Sold to the Night Lord - Chapter 84: Chapter 84

I dig my nails into his hands—not that it hurts him—but he releases me anyway. My eyes sting, and I don’t want him to see how his words affect me. I weave through dancing bodies and disdainful glances, searching for solitude to collect myself. In the books I used to sneak, they said a woman’s first man marked her. I always thought it was nonsense. I still want to believe it is. I don’t want to think Cassian is carving marks where I can’t erase them.
My hand finds a doorknob, and I push inside without checking if it’s occupied. Luckily, it’s empty—though that would’ve been less shocking than this. The room is lined with mirrors, reflecting me from every angle. I step hesitantly to the center, where I can see myself fully.
“Guard the door. Let no one in. Do it well, and you’ll get another bag like this when I leave.”
Cassian’s unmistakable voice slips under the door, and I tense as he enters. He followed me. I’ll never escape him.
I lift a hand.
“Stop. Don’t come closer.”
He ignores me, stepping into the center of the room. Our eyes meet in the mirror. I try to look away, but another reflection traps me. There’s no escaping the drowning depths of his gaze.
“You’re not a competition to me,” he says. “You are to him.”
“He’s not the one who had me in his bed last night, using me for power games,” I snap. “Respect me, damn it.”
A flash darkens his eyes.
“I think we both know you don’t want respect. I think you want me to do very disrespectful things to you.”
“You won’t touch me again.”
I hear the hiss of air between his clenched teeth before his face is inches from mine, wrists locked in his grip. My chest heaves against his suit jacket.
“I respect you. I don’t want to, but I do, damn you.” Fire burns in his gaze. “You’re the only one who challenges me enough to drive me mad. It doesn’t matter if I throw you to the wolves—you’d tame them and turn them on me. I hate you for it. But above all, I respect you more than you can imagine.”
“If you respect me, tell me—why is Ciro competing with you over me? Don’t lie. I want the truth.”
“I owe him a feeder,” he mutters.
“Why?”
“Because I killed his.”
“Why?”
He exhales sharply.
“She was a liar. A lying human.”
“Why does Ciro care?”
The silence thickens like honey. I almost ask again, fearing he didn’t hear.
“He loved her.”
I gasp. Ciro loved a human.
“You couldn’t stand one of your own loving a fragile, mortal woman,” I accuse.
“You don’t understand.” He shakes his head. “She conspired against him, tried to pry our secrets using his love. When she realized he wouldn’t fall so easily, she tried seducing me. The idiot didn’t know I could slip into her mind—and I did. She would’ve killed him once she learned how. I saved him.”
“Then why doesn’t he believe you?”
“Because it’s easier to think I killed her out of hatred for what her kind did to my parents than to accept his beloved was a deceitful whore.”
“And that’s why he wants me as his feeder?” I let out a hollow laugh. “You don’t even care about me. Let him have me if it soothes him. He can’t be that bad a jailer.”
“No.” His grip on my wrists tightens. “You always say you’re not an object, a possession. Prove it now. I won’t hand you over like a damned vase. If you insist on being one, I’ll shatter you before he gets you, Elara.”
“So romantic and charming,” I say, tugging free.
With an animalistic growl, he crushes me against him, closing the distance between our lips. He swallows my gasp. My knees buckle, but he holds me up, kissing me recklessly. I kiss back, tangling my tongue with his like I’ll die without it.
A rough groan vibrates in his throat as he fights to pull away. He turns me, my back to his chest, breath hot on my neck. A glance in the mirror sets my skin on fire. His fingers trace the embellishments of my dress, teasing the edge of my bodice before cupping my breast.
“They fit perfectly in my hands,” he rumbles against my skin.
My toes curl in my heels, my body aching for his touch, for relief from the heat pooling between my legs.
“Cassian, please…”
“Hmm?”
He tugs my nipple between thumb and forefinger, drawing a moan from me.
“Touching you like this isn’t very respectful or gentlemanly of me.”
“Don’t stop,” I beg.
