MATIC


    Katherine took a slow step backward, her breath shallow, eyes flicking between me and the dark clouds raging around us. Panic clung to her, thick and sweet. She was calculating an escape, but there was none. No matter how fast or how far, I was free and I had a score to settle.


    The last remaining witch shot her a quick, desperate glance, cursing under her breath before refocusing on me.


    I smiled—cold and deliberate—and whispered to the shadows curling around my feet and body. "Fetch."


    The darkness slithered forward like eager hounds, rippling across the ground toward Katherine as she turned and bolted. Just before the shadows could reach them, the witch vanished into thin air, leaving Viola alone.


    Coward.


    The shadows didn’t hesitate. Tendrils shot forward, snagging Viola’s ankle just as she sprinted toward the tree line. She hit the ground hard with a sharp gasp, grass and dirt scraping her skin as the darkness dragged her back toward me.


    “No. No. No… please, no!” Her voice cracked with desperation, every word choked and raw. She thrashed wildly, kicking against the shadows’ grip, her hands clawing at the earth in a futile attempt to break free. As if the ground itself might save her but it was useless. Everything she did was useless, and the truth of it only seemed to deepen her panic.


    Her heartbeat thundered in her chest, rapid and erratic, each frantic beat drumming with fear. I could feel it in the air, vibrating between us like a warning.


    “Katherine…” I said, my voice cutting through the chaos like a blade, sharp and deliberate.


    “Stop calling me that!” she shrieked, her voice cracking.


    As the last word left her tongue, everything stilled. The wind died. The storm held its breath. Even the forest seemed to pause, as I watched the shadows constrict around her limbs, slithering tighter and dragging her inexorably closer toward me—into the inevitable.


    When she lay at my feet, I crouched beside her trembling form. The shadows pinned her to the earth as she thrashed helplessly beneath their grip.


    “The witches were right about you,” Her breath came in short, desperate gasps, her chest heaving as she tried to steady herself.


    “What did they say?”


    “Destruction walking,” she whispered, lying on her back. “Devastation in flesh... a harbinger of ruin.” The words tumbled from her lips, sharp and breathless, like curses she couldn’t stop herself from saying.


    “Only to those who deserve it.”


    Katherine shook her head frantically. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t trap you. I freed you…” Her voice wavered, trembling under the weight of panic.


    Her wide, terrified eyes darted everywhere—searching for an escape, for hope, as if locking eyes with me would seal her fate. Force her to confront the truth of what she’d done to me. Or maybe she thought pretending not to notice my nakedness might offer her a sliver of safety.


    Maybe it would do both.


    I leaned in closer, a dark smile tugging at my lips as I watched her crumble. Her entire body trembled, a violent shiver that racked her frame.  Her lips quivered with barely contained terror as she squeezed her eyes shut.


    Once upon a time, Katherine had been lovely—and mine.


    Long ago, she had needed me, wanted me like the very air that filled her lungs. A flicker of that memory stirred in me now, unwanted and irritatingly familiar, like the ghost of a sensation. But that was before the lies, before the betrayal that had torn us apart.


    “Go on,” I whispered, voice low and taunting, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. My hand lingered a moment too long, my fingers tracing the edge of her cheek as though the touch might spark something that no longer existed.


    “Scream. Cry. Do whatever you think will save you.”


    "I want to go home," Katherine murmured, her voice small, trembling beneath my hand.


    Her scent—jasmine and vanilla—once delicate and lovely, was now soured by sweat and terror. It was still there, that faint echo of who she had been... but something was missing. This body, the face, this version of her—it wasn’t Katherine. Not entirely.


    When I had her pinned against the tree, she’d insisted she wasn’t Katherine. Maybe she believed that. Maybe she even wanted it to be true. But the writing on the wall told a different story.


    I trailed a finger slowly down her cheek, savoring the way her breath hitched beneath my touch. Her pulse hammered beneath her skin, erratic and desperate, each beat a plea for mercy. Her skin burned under my fingertips—hot, slick with sweat, trembling as if she might unravel at any second.


