Chapter 37

Helen POV

“Helen,” he panted, pulling to center my hips onto his lap.

I could only be manipulated, too weak to move and far too chained up to associate my body against his. He had it handled, though. He yanked me forward onto his hips and grinded our bodies against each other.

Panting, kissing, moaning—he wanted all of it. He wanted it now.

I tipped my head back as he tore my clothes off, uncaring of them anymore. I have so little outfit choices that the maids have brough into this room and I’m running out quicker when Justin does this. He doesn’t care.

He needs me now and I’m not going to stop him from that smoldering necessity.

I felt the wetness swell, his fingers taunting my sex and pressing into it, against it, watching my face as I reacted to each movement. He was taunting me, building my pleasure up to the maximum cliff but back down slowly before I could fully jump in.

Justin was pleasing me. That, in turn, gave him a pleasure I couldn’t reciprocate.

But I wanted to try.

I yanked on the chains, gasping as he finally freed his erection from his jean prison. It shot outward, begging for my sex, but I pulled back against the wall, watching his eyes go dark.

I could only lean forward a little, his Lycan pulling for control as he noticed my intent. He sat up on his knees and in one quick pump, let my lips encase his pleasure. He was throbbing, damn near the cliffs I had been at earlier, and it was begging to be cut loose.

“Fuck, Helen,” he snarled, his voice similar to his Lycan’s roar. “My perfect mate. My fucking perfect mate. You’re perfect.”

His hand cradled the back of my head, setting the rhythm my lips would pull and push over his erection. He panted with each thrust, his hips rhythmically jolting into my face, my tongue swirling around the tip while the rest of him broke.

“No more,” he barked suddenly, yanking my mouth away.

I choked on the air a little bit but he was too busy forcing my body to turn, my arms crossing in chains on the wall as my chest hit the bricks with tired force. I arched my back inward, giving him easier access, and feeling utterly hot while doing it.

My sex was drenched, begging for us to reconnect.

The Last Lycan wasn’t going to disappoint. “My mate!”

He filled me to the brim and I came just in that moment, overwhelmed in pleasure, in pain, his nails dragging paths over my back like a scratching past. I tilted my head back, his fingers curling into my soft curls, his hips thrusting, pumping, fighting to break us both for good.

I screamed as I came again, so overwhelmed that I was near passing out.

“Fuck,” he snarled, gabbing my hips so hard I could feel the bruises as they formed. “Wait—Helen!”

I slumped into the wall as he came, my body twitching uncontrollably. I could make out a blurry view of my mate as he stood up with his claws out. He was almost fully Lycan, too far close to it for him to be this coherent with me.

He slapped a hand across the wall once or twice, fighting until the bricks had crumbled at his nails and the chains had sliced. I fell to the floor, panting in each breath as if it were my last.

My mate stepped back for a long moment, the pleasure we just experienced second in his mind as he stared though me in pure angst. Only then could I smell the blood on my back. I could feel the deep wounds, the slices of my flesh, and the slightest move on the floor caught a lump in my throat.

“No, no, no,” Justin craned. “I’m sorry, my mate, I—my Lycan—It was too dangerous—”

I raised my hand at his pleading cries. “I’m fine, I’m fine…”

It was a lie. The wounds stung and I couldn’t bare much more of it. I blinked slow on the floor, groaning in agreement when Justin made his way back to my spot on the floor, picking me and the chains up off of the floor.

He held me in his arms, tearful and furious.

“My damn Lycan—” he snapped. “I knew I was too dangerous before, I told you this—I told you I would hurt you and now I’ve done it—”

“I’m alright,” I said, my head falling lazily over his forearm.

“It’s the New Moon,” he snarled. “I knew the Full Moon was dangerous but this—I can’t believe I’ve done this to my own mate. I’m a monster.”

I wanted to calm him down but he refused to let me speak, whisking me into the bathroom where he flipped on the faucet and set me into the running shower water. I grabbed for him, pleading that he would join me, but his eyes had shifted and his skin had gone warily pale.

He was turning. It could have been our ferocity in sex, our struggles with the Alpha King, or anything else that had broken us as a matehood.

“I’m turning,” he barked. “I fucking hurt my mate. I deserve that Silver Bullet!”

“No,” I gasped.

I was pawing at his hip before he could turn and bolt from this room. I managed to pull him closer and then into the bathtub. I laid my side against his body, waning over every brush of his body against mine. He brough a careful hand to my scratch marks, still trembling in anger.

“I’m horrible. Absolutely horrible.”

“You’re not,” I insisted. “You’re stronger, Justin.” I felt around my cheek, my eye healed and my face no longer indented in marks. “See? My face healed from your father’s slap. We are both stronger, Justin.”

“What if I get stronger and kill you?”

“You won’t,” I say, unsure of even that reply. “It will be okay.”

His eyes were stuck on the bedroom, my gaze following as it landed on the table near the window.

“The diary.”

“We need that last page,” he groaned. “We need to see what it was going to say. It may be an answer to both of our problems right now, my mate.”

“Your father isn’t going to let us get near the library ever again,” I huffed, leaned into his chest more as he held me. I refused to let him release me in fear he would shift and wreak havoc after what he did to my back. “Where could that last page be?”

“It was written by my mother,” he said with a locked jaw. “She spent all of her time in that library. It has to be there.”

“I’m exhausted right now,” I admitted. “Hold me for now. We can find our peace later.”

“Yes, mate. You’re right.”