MOLLY’S LUNGS burned as she dashed through the lawn, her bare feet slipping on the cool, wet grass.
The screams of other girls made her legs stretch out further, trying to put as much distance between the men and her.
The veil swept over her shoulders, tangling behind her, her vision distorted.
She didn’t know which direction to run—the corset dug into her ribs as she glanced back, seeing tall, shirtless men not walking anymore, but jogging, their eye’s sight set on their desire.
Cloaked in the night sky, they moved like vipers, like shadows plaguing the realm.
One girl screamed, hands gripping her by the waist and lifting her off the ground, disappearing into the forest.
Scream after scream thickened the air, and Molly ran faster, huffing out shallow breaths.
Another girl was tackled to the ground, squealing.
Laughter and shouts of the men sent chills down her bare arms.
Someone snatched at her dress, yanking her back. She stumbled, hearing the tear of fabric, the cool breeze chilling her left upper thigh.
“You’re mine,” the man’s voice was raspy and deep.
When he gripped her arm, she shot back, shoving him hard enough he let go, stunned.
Now was her chance.
She eyed the forest, dark and thick, and switched directions, aiming to vanish into its vastness.
Through the forest, the cries echoed, distant, but still sending Molly’s heart racing. Branches cut at her bare skin, slicing open her forearms and thighs and the earth floor dirtied her feet.
She brushed back a branch, looking behind her when she heard something snap.
Nothing.
Only the darkness of the forest. She thought of the goddess of the night, of darkness.
She spun, rushing forward only to trip on an overgrown root, crashing to the ground hard.
She gasped at the impact, wheezing until she heard a groan.
She glanced up, catching movement through the leaves. She quietly stood, edging closer only to jerk back.
A man still partly dressed, with his trousers low on his rear, pounding into a girl still veiled who moaned at his power, whispering to him, egging him on to go harder, faster.
Molly tiptoed back, a fisted hand to her mouth, afraid they’d hear her.
She darted through the woods, searching for somewhere to hide. Now the air was filled, not only with screams but also with cries of pleasure.
She turned sharply, only for her heart to seize.
In a clearing in front of her stood the figure of a tall, powerful man.
His sharp features held weapons of beauty and promise. Rugged, light hair tied back by a leather thong. A pretty face. A deadly body.
She could taste his desire and see it on his features. The demon wanted her.
A cry rang so close to them that she shivered as she stepped back.
He shook his head once. A warning. “Don’t run from me again,” the man hissed—the same voice from before.
Molly panted hard, eyeing the tiny windows of escape nearby.
She glanced at his long, muscular legs, his trousers low, but tight to his skin. His bare chest gleamed with sweat. A familiar scent that she couldn’t place.
He was on the hunt, and he had decided she was his prey.
Oh, did she have news for him?
“Don’t chase me then,” Molly bit, the icy sensation behind her eyes a telling side of her powers raging forward, but the veil concealed that. “Better yet, I’d run from me if I were you.”
She’d show him her claws and venom.
She’d give him a grand show.
He laughed darkly, his head tilted to the side as he studied her. She knew that look—she had seen it before in Tensley’s features. He was looking for a weak spot.
“On your knees.”
She glared at him. “No.”
“Ah.” He laughed to himself. “A dame that needs to be tamed. My expertise.”
She blanched at his words.
“If you knew who I was, you would be on your fucking knees before I even ordered so. But you’re new here, aren’t you? I shall not punish you for it. For now, at least.” He unbuttoned his trousers, not dangerously low enough to reveal his manhood, but the top of his pubic bone visible. “I tasted your fierceness, your strength, and beauty. I can smell my own scent on your skin.”
Molly frowned, and then her hand shot her neck. The perfume…
He flashed his teeth, long and sharp as if to mark like Tensley had done. “Follow by scent, beauty hidden by a veil. Show me your face so I know the angel I bed tonight.”
“You’re insane,” she seethed and backed up.
Only that pissed him off, and she could see the moment his beast took control.
He moved too fast, so fast that she didn’t have time to scream. He clamped his hands around her arms and held her tight. She glared at his dark eyes—a sign of his arousal, and she wanted to puke. On his fucking bare feet.