    When I was trapped—days, weeks, centuries—I drowned in her memory. Sleep never came. Dreams never offered relief. Only endless screams of her name, raw and jagged, until my voice gave out. Over and over, I thought about what I would do if I ever got out.


    Fuck her.


    Kill her.


    Consume her.


    Each thought circled endlessly, an unrelenting loop of pain, betrayal, and need. Every memory sharpened into a weapon I wielded against myself, replaying the last seconds of our time together, twisting them until nothing made sense.


    But one truth remained.


    I needed her—more than I wanted her and it was all driven by the centuries of torment I’d endured. It gnawed at me, an insatiable hunger clawing through my soul, as vital as breath, as dangerous as the desire to drown.


    A twisted, inescapable need that couldn’t be denied.


    And I wanted it all. Every piece of her—mind, body, soul.


    I let my hand drift lower, tracing the line of her collarbone, savoring the heat beneath her skin, the tremor running through her.


    And that’s when it happened.


    The air around us shifted—abrupt, violent—a sharp pull yanked at every nerve in my body. Reality twisted inward in jagged folds, as if the world was collapsing in on itself. The ground vanished beneath my feet, and for a brief, disorienting moment, there was nothing.


    No storm. No forest. No sense of direction—just a crushing weight, pulling me through space and before I could react, the world snapped back into place with a jarring finality.


    The realization hit me almost immediately, that Katherine teleported us somewhere else…Yet she claimed she was not her.


    Behind me, she was now on all fours, her body wracked with tremors. She gasped for breath, then doubled over, dry heaving but nothing coming up.


    The room was cramped and suffocating, cluttered with strange objects beyond my understanding. A worn sofa slouched against one wall, and a bookshelf leaned under the weight of old tomes, candles and trinkets.


    Across the room, a small kitchen was crammed into the corner—or at least, what I assumed was a kitchen. There were peculiar items, along with plates and cups scattered across the surface of a long, flat table built into the wall.


    Katherine brought us here—this place she thought was safe, a desperate attempt to escape me. But I was touching her when she teleported. Surely, that shouldn’t have happened. Shouldn’t her magik have shielded me? Kept me from following?


    Unless… She really wasn’t my wife.


    I inhaled slowly, dragging the stale air deep into my lungs. My ribs ached with the strain, and the magik inside me stirred sluggishly, like embers in a dying fire. Weak, yes—but not extinguished as I proved earlier, after dealing with those witches and warlock.


    Exhaling through my nose, I let the spell take shape on my breath, ancient words slipping past my lips in a low, deliberate murmur. “Nemo nos inveniet. Nullus oculus nos videat.”


    The spell felt like stretching a thread too thin, barely enough to mask us. The protection spell wouldn’t last long—a few days, at best. But for now, it would have to do.


    The room shuddered under the weight of the incantation. Shadows thickened, curling along the edges of the walls, and a faint hum vibrated through the building, like the fading resonance of a distant bell. I pressed my palm to the floor, sending the magik outward in ripples, spreading it through the foundation of this strange little structure.


    It wasn’t much—a barrier to cloak us for a time, to keep curious eyes and hunters at bay. But it would have to do.


    My power flickered, weaker than I’d intended. But I held it steady, forcing it to stretch thin across the walls, the windows, under the door and expand to all the corners and cracks of this structure. I clenched my teeth, sweat gathering at the nape of my neck.


    I straightened slowly, feeling the spell lock into place. Escaping me was no simple feat—nor would it be for those who hunted me.


    A slow breath escaped my lips, weariness dragging at my limbs like lead weights. The shadows coiled back into the walls, and the hum of magik faded, leaving behind only the quiet weight of exhaustion, pressing down on me like a reminder of how far I’d fallen.


    Behind me, Katherine struggled to stand as well, her legs trembled beneath her. However, she lunged toward a vase on the nightstand. She gripped it with both hands, holding it out like a weapon.


    Pathetic.


    She was weak, and we both knew it.Stolen novel; please report.


    "Leave," she demanded, her voice hoarse but determined. "The door is right behind you, or I''ll scream, and my neighbors will call the cops."


