a brand, a scorching contrast to the damp chill of the tile against my back.

He mapped the quivering muscles of my leg with a patience that didn’t match the heated look in his eyes, his thumb sweeping in slow, possessive arcs that drew a choked gasp from my throat.

With every inch his hand ascended, the dress bunched higher around my hips, exposing me to the cold, damp air.

My knees weakened, trembling wildly as his fingers grazed the damp lace of my underwear. A dark, guttural hum vibrated in his chest, a sound of wicked satisfaction at the heat that teased his fingertips.

He knew exactly what he was doing to me, how my body was traitorously weeping for him despite the terror seizing my mind. His hand cupped me through the fabric, a heavy, claiming weight that made my hips jerk forward involuntarily, chasing the friction.

One long finger traced the slick seam through the lace, pressing upward with enough pressure that made my vision white out for a second.

Without warning, his fangs punctured my skin, not deep enough to leave a mark yet, but deep enough to draw blood.

My hips buckled at the dual sensation, worsened yet when he dragged his tongue over the puncture.

"Yes," I breathed, almost moaning. "Goddess help me. It does. Please... stop."

It was getting harder to remember why I wanted him to. Harder to care.

"I don’t think you mean that," he purred gently, coaxing. "You followed me. You always follow me. You want something. I know you. I can smell you. You’re mine." His hold on my wrist tightened and his free hand crawled up my waist, clipping my ribs until they hurt. "It won’t hurt. I’ll make it feel good. Nothing would hurt anymore. I’ll make it good for you. I could be good for you. Won’t you let me?"

He sounded asinine.

"Mercer," I whimpered, tears springing to my eyes. "You’re hurting me."

Wonder crossed his face and I couldn’t look away from those black depths.

"Don’t cry," he said, tilting his head to lick my neck again in time with his words. I almost passed out from the searing ache of desire. "I didn’t want it to be like this. But he fights me. It makes me mad. He knows I want you." His body tightened with sudden anger. "I hunger for you, and he won’t let me have you."

His fangs nicked my skin again and I prepared myself for the pain, my body crying out for it, my soul begging for it, even as my mind screamed no.

My will was too thin and I didn’t want to push him away. "Please," I begged. Do it. Please don’t do it.

Mercer flung himself from me.