“Fuck. You know how to make me hard, Kovacs.”
Warwick’s attention drifted over the unconscious, beaten bodies on the ground. A low growl vibrated in the air as he turned his focus onto me, shocking emotion through my entire body. You were never prepared for Warwick, and the ruthless way he seized and engulfed you, giving you no choice but to bow to your own downfall.
And my demise was my emotions, the burden of my actions, seeing the faces of my victims. Two lives were ended tonight by my hand. One I sacrificed to live, and one who sacrificed for me to live.
The image of my uncle engulfed me in so much agony, it felt as if our link was being seared off, and I had to carve out a bit of myself, dumping it on the dirt like pumpkin guts. I couldn’t breathe, wanting nothing more than to claw my way out of my hell. My lungs clenched, suffocating me.
“Warwick.” His name barely made it out, splitting between a plea and a warning.
“What do you need, princess?” His tone was direct, telling me he would be whatever I needed to help me survive the moment. A rock for me to hold on to or one I beat myself against.
“I need you. Make me forget.” I whispered hoarsely, not able to stand one more second in my grief. “I can’t breathe.”
His eyes darkened, the intensity drilling into me. Lust. Passion. Violence. It was alive, weaving and threading through the air between us. I don’t know how I ignored it before. How I thought it could be my imagination. The connection was subtle, but it was there, pulsing and needy, returning so gradually it was hard to recognize.
The ghost of his tongue licked between my thighs, causing a gasp to catch in my chest, snapping the last wall of my defense.
And his.
We moved for each other like prey. Our mouths and bodies collided in a turbulent storm of desperation, where our battle would leave everything around us in shambles. Sensing it was the last thing I wanted, he wasn’t gentle, his mouth claiming mine with ferocity, dragging me kicking and screaming from the abyss. Tearing the numbness from my body, pouring frantic emotion into my veins.
The need to taste him, feel him inside and out, dominate and rule with a primal instinct.
Growling, Warwick seized my ass, easily lifting me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he slammed me back into the tile, the water cascading down over us.
Anger. Grief. Devastation. I was broken into pieces, losing myself to the pain.
He drove need through my soul, flaying me open and exposing me. The unemotional shield I found myself in was stripped by his hungry lips, his ruthless hands. He ripped my top and sports bra over my head, the fabric slapping to the ground. His starving gaze tracked over my breasts, the bruises, cuts, and scars which marked my skin like tattoos.
His tongue flicked over my nipple before his mouth covered my breast, sucking and nipping. My spine arched, my core throbbing, as I felt the light brushes of his presence gliding over my skin.
His mouth claimed mine again, creating more urgency.
It wasn’t a want—it was a necessity.
The ground under my feet was sliding away, and he was my one tether to life. The only way out of the void. My survival. My escape.
Tearing his shirt from him, I groaned as my hands moved down his ripped torso, shoving his pants down, my hand wrapping around his girth while inside my mind, my tongue licked up his shaft. It was faint, but I could feel the throb of his cock, tracing the vein, tasting the pre-cum on my tongue.
“Fuck.” His cock twitched and hardened to my imaginary touch. Warwick sucked in with a grunt, eyes meeting mine with intensity. He felt it. Knew what it meant.
His nose flared. Something in him snapped. I could feel it—a chain breaking.
The man was gone; it was only the wolf. The legend who would annihilate and pillage.
He dropped me back to the ground, kicking off his boots, and yanking down his pants. His thick cock and unbelievable physique had me touching myself, my shadow sucking his dick as I watched him undress.
A noise came from him before he shredded the pants and underwear from my body, his huge palms lifting me back up again under the stream of pelting water. His wet naked skin rubbed against mine.
There were no words needed. We needed carnage. Blood. Pain.
Clawing and scratching at his skin, he didn’t give me any warning. He thrust into me, so deep and hard both of us bellowed out, overcome by a zap of electricity running down our nerves.