    I ignored her threat and stepped closer. “Where are we?”


    A vase. Of all the things she could use to defend herself in this cramped little space. I had commanded armies, led men into battle, and earned the loyalty of vampyrs, witches, demons, and lycans alike.


    And now, I stood before a woman clutching a vase as her only weapon.


    When Katherine didn’t respond quickly enough, I moved—faster than her eyes could track—and appeared in front of her. I shouldn’t have done that.


    The strain hit me immediately, a sharp hunger coiling in my gut. Speed always came at a price and it was worse considering that I’d burned my energy on the witches earlier. They had left me running on fumes.


    However, I couldn’t slow down. Couldn’t stop. The ones hunting me wouldn’t wait. And I couldn’t afford weakness. Not now.


    With a flick of my wrist, the vase flew from her hand, shattering on the floor in a sharp, final crash that echoed through the cramped room.


    I could have ended her right here, right now—just like I should have in the forest. The desire was there, coiled tight inside me, waiting to strike. But something held me back. Something irritatingly familiar... and I hated that I let it stop me.


    I kept walking, slow and deliberate, herding Katherine back until she hit the wall. On one side of her was the flat surface that extended from the wall. It was littered with an assortment of cups and plates. On her other side was the bookshelf.


    My gaze stayed locked on hers as I closed the distance between us. “Where. Are. We?”


    Her breath hitched with nowhere left to go. "We’re... we’re in my home."


    I narrowed my eyes, scanning the room. “This isn’t a home. It’s too small. A closet at best. Servants’ quarters.”


    She glared at me, fire flickering in her gaze despite the fear radiating off her in waves. “Well, this is all I can afford, your majesty.”


    I raised my hand, instinctively reaching for her neck. She flinched, shrinking back, and I knew one twist would end it all. Yet again, there it was again, something in me pulled back—it reeked of weakness.


    Memories stirred from a lifetime ago when I commanded estates, wealth, and loyalty—land that stretched as far as the eye could see.


    What had become of it all?


    Of my family and friends?


    A low, frustrated growl rumbled in my throat. I clenched my teeth, irritated with myself.


    Viola’s breath caught, her body tensing as my hand hovered, inches from her neck. I lingered there, my hand near her face for a moment too long. Everything I had built was nothing more than dust and memory.


    Dropping my hand, I asked. “What year is it?”


    Tears fell from the corner of her eyes, as she leaned her head back against the wall, breathing deeply as if trying to steady herself. “It’s 2024.”


    The number hit me like a fist to the chest. Five centuries.


    I stumbled back from her, muttering, “For the love of Aisha,” the word slipping from my lips before I could stop it.


    Her wide, fearful eyes locked onto me, now studying my every move with laser focus. I could hear her heart stuttering in her chest—a panicked, uneven rhythm, like a drumbeat on the verge of collapse.


    Then she spoke, cautiously. “How long... how long were you trapped?”


    The words slid between us like a knife, and her face paled as soon as she realized her mistake.


    My lips peeled back, exposing fangs as a growl rumbled deep in my chest, vibrating through the space between us.


    Viola''s breath caught, her chest rising sharply as those dark eyes widened. Her hands flew up in surrender and I could taste her fear on the air, sweet and sharp.


    “Wait,” she said, her voice fast and shaky, “Before you put your hands on me again—listen. For the hundredth time, I am not Katherine. I am Viola Bennett and I did not trap you.”


    I didn’t provide an immediate answer, and she continued. “You really need to hear me,” Desperation laced her words. “I freed you, but I am not her.”


    “Why would you do that?” If she wasn’t Katherine, why had she freed me?


    Viola shrugged and answered. “I don’t know. Yesterday, I started seeing visions of you—and hearing words, in Latin chanting. I didn’t know what they meant…” She paused, chewing on her bottom lip.


    I asked, “How do you not understand Latin? Yet you freed me.”


    She shook her head, “That’s my point. I barely practice magik, so I’m not that well versed. However, I listened to my intuition, and it led me to Phantombrook. To that library.”


