Pandora's Box | 18+ (completed)

Chapter Forty Three - HEAT

He was transferring my pain to himself—willingly.

I let go of his wrist in shock as the last of the stinging pain left my skin. The Bestower was like my Vessel, only it absorbed pain and I—I took in everything.

My eyelids fell shut almost as though of their own accord when he placed a light kiss on my forehead. For a moment, my fists curled by my side and my eyelids remained squeezed shut.

It was all I could do not to pull him down: I did it anyway.

His lips were soft as he pushed mine open—desperately, possessively. I yielded into the sweep of his tongue, a soft moan escaping me when he let out a dark growl.

"You should go train."

"Maybe," I breathed.

There was something forbidden about kissing Beast after he had bitten me. The mark seemed to blaze alight every single time I touched him. A direct charge travelled to my core when he brushed his lips over my pulse, directly over the mark he had brandished onto me.

I gasped as he grazed his teeth over the scar, my back arching. Gripping his shoulders, I felt my nails dig into his back.

I hissed from behind my teeth as my pain flowed back through my veins, burning my blood. It travelled through me, settling into the crevices of my stab wounds.

BEAST

If the Nine Muses hadn't subdued Pandora's reaction to my bite, she'd be in heat right now. She'd be writhing under me—begging and screaming my name.

There was a line that I wasn't meant to cross—I couldn't have her. Because the second I took her again, she'd go into heat.

Suddenly, I clocked the black shifting beneath her skin. It crawled down through her veins—she'd taken, no snatched, her pain back.

She slipped down from the bathroom counter, a wicked grin playing at her lips. Something tensed inside me and I felt my heartbeat slow. "Have a nice day, Beast."

PANDORA

I slipped down from the bathroom counter, a wicked grin playing at my lips. "Have a nice day, Beast."

I'd barely walked three paces before something stopped me dead in my tracks. The fabric of my dress bunched easily in his grip as he tugged me roughly into him. He lowered his head to my ear. "I think you're forgetting something."

My breath caught. "No, I don't think I am."

He spun me around, his jaw tensed. "We can't have you go to train in dirty clothes now, can we?"

There wasn't an ounce of amusement in his voice.

"Well, I—"

He took a measured step closer. "Strip."

"What?"

"We can do this the easy way," his voice lowered, "or the hard way. I can't have your wounds getting infected."

I let out a cold chuckle. "Oh? So, this is about my wounds?"

His face remained icy and unmoved. "Of course. What else would this be about?"

"I don't know," I said slowly. Before I could think to stop myself, I had the dress over my head; it fell in a heap by my feet.

As though I was clothed, as though I was wearing something other than thin, lacy garments, I walked through his bedroom and into his wardrobe. Clothes were folded neatly on ebony wood, with colours darker than the shade of the night.

I was vaguely aware that he'd followed me, his presence heating the room. I traced an absentminded finger through his shirts, finally laying eyes on a collared black shirt. I felt every trace of his eyes on me as I shrugged the silky material over my shoulders.

I turned to find him impossibly close, his arms resting on either side of my head in a cage. "Do you want something from me?"

I swallowed. "I think it's the other way around."

His fingers curled loosely around my neck, forcing me to look up at him. "You're right. I do want something from you."

"And what is that?" I asked breathlessly.

"I want you, Pandora. I want you screaming my name until you can't remember yours."

Beast was a killer that needed no trigger and like a moth to a flame—

I succumbed.

•••

A shorter chapter just so I have time to prepare myself for the next one—

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Love,
Laila.