“Are you ugly? Is that why?” He chuckled at his insult.
She wasn’t letting him touch her—let alone fuck her. She glared up at the man’s sharp features, even his eyes were sharp, staring down at her.
She’s had enough of this sick bastard. “Only on the inside.” Molly slashed her nails across his high cheekbones, and he hissed. She shoved him again and ran, the roaring of his anger shaking her body and the ground.
The chaos of the shadows and the cries and screams flooded Molly’s senses and mind, and she plunged deeper, deeper.
But she heard his footfalls pounding like a raging beast behind her.
He was angry.
He was aroused.
She was doomed.
A roar shook her to her core.
A roar she knew well.
And iron arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground and into his chest.
“I found her first,” the prince hissed.
TENSLEY GROWLED.
Found her first?
Fuck no.
“She’s been claimed,” Tensley fought, turning to face the demon that tried to take away his dolcezza.
Tensley’s eyes narrowed. He recognized that face, those pale eyes of ice, that fair skin of snow, and wavy golden hair.
The prince, Fallen’s only son, bared his teeth, elongated as if he had played with the idea of sinking his teeth deep into Molly’s flesh.
To claim her as his.
“Ah, my mistake,” the prince said lowly, but his eyes darkened when he sought Molly.
Thankfully, the veil concealed her face and eyes as Tensley felt her powerful, dainty hands clench his shaking biceps.
Tensley had smelled the scent of a male close to hers, but now she stood in front of him, and he realized she was covered in a male’s scent.
“She smells divine with my scent,” the prince added, a grin of a wolf. “I wanted to make sure other beasts stayed away.”
Tensley snarled.
The beast was living under the shallow surface. Hungry for blood, hungry for violence, and hungry for his mate.
The prince stepped closer, the shadows hiding his features. One more step and the moonlight streamed through the branches and revealed an ugly cut along his cheekbone.
He stared at Molly, bowing slightly. “I shall wear this mark as a token of your desire,” said the prince, darkly, softly, as if it were an intimate moment between lovers.
Tensley growled lowly in his throat.
She marked him.
His beast thrashed. Jealous, possessive, angry. The prince taunted him, knowing very well how pissed off it would make him. The prince knew he was playing Tensley into a fury, but his beast couldn’t calm down.
Not when another beast wore a mark of hers.
“Perhaps,” the prince licked at his sharp front tooth, his eyes raking over Molly longingly, “we can come to a compromise for a night between her ivory thighs.”
Cold rage filled Tensley’s muscles, his bones, and he struck—his iron fist slamming into the prince’s cheek, bones crushing, blood splattering from his mouth.
Molly’s hand gripped his bicep and pulled him back into her embrace, seething, panting for more blood.
The prince laughed, spitting out blood onto the dark grass and looked up at them.
“That crown upon your head, that gold blood inside of you means nothing to me,” Tensley hissed. “Touch her, look at her—and I will tear your insides out and force them down your greedy throat.”
“Tensely,” Molly warned, shaking her head
The prince’s nostrils flared, but instead, he laughed again. “Her pussy must be platinum gold to keep a beast. Perhaps another maiden will let me between her thighs tonight,” the prince muttered, a sick grin warming his lip. He turned, leaving them alone, but Tensley wasn’t calm.
“Tensley,” Molly whispered after a moment of his snarls and pants. She stroked his shaking bicep, the muscles straining.
He glanced down at her white dress, ruined with dirt and torn, exposing her upper thighs. Now there was just a mere two pieces of fabric concealing her beautiful figure.
“All I smell is him,” he bit out, turning to face her.
Her eyes widened at his dark eyes, at his contorted features.
He grabbed her wrist and yanked her, so she melded to his tall frame, letting her feel his thickening arousal.
She gasped at his quickness, at his violent urges, but blushed.
Because she wanted him just as much.
“The sick bastard,” he hissed. “My beast is warring inside of me. He wants you. He wants to claim you all over again.” He swept the veil to the side, letting his teeth drag along her neck, then to the tops of her breast, nipping once, so she cried out. “To think another man touched you—” He growled, rubbing himself on her. He wanted his scent deep within her pores.