    Her voice faltered, panic creeping into her tone as memories resurfaced. “Next thing I know, there’s a secret staircase, and—” She sucked in a sharp breath as the weight of it all crashed down on her. “Oh, God... the bodies. Those witches. You killed them...”


    “They were trying to kill me—and you, I might add.”


    “Because…” She hesitated, as if the truth were poison on her tongue. “You came after us...” The words slipped from her lips like they hurt to say aloud.


    I tilted my head, my gaze locked on hers. “Not in the chamber. The first Warlock had attacked me.”


    “You only saved me because, you…” She paused, focus shifting to the side.


    “Say it,” I taunted.


    “You wanted to be the one to—” Her voice cracked, unable to say the words, and I could feel her fear pulse in the space between us. It clung to her skin like dew, thick and suffocating.


    I chuckled, the sound low, dark, and full of menace. “To kill you myself.” I leaned in closer, my breath warm against her ear. “Fuck you raw until your throat gave out. Drain you dry until your flesh begged for release.”


    The moment the last word left my lips, Viola slapped me across the face. The slap stung—not from pain, but from the sheer audacity of it. My head turned slightly with the blow, more out of surprise than anything else


    Sweet defiance.


    Viola twisted, trying to free herself from where she was wedged between me and the wall, but I grabbed her face, pulling her toward me.


    "Let me go!" she hissed, defiance burning in her eyes. When I didn’t listen, she spat, "Fuck off."


    My gaze lingered on those lips—soft, trembling, spitting venom. But despair hung on her breath, sharp and heady, a scent that coiled around me like a drug. It was intoxicating, stirring the embers of fire still burning from the forest.


    A low, primal growl vibrated in my chest, unbidden and relentless. The memory of her body pinned against the rough bark surged through me—her frantic struggles, the way her hips writhed in defiance. My cock had hardened against her, grinding into the softness of her curves, the heat of her resistance only stoking the hunger clawing at me—a ravenous, consuming need to claim her entirely.


    I had no hesitation—no shame—about fucking my wife against that tree, claiming her where she couldn’t escape, couldn’t hide. The feel of her struggling beneath me sent another wave of raw, lust coursing through me, reigniting the need I had barely kept restrained.


    She had locked me away for centuries—I deserved this. Her body, her screams, the tight heat of her cunt wrapped around my cock. I deserved every inch of her.


    “Help m—” she tried to scream, but I silenced her with a brutal kiss, crushing my mouth against hers. It wasn’t a kiss of affection but of domination, of possession.


    My lips claimed her, devoured her.


    My tongue forced past her lips with relentless hunger. My body pressed harder against hers, pinning her completely, as if my very presence could consume her whole.


    I wanted her to drown in it—feel me, taste me—until there was nothing left but us. Nothing but the heat that once was.


    Katherine thrashed against me, her hands shoving at my chest, her palm smacking against my skin—once, twice—sharp, desperate slaps that only drove my arousal higher. Every strike sent a pulsing wave straight to my cock, hardening even further until the pressure became almost unbearable. It strained against my skin, desperate for release—aching for a catalyst.


    But then her teeth sank into my bottom lip, sharp and punishing, tearing through the haze. Pain flared hot, the metallic taste of my own blood pooling between our mouths. The bite was feral, defiant.


    I pulled back, my blood streaking her lips, and cupped her face roughly, forcing her to meet my gaze. “How long has it been?” I demanded, my voice a low growl, cutting through the heavy silence between us. “When was the last time someone fucked you, Ljubi?”


    Her lips parted, but no answer came. Her defiance was written in the set of her jaw, the trembling tension in her shoulders. My thumb traced the edge of her bottom lip, smearing the blood there before slipping between her lips.


    “Suck it,” I commanded, pressing in, just enough to make it clear resistance wasn’t an option. “Now.”


    Her hesitation was delicious, and I waited, the weight of my command lingering in the charged air between us.


    Then, her lips closed around my thumb. Warmth enveloped me, and for a moment, the world narrowed to the delicate pressure of her mouth. Her tongue brushed against my skin, tentative at first, then deliberate, tracing the edge of my thumb.


