People always force others to feel their own misery from time to time. It’s the reason I stay antisocial.

Even my father—

“An image of your father just flashed through my mind. That’s not where I want your head going right now, gorgeous,” Damien says across my lips, as a smile forms.

“You’re getting images? Why aren’t I?”

“Because you’re not really letting go,” he says, sitting up as his hand comes down to my hip.

Already inside me, he rolls those hips of his in a way that is so perfectly practiced, and it hits everything in the right way. He works the bottom the way most men wish they could work the top.

“You’re going to lose sight of me if you don’t get my other hand cuffed, Violet. I can’t watch you stare at me that way with one hand free for much longer. I’m much stronger than you, and it’s so much safer for you if I’m bound before that controls slips even a fraction. Because I want to see you looking at me like this. It’s part of the perfect pleasure I can draw from this.”

Without farther delay, I quickly cuff his wrist, and they immediately rattle when something in the air noticeably changes. It gets warmer, and I almost feel drugged in the best possible way when his eyes flake a beautiful dark blue in the depths of his pupil. It’s as though I’ve just witnessed the off switch for his control, and a shudder passes through me at how close that was cut.

It only makes me kiss him harder as he rolls his hips again, hitting every note perfectly, while he plays me like his own personal instrument. My hands move all over him, as he does all the work from the bottom without even the use of his hands.

I didn’t know sex could feel this intoxicating, and I can’t even catch my breath long enough to figure out why my entire body feels like every nerve inside my body is suddenly sexual enough to join in on the party.

My body is buzzing with energy now, instead of simply humming, as his hips start growing more insistent, and he makes some tortured sound in his throat when our lips break apart.

His head falls back, brow wrinkling as his lips part, and I watch as he continues moving, causing a thousand images to roll through my mind like a hammer shattering a barrier.

It almost hurts, but the pain fades quickly into toe-curling ecstasy, as I see a thousand images of every scene of tonight play through my head through his eyes, feeling it as he felt it, and seeing us through all the mirrors of his bedroom.

It’s every angle on a loop, coupled with the divine way his hips keep rolling. It’s like we finally chased down that escaped orgasm, stepped on it, and shattered thirty more just like it all at once, when my eyes are forced to shut.

I cry out a garbled, almost silenced sound, because it’s overwhelming and words can’t form. My body is so awake and acutely tuned, that I feel every perfect inch of him when my body shudders over his. His hips rock furiously, growing more insistent, as I pant and cling to him.

When his lips find mine, it’s almost violent, and I limply hang on, letting him draw out the most body-wringing orgasm I’ve ever endured, as after-shocks of pleasure roll over me with each upward thrust he perfects.

Something cracks and groans, as I lazily start kissing down his neck, never wanting to move from his body, needing as much as he can possibly give me.

Another crack and groan go hand in hand, seconds before something loud bursts somewhere overhead.

I jolt when a chunk of the wall slams into the side of the bed, but before I can scramble away, a firm, strong hand grabs my hip. I’m roughly yanked against him seconds before we’re spinning. The roomful of mirrors look like a blur of motion as my world is turned around and tossed in a different direction.

He comes down on me hard, his hips almost painfully forcing my legs wider apart, as he continues to kiss me stupid, filling my mind with more and more images of us, his eyes wide open as he breaks the kiss and stares down at me.

I’m breathing heavily, grappling for him to be closer, when another chunk of the wall falls with a loud crash. It hits the floor as chains clang, and then his other hand grabs my other hip.

His eyes are so light blue now that they’re almost white, as he tears the necklace away from me. Pin pricks of pupils are there, and I suck in a breath, feeling a taste of familiarity in this moment.

It’s pure abandon.

This is his monster.

Or at least, it’s almost his monster.

And he now knows he has me.

Uh-oh. I followed all the rules…

On his next thrust, my body is hit with a shock of ecstasy like I’ve never felt before. It steals my breath and electrifies my veins, setting off an orgasm that is almost painfully sinful.

The one after that sends me toppling over an edge so steep that I feel like I’m falling before shattering into oblivion, garbled sounds escaping me in ways that I don’t even find embarrassing right now.

His third thrust shatters me all over again, and I gasp for air, clawing at him to get closer, wanting to—

His own sound echoes through my ears as his hips jolt against mine. There’s just a bite of pain inside me that is quickly soothed with warmth, as I’m shoved up on the bed. Damien continues making that tortured sound of guilty pleasure.

I can’t take my eyes off his face—distorted in sweet agony.

His pupils start to dilate, and they quickly return to normal, even as he rolls his hips again.

It’s when I feel what is slick and all over my thighs as he shoves forward again, eyes still fixed to mine, that I realize what’s just happened.

