Malevolent

Chapter 8

Song above is Doomed by BMTH, I would consider this the other song that inspired this book. Every time I hear it, I just think of this story and I think it goes well with this chapter. Enjoy!

𓆰𓆪

My breaths were shallow. A violent anger taking over me. I wasn't seeing right. There were too many shadows. The floorboard against my cheeks was cold, soothing the sweat against my body.

"Amra?" He called from somewhere in the room. I didn't bother to look for him.

My nails bit into my flesh.

"You're withdrawing aren't you?" He stated with a tone of amusement.

I slowly opened my heavy eyes and inhaled, coughing at the dust that entered my lungs. My body was on fire. His boots were by my face. Dante bent down, looking at me like a wounded animal. Would he finally put me out of my misery?

"Afraid not my little druggie. Your end will come, but not yet." He stroked my wet strands of hair from my face.

He sat on the ground beside where I lay, feeling like if he didn't end me, death would any moment. A sense of calm set over me at that thought. My heart beat hard once, and then it pulled me forward with its erratic rhythm. I tried to control, but I was too tired to fight. 

I was sweating, so hot, I couldn't feel the ground or when Dante pulled me against him. I only saw his chest before my eyes rolled back and suddenly a chilling cold took hold over my body. Like ice against my flesh.

I fought against my heavy eyes, stunned to see my body was pressed against Dante's bare chest. His skin was ghostly pale, and deeply scarred. 

The torn remains of my wet shirt was peeled from my body as he hauled me off the ground. 

His skin was the ice against mine, holding me from going over the edge of my addiction, keeping me pressed to him as we fell into a bed. My hands found his stomach, running a finger down each bulge of abs that I felt. He groaned huskily.

The world spun. 

I was sick with sin and I knew this was wrong to like his body pressed against mine. My fever spiked and I felt like I was falling. Drunk. Everything around me, spinning. Blurry. Hazy. Dante was a demon not a man. A killer. A murderer.

"A psycho." He whispered into my ear.

I pressed my nails into his flesh and he moaned. "Harder." He demanded.

But I had no strength left, and my breaths felt harder to catch. I let go, opening my lips for air when they were hit with cold flesh and a warm liquid. That taste of iron ran down my throat, and I fought his arm away, but Dante kept my head from moving, letting his blood drip down my lips. 

His eyes were abysmal, unyielding.

I was helpless to each drop of blood that brought me back from death. It was too much. Each sense slowly coming to a rise. Longing for touch. Each muscle contracting and relaxing. Each heart beat stronger. Everything was so defined. Too defined.

Dante's hair was the darkest shade of midnight. His pale skin seemed to glow against the shadows.  His body seemed sculpted with ropes of muscle. But it was his eyes that captivated me the most—mesmerizing, like fire. Flames dancing within his irises that were fixed on my body.  

His hand shot out to my throat, squeezing at my neck, but his eyes were on my lips that tasted of his blood when I licked them.

A low, primal growl started in his chest as his hand around my neck grew tighter.

Kill me.

He squeezed the breath from my lungs, complying with my wish, until he used that strong grip to roughly take my lips without warning and...and I think I liked it. 

I liked the taste of his blood. I liked his lips devouring mine. I liked the way my mind clouded over with each squeeze of his hand. It made me more sensitive to his touch, to his other hand scratching at the skin of my waist, to the sound of his growls and moans into my ears. 

The sensations were venom in my veins, taking over my system. Every moment was too much and yet I wanted more.

More of his body pressed against me. More of his hands gripping each part of me like I belonged to him all along. I'd felt so lost, so lonely all my life, and for this brief moment, as sick and as twisted as this devil was, he made me feel like I belonged in the world.

"Give yourself to me," he demanded, in a groan that sent a tingle down my spine. "Give me your mind."

It's yours, I whispered in my mind. He kissed my neck with his soft lips.

"Give me your body."

It's yours.

His rough hands removed my bra, pressing my bare chest against his, where his hot hands trailed down my spine, stopping at my ass. He pushed me up, sitting me up on his lap. 

His lips never left mine. His groin thrust between my thighs. I moaned in delight. My eyes rolling, scratching my nails against his back. I clung to him, completely intoxicated.

Dante's eyes were fire and obsidian. Fighting and losing his control. His lips dripped in blood and he brought me close. "You will be mine. All mine to fuck with and bleed with." He bit my lip and I cried out, roused.

"Dante,"

I was on my back, looking at the demon that resembled a god with fiery eyes. 

He parted my legs with his thigh and the fire was out. Darkness stared back at me as he leaned down, hovering just above my body. Deadly, sinful eyes studied me. His hand slowly ran up my thigh, reaching my panty line.

My breaths were hard. His eyes were steady.

"I'm going to make you mine," he demanded. "I want you all to myself, Amra. Mind. Body.. and Soul."