And her name is…
Chapter eleven - Sinker

He joins me in the shower , soaking his clothes, but he doesn’t seem to care as he traces the holes of his teeth. If I turn, I can just barely see the outline of the first set beside the second. I don’t look at them again though, keeping my eyes on him.

Somehow, even as a prisoner, I know if I told him to stop he would. He isn’t like Kheliq who’s goal is to make make me beg him for him to stop. I don’ttrustWulfric, he is after all Sioga and has been complacent in my capture and torture for a half dozen years, but I know he’s at least a man who only acts with purpose. Him engaging with me might be fun, but it would serve no purpose like me giving them answers or blood does. He wouldn’t force me.

I don’t ask him to stop as he starts to pull loose the strings holding my remaining clothes on, but I do finally break eye contact with him and look down.

Like before, he grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. “What are you doing?”

I try again to look away. “Nothing.”

“Are you.. embarrassed?” His words make it sound like he finds the whole notion comical.

“Of course not!” I bite back, glaring at him.

“Then what is it?” He insists, and I don’t want to waste this drunk and high feeling on this conversation so I answer him.

“I must look disgusting,” my eyes drop again but he moves my chin accordingly. “There’s barely any life in my skin, and compared to the Sioga ladies upstairs.. I must look sickly.”

“You look like a survivor,” he whispers and this time I choose to look at him. “I didn’t think you would survive Kheliq’s treatment the first year, and when I found your cell empty I started laughing.” He gives me a cheeky smile, trailing his hand down to slip between my legs. “Being thick and full can be gained through security and comfort, but you can’t just gain the spirit of a survivor.”

“I didn’t want to be a survivor,” I mutter, “I liked my quite life.”

“I’m sorry.”

He keeps saying that, but I don’t want to hear that he’s sorry, I just want to forget why I’m here.

I hear the last piece of my clothing hit the floor and I feel wholly exposed and more vulnerable than I ever have curled in the fetal position during Kheliq’s questioning. Right now nothing matters except the ache between my legs. I bet the guards partying upstairs have a whole mess of girls to take care of their needs, but down here it’s just me -and him.

I move to soak my hair and retrieved the soap but in a second he’s pressing me against the cold stone. I can feel his hard length pressed against me and I don’t know if that’s something I can handle but it’s been so long that the itch to try is almost insufferable.

I start to groan as he pushes against me and I can feel his mouth smirk against my neck. His teeth have been rubbing over my skin like he isn’t sure if he wants to bite me again or not. He chuckles and pushed against me, grinding our hips together.

His eyes meet mine and I see the hunger there, and fuck it if I care that it’s only because of the wine. “Do you want to…?”

Before he can finish that sentence I press my mouth rouging against his. There’s no time to think, no time to consider, if all goes my way I’ll be out of here before I see Wulfric down here again. This is my chance to get my way with this beautifully dangerous man when he can’t hurt.

His hand wraps to grip my bony hip and my lips part to gasp. This spurs him on and he lifts me against the wall, helping me wrap my legs around him before his hands are roaming over the scars that cover my body. He feels those on my thighs I don’t even remember getting. They’re thick and raised making me guess it was from perhaps a belt, but some of those days blurred together so well I couldn’t say if it was Kheliq or one of the guards that caused them.

To his credit he doesn’t ask how they happened, and to mine I tear his shirt off without claws. I’m not sure if he’s surprised or upset by it because he doesn’t pull away from me after I make his shirt into a smock. His hands start to pull off what’s left of his shirt and my hands start to run over his skin. I have more scars, but he has his share, marring his chest and stomach, and my brow crinkles.

“What is it?” He whispers gently.

“Some of these scars are recent,” I return, noticing the ones that are small but bold against his skin, not yet faded by training topless in the sun.

But it’s more than that. I canfeelit.

He chuckles. “Yea, so?”

I meet his eyes. “You don’t drink my blood,” I discern, feeling each line with my finger tips like it’s brail and will tell me a story.