I didn’t die.

I didn’t feel that pain he told me I would.

And I’m living…as he continues to…release himself inside me.

His breath shudders out of him, as he reaches up and cups my face, thumb brushing over my lips.

“You didn’t stop me,” he says like it’s an almost breathless accusation, eyes going a little hard. “You’re…alive,” he adds on a sharp whisper, as he continues to stare at me with what is almost an angry expression.

I kiss him so he stops frowning at me and ruining this moment by thinking too hard. I really fucked up, but he swore there’d be pain.

“You didn’t break,” he goes on, interrupting the kiss as he rolls his hips one last time, dragging his lips up to my ear as he pulls me to him.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I say to him, a bit of worry inching up in my spine as he slowly nods, hiding his face. “I can’t die,” I add on a whisper, feeling so stupid about having this conversation right now.

He lifts up, a lazy grin tugging at his lips, the angry expression gone as the air starts to dissipate with all the heady…whatever it is he exudes.

It’s almost like a cold shock to the system when it stops, leaving gradually one second…until it abruptly fades out all at once.

Damien falls to his side, and I dart to my knees when his eyes roll back in his head.

“Damien!” I say, panicking a little when he just stays limp.

My heart pounds in my chest, warning me to calm down.

I drop my head to his chest, listening, and manage to hear the faintest of heartbeats. The only thing that even gives me a little pause is the fact they make his heartbeat sound optional.

But if it’s beating at all, that means he’s okay, right?

Fuck, I don’t know how to check the vital signs of monsters.

I feel around on his neck for a pulse, since based on my experience, I’m certain the one in the wrist is just a myth.

The next thing I do is run to grab my phone, but when I dial Vance’s number, the line never rings through. “Damn fucking ghosts in this town,” I say on a frustrated, slightly freaked out breath.

What if by me not dying he dies?

The weird part about all this is the very creepy grin frozen on his face, like he’s happy to finally be dying.

I turn and grab a white robe that’s hanging on his door, and run to poke my head through the door. Thankfully, everyone knows who Damien is tonight, so it’s not hard to find someone willing to do his bidding when the smell of him is most definitely all over me.

Chapter 20

VANCE

“How did this happen?” I ask Arion, who shrugs an unconcerned shoulder while he plays with his phone.

“I certainly didn’t do it,” he tells me, gesturing to the ten dead wolves shot up with silver on his property. “Violet’s birthday party going well?”

“So help me, Arion, if you fucking killed a bunch of wolves as a petty tantrum for not being invited—”

“Oh, please. I’m hardly worried about missing a party. As I said, Violet is easily charmed. However, if you don’t—”

“How did the fucking wolves die, Arion? When Emit gets here—”

“We’ve lived for far too long for him to think this was me,” he says, gesturing around again. “You know this wasn’t me.”

“But was it your people?” I ask seriously.

“I don’t know,” he says as he continues fucking with his phone like a distracted adolescent. “Where do you think she keeps those oranges? I’ve yet to figure that out, and I gave you my only one. Don’t you owe me a favor?”

“I passed it off to Damien, so no, I’m not making this mess disappear. It’d be too much of a favor for a bloody orange anyway.”

I run a frustrated hand through my hair. Emit is going to lose his shit.

My gaze cuts to one wolf, absently glancing over the small thing, and my eyes close as I exhale harshly. “Shit.”

“What?” Arion asks in a bored tone as I kneel closer to the small, lifeless wolf.

“This is Fay.”

“Fay? Who the hell is Fay?”

“She’s supposed to be in Vegas. Emit sent all his omegas away since they were getting antsy with all the tension in the air,” I quietly explain.

I quickly look over the other wolves, not recognizing them, and hoping none of the others are here.

“As in the omegas Shera said Violet has taken up with?” he asks, putting that phone away like he’s suddenly interested.

I run a hand over my jaw and fire off another quick text to Damien. She just lost her mother, then Anna, and now Fay. How much can one girl handle before she finally breaks?

“If vampires did this, they wouldn’t have picked some lowly omega Emit screws on occasion. The omegas are considered the sluts of the pack; not targets,” he states.

“Or they just didn’t care which wolves they killed, so long as it sent a message that a war was coming,” I go on. “Perhaps your betas are acting up again.”

“My betas don’t kill wolves,” he says on a snarl. “They know I’ll handle it if necessary, and then you hypocrites will punish—”

A howl in the distance ends the regurgitated argument, and he huffs out a breath. “He’s so sensitive about wolves dying, so this isn’t going to be fun,” Arion states like he’s already exasperated. “I was in the middle of playing with my pencils.”