He sucks the skin behind my ear—definitely leaving a mark—then licks down to my collarbone. One hand teases my nipple; the other loosens my dress until it pools at my hips. In the mirror, his gaze makes me feel like I’m made of colors, not just gray.
I arch as he palms my breasts, my arms reaching back to fist in his hair, dragging his mouth to my neck.
“Up.”
Only when his hand wraps around my throat, lifting me, do I understand. The dress falls completely, leaving me in heels, lingerie, and elbow gloves. He strips his own gloves slowly, eyes locked on me. The sound of them hitting the floor feels like a filthy promise.
“Turn around.”
I hate how pliant I become when my body’s needs take over. His commanding finger spins me, and I obey, facing the mirror—naked except for scraps of lace, while he remains fully clothed. He grips my chin, tilting my neck, his other hand trailing down my stomach.
The chill of his skin isn’t like the leather he wears. This is the burn of ice against too-long exposure.
“I suppose it’d be even more disrespectful to leave you unsatisfied, wouldn’t it, Elara?”
I might’ve answered, but I’m not sure—not when his fingers steal all coherence. They circle my navel before dipping lower, agonizingly slow. His knee presses behind mine, forcing me down, seated between his legs, my sex on display in the mirror.
“Does it hurt?”
He parts my folds, the sight making me flush. His fingers glide through my slickness, collecting it. My pink, glistening center stares back at me. Cassian sucks at my pulse point, leaving a red mark when he releases me with a lewd sound.
I’ve never watched myself like this—and there’s something thrilling about doing it with him. He pinches my swollen clit, the pressure just shy of painful, making me hiss and slump against him.
“Don’t close your eyes. Look. Look how wet you are for the person you hate most.”
Two fingers slide inside me with a sound I’ll never forget. I want to shut my eyes, but morbid curiosity keeps them open, watching his fingers move in and out. My body resists at first, remembering he took my virginity only hours ago, his cock stained with my blood. It stings briefly before adjusting.
“Has anyone ever touched you like this, Elara?”
His tone warns against ignoring the question. His fingers slow, torturing me. I rock against his hand, chasing release.
“I was a virgin.”
“That doesn’t mean a man couldn’t have fingered you. You’re not that naive.”
A hint of jealousy in his voice sends power rushing through me. Power over a being who’s had centuries of pleasure, with men and women, with creatures beyond my world. And yet, I feel a pang too—knowing I’m just a drop in the ocean of his experiences.
His fingers scissor inside me, striking a spot that makes me arch. He stops just before I tip over.
“Tell me—how many?”
“How many women?”
“How many humans.” My voice is ragged.
His lips brush my ear.
“You’re the first.” He nips my lobe. “And you’re so fragile, I feel like I’ll break you if I push too hard.”
He thrusts his fingers to the knuckle, tearing a cry from me—half pleasure, half pain. His thumb circles my clit.
“How many men have had their fingers in you, Elara?”
He speeds up, dragging me toward madness. The wet sounds of my arousal fill the room. I watch myself in the mirror—body arched, legs spread, his fingers pumping, his gaze black with hunger. The image alone could undo me.
“N-none.”
“I want to be your first in everything.” He curls his fingers just right, stealing my sanity. “I want to be your fucking ruin.”
I scream as pleasure crashes through me, my body seizing. Cassian kisses my neck—not biting, as if his lips could soothe my racing heart. The intensity is too much; I collapse against him, a boneless, sweaty mess.
I feel—and see—his fingers withdraw, glistening. Instead of shame, heat coils low in my belly.
“Good girl.”
He licks my wetness from his hand and stands, leaving me on the floor like a discarded doll. When I meet his eyes, the fire reignites. I always thought I was cold, frozen inside and out—but now, I crave the burn. My fingers clutch his pants, urging him to stay.
“You said you wanted to be the first in everything.”
“It doesn’t have to be now.”
“This isn’t about what you want.” I tug harder. “It’s about what I want. Now.”
“You think you can take it all?”
“Show me the worst.”
“It hasn’t even been a day since I was inside you, and you’re already corrupted to the core.” His fingers undo his pants. “I like it.”
I lick my lips, watching from below as the fire in his eyes flares—and with it, my power over him.