His eyes don’t widen for longer than a fraction of a second before he seems to understand how I drew that line and he shakes his head, flexing under my touch. “No, not usually. Once,-“ he points to one thick scar on his shoulder that looks like he almost lost the arm, “- I was unconscious and they didn’t give me the option to refuse.”

“Why refuse?” It’s barely a question. I don’t really care when it’s his inexperience with the affects of my affinity that let me draw him in so close.

His mouth moves to my ear, tugging on it with his teeth. “I don’t take anything from a woman that she didn’t freely give me.”

I feel a shiver run down my spine. “Are you always so chivalrous with…”

He stops my talking with his mouth on mine and honestly I’m glad for it. The assault is sudden and I find myself pressing my chest to his, my nipples rubbing against his bare chest.

He pulls away slightly to speak. “Enough talking, the only thing I want to hear from that mouth is ‘Yes’ or ‘No’.”

“Wha..,”

He tsks his tongue and smacks my hip. “Let’s try again.”

His lips move back to mine and he hums with an inflection, a question. “Yes,” I breathe before he returns to my ear and makes the sound again. “Yes,” I say the same way, but then I feel his teeth on my neck and I whimper, making him make the hummed sound louder. “No,” I croak.

“Good,” he returns.

He spins us under the water, soaking us and warming everything that was getting cold. I moaned with bliss, feel him growing harder, and the grind myself against him. He closes his eyes and I watch him forget himself for a minute, bringing a smile to my face.

“Yes,” I whisper.

His eyes open quickly and I start trying to push down his pants while still being wrapped around him. He leans me against the wall so he can help me push them down and before he can question me I angle him up into me.That itch, that ache, between my legs only gets worse as I try to moved him in deeper.

Wulfric groans with my movements, “this isn’t going to last nearly as long as I want it to.”

He doesn’t know the half of it.

He pulls me down on top of him and I squeak, trying to move him out a little while I adjust but his grip on my hips is firm. I wrap my arms around his neck and move my hands up into his hair. He curls his hips up into me and I moan languidly.

“Fuucckkkk,” I draw out, feeling like my eyes could roll back with just this much. “This is the longest dry spell I’ve ever had, and you fill me so…”

He growls. “Too-many-words, little mouse.” He pulls me up until he’s almost left me, and then down hard, rocking my hips on his length and I whimper . “Yes, or no?”

“Yes,” I whisper in his ear, pulling my self close to him so my chest rests on his collar bones and I’m holding his head tightly beside mine. “Yes, yes, ye…”

He starts moving faster, pulling me up and down against him, and I’m actually worried one or both of us will cum before getting to my bed. But he’s lasting, and I can feel the effort that’s taking him. My breaths are ragged in his ear as I hold on and I think I can feel his teeth touching the side of my neck.

“I need…” I start and hesitate.

“Tell me, what do you need?” He begs, and the sound of it is enough to make my guilt big enough to consider this a three way.

“A new angle… the bed..”

Before I’ve finished asking he’s walking with me still speared on him to my cell. I move up and down as we change locations and then he’s gently laying me down. His next strike is stronger than the others and I see stars of pleasure. I could actually come undone like this and I wonder if I will before…

The cot rocks as he slams into me again and it slides across the floor just enough. I feel white hot pain and Iscream.He pulls away quickly, confusion written over his face as he scans my body. I watch his eyes quickly find the piece of my bed frame that’s broken through my cot and stabbed through my side.

“Fuck,” he gasps, pulling out of me and I feel regret that neither of us will cum. ”If I pull it out you’ll bleed more.”

My hands fumble to the foreign object in my body and the surrounding area. He’s right, and I’m glad it got my side and not my stomach. The pain is unreal but I’m used to worse and I can breathe through it.

“Owe,” I say breathlessly, poking the area around the wooden pole. “That’ll..” I cough, stalling in hopes that he will speak more.

“What can I do?” He begs, touching my face as he kneels beside the wound. “You can take life energy right? You did it five years ago, take mine.” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the ꜰindNʘvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I make my eyes open wider. “Wulf…”

“He won’t send a healer,” he says suddenly. “He’s too worried the queen will find out. You will bleed out if you don’t.” His eyes look panicked as he looks over me and they lock with mine. “I won’t say anything about your affinity, I don’t care, just heal yourself.”