    The defiance I had anticipated was still there, but beneath it burned something else—almost confidence, as if she were reclaiming control in this twisted game. Her tongue swirled again, deliberate and slow, and my breath hitched, the raw hunger inside me throbbing and fucking aching.


    “It’s been too fucking long,” I groaned, the words spilling from me unbidden, and then her hand moved.


    Katherine—no, Viola—reached out, her fingers brushing against my hardness. Instinctively, I withdrew my thumb from her mouth and it shot down to grab her wrist.


    “You must have been so lonely,” She murmured, as my hold was firm, a warning. Though her voice was soft, teasing—a dangerous melody that threaded through the heavy air between us. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”


    I studied the woman before me, knowing that I could care less that I was covered in the blood of my enemies. I would have fucked her on the ground of the forest while still conquireing my demons to destory them all.


    Her other hand wove through my hair, fingers threading with deliberate intent, and she clasped the back of my neck. Rising onto the tips of her toes, the woman kissed me—a calculated move that I knew all too well. Whether Katherine or Viola, my body didn’t know the difference.


    It betrayed me, responding instantly as her lips pressed against mine. Her tongue darted out, tracing the curve of my bottom lip with teasing precision, igniting a spark that rippled through me. Her touch was soft, beguiling, but beneath it was a clear purpose—a distraction wrapped in temptation.


    Images. Memories splintered through my mind of a time now long past and my hand faltered, the grip on her wrist loosening as her lips moved more urgently against mine. She didn’t waste a second. Her hand slid down, grasping my cock and resumed her deliberate strokes.


    Fuck.


    A low growl as the sensation shot through me like a spark igniting dry tinder.


    “I’ll make it up to you,” she whispered against my lips, her voice a seductive murmur, a promise wrapped in deceit.


    Nevertheless, knowing her angle, I couldn’t stop my hips from thrusting against her palm, damning myself further, feeding the insatiable hunger clawing at my core. I should have ended it, should have crushed her little game—but instead, I let her play.


    I deepened the kiss, and Viola moaned softly, the sound slipping past her lips like a siren’s call. It was faint, almost hesitant, but it surged through me with feral heat, consuming reason.


    Suddenly, a metallic clanking echoed in the room, sharp and jarring. My head snapped toward the door, muscles coiling, instincts sharpening like a blade, ready to strike.


    The door swung open, and suddenly the room lit up. As if the sun itself had risen.


    A five-foot-nothing blonde stood there, wearing strange clothes, wide-eyed, caught between shock and horror.


    "Holy hell!" she yelped, frozen in place, her gaze sweeping over me.


    “Emery!” Viola shouted, her voice desperate. The sound of plates and cups crashing filled the room as she moved in my peripheral vision. I turned just in time to see her hand emerging from the pile of dishes, gripping the handle of a heavy metal pot.


    Before I could react, she swung toward me. The pot cracked against my skull, and I stumbled back, caught off guard by the strength behind the blow.


    My vision blurred from the force of the hit. Before I could regain my footing, another surge—stronger and more powerful—rushed through the room.


    A sudden, invisible force—untamed magik—slammed into my chest like a battering ram. The air around me felt solid, flinging me across the room. I smashed into the window, the glass rattling under the impact but refusing to shatter.


    Yet, I didn’t fall.


    Emery’s magic seized me, holding me midair like a puppet. I thrashed against the invisible force, but every ounce of strength had drained from me—my magik too weak. The witches, the escape, the hunger—it had all drained me, leaving me powerless and fucking aroused.


    The blonde sauntered toward me, her deep blue eyes cold and unblinking, regarding me like I was nothing more than an inconvenience. The invisible force around me constricted, crushing against my chest as I fought to break free, every attempt useless against the magik binding my form.


    Emery didn’t even flinch. She didn’t need to.


    Her eyes never left mine as she spoke over her shoulder to Viola, her voice sharp with authority. “Vee, you got some explaining to do or i’m going to toss this Vampyr off your balcony.”