Defy the Void Read online

  Keaton gave me another long look. My skin crawled under such a knowing gaze. It was like he could see through any bullshit I might have had for him. Except it wasn’t bullshit, and he must have known that too.

  “Babes,” he said. “Sex doesn’t feel like that most of the time.”

  I swallowed, looking away. My grip on the sheets loosened slightly. “Oh.”

  “And as for my history, fuck it.” He flicked a dismissive wrist. “They’re nobody. They’re certainly not my wife. Whatever happened, happened.” The corner of his lip flickered up. “You saying you’re jealous?”

  “What? No. Why would I be jealous? I’m asking you a-a rational question.” I moved so I was lying back down. His arm crawled over my waist, tugging me to him. “I just, you know, want to learn. Especially since we’re going to be expected to consummate every week. And I just, I was curious because –”

  “You talk too much,” Keaton drawled as he kissed the side of my throat.

  I closed my eyes, trying to formulate a witty response. Instead, all I could muster was a “hmm.”

  The hand at my waist dipped between my thighs until his fingers slid across my clit.

  “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he said. “You like when I talk like that, don’t you? You like that all I wanna do is possess you. That I’d go green with envy at the thought of anyone but me touching you. Just lookin’ at you is too much.” His hardness scraped my backside. “You’re mine. You belong to me. Say it. I wanna hear you say it.”

  I twisted my torso and his other arm snaked underneath me so his fingers could caress my nipple. “I’m yours.”

  “Fuck yeah, you are.” He pulled his fingers from my clit and lifted them so they touched my lips. “No one else is gonna get you this fucking wet, little girl. No one. You hear me. Taste it. Taste yourself.”

  I opened my mouth and he pushed his finger inside of me. I wrapped my tongue around the digit, tasting the citrusy blend of his pleasure coated in my desire. I moaned before I could stop myself, before I could understand the implications of what that pleasure meant.

  “You like it,” he said, almost surprised by this. “You fucking like it. Jesus Christ.”

  He released my breast, and with both hands, grabbed my hips, positioning me against him. Once he was satisfied, he grabbed my top leg and opened it so it tangled with his before using his hand to direct his cock inside of me.

  Already, it was too much. He filled me up tighter than before. My muscles hurt from doing it earlier, but I couldn’t stop him. I didn’t want to. It felt right, having him inside of me. His tip hit my walls at exactly the right spot.

  “Fuck, you’re so tight. You’re so goddamn wet. All for me. It’s all for me.”

  “Yours,” I breathed out again. He seemed to like it before, liked when I told him as much.

  “Fuck.” He moved in and out of me, slow to start at first. Then, he began to build up. His thrusting got frantic. He muttered things under his breath, possessive filthy things I never would have imagined myself.

  But it didn’t matter because anything he said turned me on, crawled across my skin, buried itself deep inside of me. I wanted him to do all those things he promised. I wanted to feel him in any way he would give it to me.

  His breathing turned rapid. His breath consumed the back of my neck. My hips were bruised from before; now I was sure they’d be dotted and hurting after this.

  “You better come, babes,” he managed to get out. “I’m going to come soon, and I –” He cut himself off to moan my name. “Kara.”

  I hadn’t realized my own pleasure was building up until the sound that came from him. So helpless. So filled with ecstasy. I didn’t think I could ever associate whimpering or any other sound of vulnerability with Keaton, but that was what he sounded like, and it completely shattered me.

  I came undone, strip by strip, layer by layer, letting him have all I had to offer. And he gave just as much as he received. He moved fluidly inside of me, over and over again. He didn’t stop until he knew I was done, until my orgasm was completed, and even then, he pushed inside of me slowly, and one more time for good measure.

  At this point, I was too sensitive for anything else. I might have pushed him off of me, but I didn’t want to.

  Keaton said nothing. Instead, he gentled his touch and brought me closer to him so he could wrap himself around me. It surprised me to think someone like Keaton wanted to cuddle, but I didn’t mention it because I didn’t want to scare him off. I liked having him this way. It made me feel warm and safe and protected.

  “You okay, babes?” He genuinely sounded concerned, as though he was worried he had hurt me in the heat of his passion.

  I made a noise of contentment, closing my eyes. “I think you marked all of my skin in some way or another,” I said.

  Keaton brushed his lips against my shoulder. “Fucking good,” he said. “That way, everyone’ll know you belong to me. They won’t dare to fucking touch you.”

  “Why are you so worried about that?” I asked, trying to understand. I began to drag my fingers across his wrist, enjoying caressing him. Enjoying the fact that I got to do this while no one else did.

  “What do you mean?”

  I snorted without meaning to. “You think we’re going to step outside and there are going to be guys lined up around the block, trying to fight you in order to get with me,” I said. “Stop being ridiculous.”

  “Stop being naive.” His words were form, almost a growl. “They won’t just fight me, they’ll kill me.”

  “Because I’m human.” Suddenly, I realized why Keaton was so possessive. It had nothing to do with the fact that he cared about me and everything to do with what I was. What I could offer.