The temperate water cascaded down over our hot skin as he pulled almost all the way out, driving back in so forcefully, he pinned my lower back to the wall.
“Oh, fuck!” I screamed, losing all ability for logic. I needed more. Tightening my legs, I tipped back, feeling him sink in deeper, his rhythm picking up.
The hint of his mouth on my breast, up the back of my neck, between my thighs, teasing my ass. It only made me more feral, tearing into his flesh like it was my meal.
He pounded into me, his hands running through my hair, clutching the back of my scalp, holding me to reach even deeper. “I can’t seem to get close enough. To be deep enough. I want to destroy you, claim every last bit of you.”
“Do it!” I grunted, riding him harder. The need to crawl inside him, to feel him take me over, to end my sorrow. The sensations he was driving through me were worse than any drug. I knew I would crash and burn, and the fall would break me into pieces, but I couldn’t stop the desperate need for him to completely consume me.
Grief, anger, fear—I took it out on him, demanding punishment, requiring cruelty. I was my own judge and jury, and I needed him to be my executioner.
He grabbed my arms, forcing them to grip the shower head above me, stretching and curving my torso as his hand clasped around my neck, squeezing just enough my nerves danced with elation, turning the sensation even higher. The hints of an orgasm squeezed my pussy around him. The wolf roared, letting him completely free.
Savagely, he plunged into me over and over. Merciless and brutal. My eyes watered at the exquisite pain. The sounds of his dick thrusting into me, slapping and wet, mingled with our groans bouncing off the walls.
The deep guttural noises coming from me only increased his frenzy, spurring him on to choke me harder. His other hand tugged roughly at my hair as I felt teeth nip down on my core.
“Sotet démonom.”
I screamed. My climax hit me so hard, my vision went black.
Lightning zapped, energy crackling the air.
I had a vision of us fucking on the battlefield, surrounded by the smell of blood, dirt, and death. We strolled across a field together, side by side, covered in gore, dead bodies strewn around us. Cries of war rang around us while we were still under the spray of the shower. It was brief but vivid in color and detail.
“Fuuuuccckk!” I heard him roar, his hot cum spurting inside me, carving his signature even deeper into my bones, waking something deep within me. This time I could feel the tentacles that linked us wrapping and coiling around me, knitting us back together as he filled me.
“Life connects you, but death binds you.”
It took us several minutes to come back to ourselves, the thrumming of his energy around me growing stronger. Not quite where it was before, but there was no denying it now—our connection was back.
Slowly, I lifted my lashes and found him staring at me, both of us heaving and gasping. His expression was unreadable, but I could sense the emotion underneath. To my shock, it wasn’t resentment or anger.
It was relief.
Serenity.
He watched me for another beat, as if he was making sure the bond was really there again, before he grabbed my face, kissing me so deeply and passionately, he shredded through any strength I had left.
Pulling out of me, he lowered me onto my shaky legs. The sensation of him leaving my body made me gasp for air. As if he were my barrier, my wall of defense, his body my shield from the pain. The moment he slipped out, the pain and agony attacked.
Pictures of my uncle, stretching from when I was a small child to seeing his scorched face, flashed in my head. The lost connection was excruciating. His raw voice and pleading eyes begging me to end his life punched me in the gut. Without me coming back into his life, he and Ling would still be alive. Happy. Together.
The grief hit me like a train, knocking the oxygen from my lungs. A howl struck my heart, emotion clobbering me under its force. Warwick didn’t speak, only drew me to his warm chest, his arms engulfing me, keeping me on my feet. My frame shook with sobs, sinking beneath the guilt and anguish.
Losing Andris was losing my father all over again. I may have found a blood uncle and a mother, but they were practically strangers to me. Andris was my family. He’d been there on my birthdays, every holiday, even when I lost my first tooth. He played games with me and bandaged me when I got hurt. My dad, Andris, and Rita were my security growing up. Those I trusted and turned to.