Leaning against the wall nearest the door, I place my arms above my head, ignoring the fact that they’re fucked. Between the seven guys in her life, Pru and I are the only two who keep to ourselves. While mine has to do with secrets, his is to do with divorcing reality.
No one notices that side of him… everyone thinks he’s the sweet twin, the soft and kind one, but they don’t know him like I do.
Not even Justice.
“Come on,” Colt bites, grabbing my arm. I must’ve missed something prudent with how she drags me out the door vehemently.
“What now?” I question after she slams the door.
With no response, we wander down the halls. It’s almost as big of a maze as the Edgington Estate, the difference being I don’t know the floorplan of this place.
She pauses randomly, the door to our left is the first she opens. It’s pitch-black, and the shaking from her hand in mine reminds me how she feels about darkness and small spaces.
While there isn’t a single room in this massive place that has something small, her fear is still valid. Instead of looking for the light for her, I allow her to pat her surroundings, hoping it’ll ease her anxiety.
When she finds the switch and the light comes on, her chest rises and falls with a loud relieved sigh. Her expression is anew with curiosity as she takes in her surroundings. Seeing her gaze widen with amazement forces me to take in everything around us.
It’s a library of some sort. It has three different levels and instead of a step-ladder, each one is an actual floor you can walk up to. It’s also really deep, massively so. This is the first room I’ve found in here that’s not cohesive.
From the conversations I’ve had with Mortem, he’s an eclectic man. His tastes are books, history, and art. Much like my ancestors, he admires the beauty of the unexplainable.
“I don’t even like books,” she starts, her words trailing off as she goes to the nearest wall of them. The bindings aren’t pretty or perfect as you’d think. Mortem might be insanely wealthy, a man of much power, but he’s also someone who’d read every book in here more than once and understand the intention of each word.
He may be covered in tattoos, young, and reckless in appearance, but he’s intelligent. People make quick judgement of anyone who doesn’t look like their definition of a square, but I guess that’s why the world underestimates the power of us who hide behind façades.
She continues to wander throughout the library, her eyes stuck to the spines. When she reaches a gold engraved one in particular, she pauses, hesitating to touch it. The discoloration of the book has me wondering its age, but it’s the fact that the edges are faded from the action of opening and closing it.
“You don’t have to enjoy books or reading to appreciate beauty,” I finally respond, waiting for her to trail the fragile material. Her fingers trace the intricate design twining the fastenings, her face in awe.
I don’t think she heard me and for some reason, that makes this moment more enticing. She’s lost in the textures and smell, much like rainy nights at the rock.
Coming behind her, I lightly touch her hip. She jolts a little, her intake of breath reminding me that while she may pretend to be dead inside, the outside is very much alive.
“Think of books like skin,” I mention, lifting the edge of her top, tracing her tattoos from memory. “Gentle and marred, written to tell a story… or hide from the past.”
She inhales sharply when I reach her ribs. I haven’t told her how much I miss her hip piercings and the way she felt more comfortable in her skin before Elijah changed her.
“Each book has a story, much like every scar,” I whisper, bringing my mouth to the shell of her ear. She pushes into me and I nip at her.
“Bridger,” she sighs.
“As a reader, we experience stories at our own pace. Whether that’s with our own point of view or similar to others, we live it at our will alone.”
“Who knew you were such a nerd,” she teases softly. I kiss her throat in response, wanting to offer a different perspective.
“I want to adorn your pages, Starless…” I trace my tongue across her heartbeat. “Whisper new words across your skin, annotating my intentions with ink, succumbing to my own folly with only you in mind.”
She leans into me and I can’t resist from holding her jaw, exposing her swan neck. A little moan escapes her as my tongue tastes all the way to her clavicle. I hold her hip as she sways a little.
The atmosphere around us electrifies every breath shared, the heat somehow rising as I learn her body as if she’s the newest world literature ready for devouring.
When she turns in my hold, capturing my mouth with purpose, she becomes the author of the book of us. She leads me toward a table further in the room, pressing me against it.
Our eyes meet, glazed with intention, lost to feeling, hostages to the pleasure yet to experience.
Flipping us so she’s against the wood, I crouch. Colt’s wearing a skirt. Not her normal style ones, but the before one. Innocent, light gray and tan. She bats her eyes at me, biting her bottom lip gently.
Leaning forward, I bite at her cunt, growling when she yelps. Sometimes, the thrill of the hunt entices me more than the action of fucking her.
“I want you to run, Corpse,” I explain against her, only pulling back to see the flush on her cheeks. She acts like I’m not aware of her want for this.
When she ran from me in the forest, she might have been scared, but the way she wanted me even with fear in her eyes tells me everything I need to know.
“Will you chase me?”
Rising, I sniff her hair aggressively, sinking into the most primal parts of me. “Always. After all, I’m your monster.” It’s no longer a theory or imaginary thought, I’m the monster who will chase her down and fuck her raw.
She whimpers, pressing herself into me. Her nails drag down my chest, marking me. I nip at her chin. “Five seconds. Then you’re as good as prey.”
“Fuck,” she whimpers.
“Four… three…” I recite, and she runs toward the longest part of the library, where I’m sure is at least a few hundred feet.
“You smell like addiction, Col. I’m coming for you,” I announce, feeling the adrenaline kick in. Stalking the room, I can hear her feet connecting with the wood.
Playing into the kink, I try persuading her, knowing it’ll only further entice her. “Running taunts me more, you may as well come out, make it less painful for you.”
“You’ll have to catch me first,” she responds, her voice breathy.
“When I catch you, it’ll be bittersweet. I’ll finally claim you.” Letting out a lower growl, I hear her gasp, leading me to the right side. “My cock will know the inside of you, Starless.”