  Keaton grunted but didn’t respond. I shouldn’t be upset. This wasn’t a marriage of love. The fact that we were somehow working together and being civil was nothing more than a miracle.

  But for some reason, it still hurt. Knowing he would never love me for who I was depressed me. Because I wanted it. And maybe I should have thought of that before marrying a heathen, known to care more about themselves than anything else. I was too consumed with Richard to give any thought about that.

  But now?

  Now I was worried I was starting to feel things for Keaton, things I shouldn’t, and I highly doubted he would ever feel that way about me.

  Chapter Eight

  The next morning, I woke up to the sizzling sound of bacon and the strong scent of fried peppers. My stomach rumbled. It was like I completely forgot I was hungry. I wasn’t sure if this was an effect of being in the Void or if it was an effect of being so consumed with Keaton.

  I rolled over, trying to keep the flush from my face. It still boggled my mind that I would like something like him touch me the way that he did last night. Even now, thinking about it, my pelvis pulsed with desire. I could feel his release leaking out from me and I realized I would need to clean myself up soon. Part of me wanted to keep him inside of me for as long as I could. I like the thought of him possessing me in a way nobody else had. Claiming me in a way nobody else had.

  Immediately, I shook my head. I was starting to sound just like him, and I didn’t think that was a good thing. I needed to keep my head or else there was a good chance I was going to get swept away by something that couldn’t love me back.

  Not that I loved Keaton.

  No.

  Love was too strong of a word.

  But there was something there that even I couldn’t deny. It probably had to do with the fact that I liked being intimate with him, despite the filthy things he whispered in my ear, despite how rough he could be.

  Or maybe it was because of them.

  I threw my legs over the bed and forced myself to stand. I had to clutch the edge of the bed to keep my balance steady only because my legs immediately wanted to give out. I held myself up, now feeling the throb between my legs because I was awake. More moisture trickled out of me, and my cheeks warmed at what it was. There was something surprisingly eroctic about his seed on my thigh from last night, like he could still mark me even though he wasn’t even in the same room as I was.

  I cleared my throat, scratching the back of my head. I began to make my way to the wardrobe, slow to take each step so I could maintain my balance. By the time I reached it, I was more awake than I had been. I threw open the door and pulled on some clothes – nothing fancy: a t-shirt, a sweater, and some jeans. From there, I gave my body a full stretch and headed out into the living room.

  My mouth dropped open the second I saw Keaton in the kitchen, cooking.

  He was actually cooking.

  I didn’t think he knew how to do that. Or that he would even want to.

  He hadn’t seen me yet, which I took full advantage of. He was hunched over the stove, eyeing the eggs he seemed to be scrambling, as though he wasn’t sure what to do with them now that they were cooked. A cigarette dangled from his lips. His blond hair was wild from sleep and his green eyes were focused on the task.

  He wore a plain shirt and slacks, fitting to his body, though not a perfect fit by any stretch. I knew he had money. He was well-taken care of. I didn’t understand why he couldn’t purchase clothes that fit him.

  Not that it mattered.

  Even in what he wore, there was something enticing about him. I couldn’t explain it. I knew he wasn’t traditionally handsome. There was something wild about him, something otherworldly that left me intimidated to be in his presence. He also had a ruthless reputation. The same hands that brought so much pleasure and coaxed things out of me I could never do for myself were the same hands that were able to snuff out life with the flick of a wrist, without hesitation.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

  I didn’t know what that said about me.

  But even I couldn’t help myself. I was attracted to him. There was something primal in me that stirred when I saw him, something that said Mine, mine, mine over and over again.

  And it scared me. Because I was supposed to be scared of him and I wasn’t.

  Which just made me even more of an idiot than I thought I could be.

  “You got somethin’ to say, babes?” He didn’t even look at me, and somehow, he was able to speak clearly, even with that cigarette dangling from his lips.

  “Uh, only that I didn’t know you knew how to cook.” I stepped into the kitchen to watch him more closely. There was no point in hiding now that he knew I was there.

  He shrugged. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

  I quirked a brow but didn’t comment. He wasn’t wrong.

  He turned off the burners and plated the food. My stomach rumbled again, and his lips lifted into a smirk.

  “Built up quite an appetite, haven’t ya?” He gave me a knowing wink before setting my plate down in front of me.

  “What about you?” I asked as he proceeded to take the pan and put it in the sink. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  “Nah.” He scrunched his nose. “I don’t have to. Being dead and all. But I’m not much of a breakfast person.”

  I stabbed a bunch of cheesy eggs to my fork. “You’re missing out,” I said.

  I took a bite and Keaton plopped in the seat across from me, eyes on my face. There was nothing intense about his gaze, not really, but the fact that he was openly staring was enough for me to look down at my food, a blush lining my cheeks.

  “God, babes, you are so easy,” he said. “All I have to do is look at you and you turn red.”