He moves and lifts me off the pike, making me scream loudly again. Then I’m in his lap and he’s cradling me while using my only blanket to slow the bleeding.

“I saw the fight, little mouse, and I found the dead plants, I know you can do this. You can’t die like this.” His voice sounds almost desperate but my head is swimming from alcohol and blood loss.

I try to reach for his face but my hand falls on top of his and I start to pull his energy to me. I always imagine it like pulling fibres to make linen; it needs to be steady and even. The pain is distracting but I can’t allow that to affect my pace, and if I pull to quickly I will knock him out or kill him. He can’t die now, not if I’m to escape tomorrow.

“Wulf,” I breathe through the effort and I close my eyes to focus.

“Yes?” The word is rough, and I worry that I’ve already taken too much.

“Squeeze my hand, I need to feel you physically or I could kill you.”

He does as I ask, squeezing my hand tightly and I continue to spin his fibres of life into mine. After a slow minute I release a breath and feel my skin knitting together like a scarf. I feel him pull the blanket away and watch.

“Wow,” he breathes. “You’re incredible, little mouse.”

I cough when the laugh hurts. “Why do you call me that?”

He doesn’t answer me, instead asking, “what’s your name?”

I consider how to answer, but Iwanthim to know. Before the rest, I want him to know my name. “Theo, Theodosine.”

“Theo,” he says softly.

I don’t know why I gave him my name like that. Only my friends call me Theo, but when you live your whole life in one place everyone was a friend. After six years of being called anything but my name, and what I have planned for tomorrow, anything could go wrong, and I just want to feel human one last time.

I feel his hold on my hand waver and I stop pulling on his energy.

“Is that all?” He asks, looking over my skin again.

I start to blush as I remember we’re both naked, sitting on the floor in my cell, covered in my blood. So I just nod, pushing on the area to check for residual pain and find a finger long sliver stuck to my skin that my body must have pushed out while it healed. I pick it up and observe it along with the blood soaked into the grain.

I chuckle ironically as he offers his hand to take it from me. “Why would a prisoner, expected to live and die in captivity, actively participate ensuring they live another day in it?”

I hope he doesn’t ask me why. I’ve done well to tread the line of not outright lying this far, most of the time, and I’d like to stick to that if I can. I close my eyes in thought, and I swear I feel him brush my forehead but don’t open my eyes to check.

He moves to stand and I feel him wobble. He let me take a lot of his energy but I didn’t think he would cover up his weakness to let me take more. But I say nothing about it, letting him stand with me and go back to the shower that we never turned off.

I’m surprised the water is still warm and he works to clean us up. Every thought I have drifts away with the seconds as I try to grab ahold of it, but I’m desperate to say something.

“I’ve never healed from an injury so bad before,” I say as he sits me in a chair by the water to wash my blood off his skin.

He kicks our soggy clothes away from the drain and takes a moment to stare at his blood stained hands before washing it away. “I’ve never held someone with such an injury and had them live,” he returns.

“I should have taken more,” I mutter, meaning to say it in my head but I’m nodding off.

I really should have taken more, from the looks of him he wouldn’t have minded.

“Are you not healed?”

I don’t answer, feeling the heavy weight of exhaustion bring my head forward. I took enough to heal, but not enough to replace the energy healing required. My chin hits my chest and then rocks to the side so my ear is on my shoulder. He’s speaking, but I don’t hear him. His words blend in with the patter of water until all that remains is sensation.

There are hands on me, rubbing over my skin as I sit, then there’s the gentle caress of water. I can feel a moan resonating in my throat but I’m not even trying to make it, it’s just a natural reaction to the feelings. The familiar feeling of the scratchy towel touches my skin and I try to open my eyes.

“Sleep,” someone says and my body is happy to oblige, pulling me under until the only thing left is a dream I won’t let myself remember in the morning. Not yet.

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