She shook her head. “I didn’t let him touch me. I fought back.”
He pressed his forehead to her lacy, veil covered one and gripped her cheeks. “I want you to mark me. I need it,” he bit.
Molly froze, and then pulled the veil back, revealing her beautiful features contorted in confusion. Her blue eyes wide and wild, her cheeks rosy from running, and her lips begging him to swell them. “Mark you?”
“Mark me so every single beast, every single woman here knows I’m claimed. Knows my body and my sinful soul belong to only you,” he said, his hands lowering to her hips to anchor her against him. He let her feel the throb of his cock in his trousers, and he saw the moment she felt it, her cheeks flushing, but her eyes grew hungry with want.
His dolcezza craved him, maybe as much as he craved her.
“But Tensley,” she whispered, toying with his collar. “I can’t mark you.”
He raised her hands to his thirsty mouth, licking each finger. “Then mark me with these.”
She swallowed thickly, watching as he licked the final pinkie. With sex heavy in the air, the cries of pleasure urging his beast forward, he could tell Molly felt the need to be beneath him, or above him, as long as it meant having him inside of her. Deep and hard.
She licked her lips slowly and leaned closer. “Are you ready to be claimed, Tensley?”
He roared, the blood rushing to his thickening length, and he picked her up, cupping her ass cheeks and laid her down, his thighs spreading hers apart.
He yanked down his pants, his hardness jolting free, and he fisted himself, pulling her dress up to expose her own wetness.
“Claim me, Molly,” he hissed, lowering himself so the angry crown of his head slid against her entrance.
Her nails dug into his shoulder blades.
“Claim the beast and the man, and I’m yours.” He thrust deep inside of her, groaning at the tightness, the blissful clench of her around him, and he caught her gasping mouth with his.
Sucking.
Nipping.
Devouring.
“Yes,” she cried, her nails dragging deep, hard so they broke flesh.
“I’m fucking yours. This cock, this body, this soul—all fucking yours, dolcezza,” he rasped out, sliding in and out at a painful rhythm. Her breasts bulged in her dress, trapping in the tight white fabric of innocence. Innocence he had devoured and taken.
Her golden locks spread across the forest floor, tangled in leaves, grass, and dirt, a beauty of nature and strength.
Her nails crept into his loose trousers, digging into his clenching ass cheeks.
Their bodies meshed together in a fury of rage and beauty, the beast taking the angel, the darkness consuming the light, and all blended into one chaotic beauty.
“If I had a heart,” he whispered darkly, her piercing eyes finding his in the heavy fog of desire and heat, “it’d be yours.”
Her eyes glowed at that, her parted mouth panting loudly into his shoulder. The rush of pleasure and pain, her bare ass hitting the forest floor, and her soft skin crashing into his hard, rippling muscles.
She was the sun, and he was the darkness of the sky.
“Tensley,” she moaned his name like a prayer, like a curse and warning, and he wanted to hear her say it over and over again. Each night he bed her, he wanted to hear her panting his name like a promise.
“Come on my cock, dolcezza,” he demanded, angling so his pelvis bone rubbed against her clit.
Her features contorted in pleasure, and her fingers burned into his rear, drawing blood, drawing a roar from him as he came. He pulled out, his essence shooting across her ivory, flat stomach in long ropes of pleasure. His scent coating hers.
He held himself above her, their chests warring against each other as they caught their breath. Sweat pooled on his upper lip, and he wiped it away, watching the sweat roll down her temple and into the golden curls.
She glanced up at him, her eyes tired but warm. And soft. A look of pure bliss, of peace and surrender.
A look a demon should never see.
A look he should not return.
He stood, yanking his trousers back up and helped Molly to her feet.
She looked at her fingers, stained with his blood, and she paled.
He grinned. “Looks like you marked me good.”
She fought back a smile and scowled at him.
He noted her bare feet, dirty and swollen, and he scooped her up, her arms automatically wrapping around his neck.
She leaned her head against his cheek and kissed him there.
They walked in silence, a thousand things he wanted to say to her stayed trapped within his raging chest.
A beast should never feel such tender things for another.
He was doomed.