  I ignored him. “What are we doing today?” I asked. Suddenly, any nervousness around him disappeared. “Are we going to look into that lead you found with my brother?” I couldn’t keep the enthusiastic hope out of my voice if I tried. “Before we went back to my realm, you said you found something, and –”

  “I know what I said.” He scowled, kicking his feet onto the table. He pursed his lips together, dotting his shirt with ash. “Look, babes, I don’t know if you coming with me is a good idea.” I opened my mouth, ready to tell him that that wasn’t fair, but he held up a hand to stop me. “Look. You’re mine now, kay? Which means you have to listen to me, whether you like it or not.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember the vows said anything about obeying you,” I snapped before shoving a bite of bacon in my mouth.

  “Maybe I should drag you back to bed,” he said. “You’re so good at obeying me there.”

  Again, my face turned pink and I had to look down at my food.

  He laughed. “You know what I love about you,” he said. I snapped my head up, surprised he would be so open with a word like love since he was Keaton and I didn’t think he even knew what the word meant much less how to apply it to someone else. “I can still make you blush despite all the dirty things we’ve done together. You know, babes. That’s only the beginning, right? There’s so much I could show you. So much I could make you feel. I have so many fucking plans for us.” Somehow, his voice had dropped, taken on an edge. There was something gritty about his words, territorial and raw, and I couldn’t help my eyes as they scanned his face, seeing nothing but promise in return.

  “I can smell you, you know,” he continued, leaning forward. Despite the table between us, he had this uncanny ability to take up space, to fill it up so I was left cornered and pinned. “I can smell your desire for me. I can smell me oozing out of that slick, hot cunt. Just another way to show you’re mine.”

  “As if you’d let me forget,” I said before I could stop myself.

  His eyebrows shot up, surprised by my response. Then, his lips splayed out and he smirked. “Damn straight,” he said. “What say I fuck you on this table, hmm? I could eat that, satiate my appetite. Drink the nectar from your tight little pussy.”

  My mouth went dry at the thought. Having sex on the dining table? Was that even –

  Why was my pelvis throbbing at the thought?

  “I wonder what you taste like in the morning, hmm? Should we find out?” He popped out of his seat and reappeared behind me, arms wrapping around my body.

  I was nearly finished with my food, but suddenly, eating didn’t seem like much of a priority anymore.

  His fingers slid between the sweatshirt, skimming across my collarbone, my skin. I expected him to head straight for my breasts, but he didn’t. Instead, he took his time, touching me. The feel of his rough skin across my own created friction that sizzled across my skin.

  His tongue shocked me by sliding down the column of my throat. I jumped this time, and Keaton chuckled, lips vibrating against my skin, shooting tiny little arrows of desire straight to my core. I didn’t understand how he had such an effect on me. I had barely woken up. I filled my stomach with food. And already he desired me. Was this normal? Did all guys feel this way? Or was it something strictly Keaton?

  “Tell me,” he murmured, mouth still on my skin. His teeth grazed the junction where my neck met my shoulder, and my eyes rolled back. My head dropped so it hit his shoulder, somehow available to me even with a chair between us. “Tell me you want me to fuck you on this table. Tell me you want me to eat you out like a goddamn meal before you squirt your juices all over my face. I want to hear you say it.”

  His fingers ghosted over the tops of my breasts. My back arched up slightly, as though I could somehow get him to touch me where I wanted him to.

  Where I needed him to.

  How did he have such power over me?

  I was pathetic.

  I wasn’t the strong girl I used to think I was. I was a mewling kitten, wanting attention. Wanting his attention.

  “Fuck, you want it too.” I didn’t think it was possible, but somehow, his voice got lower. It was almost a growl. “You pretend to be fucking shy, but you’re a filthy slut, aren’t you?”

  I opened my mouth. I should be shocked by the cruel moniker he labeled me with.

  But I wasn’t.

  I liked it.

  Fuck, I liked it, and I hated that I did.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  Before I could respond, before I could even think of what I could say to that, a firm knock interrupted us. I wasn’t sure whether I was pleased by this or upset.

  It was enough to instantly put me off having sex with Keaton right at this moment, however. Even though the thought of doing it on the table was an intriguing possibility.

  “Who the fuck dares knock on my door and interrupt me?” Keaton muttered under his breath as he freed his hands from under my sweater. “Fucking kill ‘em.”

  He would too. I believed it.

  I shot up to my feet and followed him into the living room just as he opened the door.

  “Keaton?” a man drawled. From where I stood, I noticed he had a black uniform with a gold crown as a sigil. Other than that, I couldn’t see anything else distinctive. “You and your human are to be escorted to the Palace. The Prince demands an audience with you both. Immediately.”

  Chapter Nine

  I stiffened. The Prince? Suddenly, I remembered when I was here alone, without Keaton. I remembered the knock, the distinct voice of someone trying to beckon me to let him in. Without quite knowing what I was doing, I found myself moving closer to Keaton, as though being around him was enough to protect me from whatever this Prince might want.

  At least if we had to go, Keaton was summoned too. I wouldn’t be alone.

  “And if I say no?” Keaton drawled, glancing down at his fingernails as though being summoned by the Prince of the Void was no big deal.

  Part of me wanted to throttle him. How could he be this nonchalant?

  “You already know the penalty,” the man said. “But your bride does not. Shall she be punished for your insolence?”