Page 41 of In Darkness We Claim

With his lips beside mine, he whispers so only I can hear him. “I want you to wear my cum until I tell you otherwise.”

Before I can say anything, he reaches down and grabs hold of me underneath my arms, dragging me upward until I find my footing. My legs are a little shaky from kneeling on the hard floor, and I’m not able to use my arms to stabilise myself, but Lawson keeps hold of me until he’s sure I’m not going to fall.

He then roughly spins me around until I’m facing the room, pulling my back against his front. He wraps his arm around my waist as he projects his voice loudly one last time. “Members of the Obsidian Order, may I present to you my Prize, Harper Westmore.”

The crowd cheers, just as they did with every other Prize presented to them. I try not to look at them, but it’s impossible to miss the way Ryan is glaring at me. He appears almost murderous, but I’m not sure if it’s directed at me or Lawson.

Sienna is beside him, shooting daggers at me as her gaze flicks between her boyfriend and me. Her face twists with anger and annoyance, and her hatred for me is clear to see, yet she cannot understand that I want nothing to do with Ryan. I belong to Lawson now, and even if I didn’t, Ryan hurt me enough that I’d never want to see him again.

As if to remind me that I belong to him, Lawson rocks against me, making sure I can feel how hard he is. A sharp breath slips from my lips as he presses his length against me, creating a need in me that I’ve never experienced before.

Lawson leans down until his lips are beside my ear, his breath tickling my cheek as he whispers, “You did good, sweetheart, but this is just the beginning. Now that you’re mine, I’m going to take you home and claim you in every way I can. I’m going to fill all your holes with my cum, until you say my name like you worship me. I’m going to make you my whore, and you’ll love it so much, you will beg me for more.”

Bloody hell! I want to argue with him, to tell him I’ll never beg him, the way I always have before, but I can feel my body betraying me. My nerves are prickling with the desperate need to feel his touch on my skin. My core aches, craving every wicked promise he makes. And I’m dripping wet, more than ready for him to make good on his promises.

But there’s another side of me that’s absolutely furious with him for the way he just used me and humiliated me. I knew he’d push me to show my loyalty to him, but I didn’t know he’d make me feel so cheap and dirty.

The biggest problem is that I didn’t hate that feeling as much as I should. I want to be mad at him, to scream at him for making me feel that way, but I can’t. I’m so confused by it all.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve pushed down all of my dark and dirty fantasies, keeping them hidden away, but now I don’t have to hide. Lawson wants to pull them from the shadows, to bring my body to life in ways I’ve only ever dreamed of, and I think I’m going to let him. After all, it’s not like I have a choice.

Idon’t know how Harper manages to walk out of the hall on her shaky legs, but I have a feeling my arm around her tiny, trembling body is the only thing keeping her upright. As soon as we’re outside, in the cool night air, she collapses to the floor.

Sobs wrack her body as the adrenaline from the evening seeps out of her, and all the confusing emotions I just put her through hit her at once. I hadn’t planned on fucking her throat, but when we stood on the stage, after I tattooed my name onto her skin, it was impossible to miss the look on my father’s face—he’d taken his mask off specifically to make sure I could see. He expected more, and I can’t let him down.

I never wanted to go that far with Harper in front of a room full of horny men. I don’t want anyone to see her that way other than me, but I needed to do something, and that was the least invasive thing I could think of.

My eyes never left hers throughout; the way her cheeks flushed as she warred with herself over whether she actually liked the way I spoke to her or not. She let out little gasps, her chest rising and falling faster as she got more turned on.

She wanted to hate me calling her a whore, but we both know she didn’t. I just have to teach her that it’s okay to follow her desires, her fantasies, as long as it’s with me.

I scoop Harper into my arms, her small body now nestled against my chest, and a sense of calm washes over me as she presses her face into my shirt, her arms still bound behind her back.

When we get to my car, I settle her into the passenger seat. She doesn’t ask me to untie her wrists—not that I would—but I secure her seatbelt before sliding into the driver’s side. I didn’t bring my bike, as I knew I’d be taking her home with me, and I didn’t think she’d be in any state to ride on my baby.

As I drive to Crowhurst House, her sobs slowly subside, and she settles into the seat, her knees pulled up to her chest as if she’s trying to comfort herself. Every so often, she’ll shuffle her arms, no doubt trying to alleviate the soreness in her shoulders and wrists, which are red and sore from the harsh zip-ties binding her. They aren’t my usual choice of restraint, but it’s tradition during the ceremony.

She’ll learn what type of restraints I like soon enough, I think, before chastising myself for thinking that while she’s crying on the seat beside me.

Luckily, Crowhurst House is empty, since most people are still at the Ceremony. Being High Crow Pledge gives me more freedom than the others, so nobody will question me leaving early.

I carry Harper through the house, relieved when she lets me pick her up after I’ve parked the car. As she’s stopped crying, I was worried she wouldn’t let me touch her, but she doesn’t put up a fight.

Shifting her weight onto one arm, I reach out and use my thumb to open the door to my room before closing it behind us once we’re inside. I carry her straight into my ensuite, sitting her on the counter next to the sink.

She’s still not said a word to me, but I’m more than a little relieved that her sobs have died down. I reach into my back pocket and pull out my flip knife, hating the way she gasps and moves away from me when she catches sight of the blade.

I grab the front of her dress, and she freezes when I move the knife closer to her. She’s barely breathing, afraid her chest moving will put her closer to the sharp metal.

As I shuffle my body closer, I knock her legs apart, spreading them wide enough to accommodate me standing between them. Her wide eyes are watching my every move, and she lets out a small gasp when I slide the blade under the hem of her dress.

Using my other hand, I pull the dress taut as I move the knife up to the neckline of her dress. I then use the blade to slice through the fabric, pulling at the damaged material until it falls apart, exposing her silky pale skin. It’s difficult to do with her hands still tied behind her back, but it’s not my first time.

Her arms being pulled backwards pushes her chest out, and her tits pop free, since she followed my instructions and didn’t wear a bra. I take a moment to appreciate how fucking good they look; the nipples peaked and ready for my attention.

After a few more cuts in just the right place, I pull all the tattered material off her body, throw it onto the floor and take a small step back, so I can admire her naked beauty.

With her legs spread to accommodate me, a thrilling heat ignites deep within me at the sight of my name tarnishing her perfect skin, sparking a possessive joy I’ve never felt before. It’s still visible beneath the clear plaster I applied at the ceremony, since I couldn’t bear to cover it so soon after etching it into her skin.