Vian needed no introduction; I knew it had to be them the moment I saw them.
They were easy to spot in a crowd: nearly seven-foot, broad-shouldered, and dressed in intricately braided, fine links of silver chain. There were few places on their face that they weren’t pierced, fine metals and jewels decorating every inch of pierceable skin. They were lounging upon the gaping maw of an old machine; the hunk of metal having been forcibly torn and pressed into a shape vaguely resembling a chair. They were surrounded by a dozen other demons, all adorned in similar garments of chains and carefully crafted metals, some of them restrained in cuffs that were as much works of art as their jewelry.
Vian smiled as we approached, sharp teeth shining with implanted jewels.
“My, my, has Zane brought a sweet little soul to mark?” they said, tapping white-painted claws upon the machine beneath them. They took a long look at me, their bright eyes scouring every inch of skin, lingering on my scars and the bloodstains on my shirt.
“Not very sweet, sorry,” I said. “Pretty sour, mostly.”
“You know I don’t go for the sweet ones, Vian,” Zane drawled, the pride obvious in his voice.
Vian stood, towering over us both. I automatically took a step back as I looked up at them, and they leaned down curiously to examine my face.
“Right then, sour little soul.” Vian chuckled. “Where are you getting your metal?”
“Tongue,” I said. I tried to keep my voice steady, but it still hitched at the end. I wanted this, there was no doubt in my mind. But the thought of a needle going through my tongue still made my stomach coil, like a snake trying to slither away into hiding.
“I think a simple piece will suffice,” Zane said. “Something black, for her dark little soul.”
“Mm, right, right.” Vian nodded and grabbed a small metal box that hung from one of the chains around their neck. They opened it, poking around inside for an acceptable bit of jewelry, glancing up at me every now and then as if gauging what would suit me. My eyes flickered over the demons behind them, and I noticed several of the bound ones had needles through their lips and their ears: fresh piercings. But they didn’t look as if they were in pain. They were breathing slowly and deeply, some of them with their eyes closed, limp as if they were in a trance.
“Do you make the jewelry yourself?” I said, trying to distract myself from my worsening nerves. A crowd was beginning to gather, other demons nudging closer, watching me curiously. Zane’s hand slipped around my waist, tracing lightly over my skin.
“I make every piece,” Vian said, with a little smile. “I find the materials, the jewels and the metals, and I form them myself. It’s a passion of mine.” They glanced back, their eyes softening with affection when they looked at the demons sitting behind them. “My beautiful creations are used to adorn even more beautiful beings. They solidify bonds. They bring pain…pleasure…catharsis.”
They turned their attention back to the box and held up a black metal barbell — long enough to fit comfortably through my tongue. “Onyx from the Black Sea, metal forged by dragon fire. What do you think?”
My eyes widened as I looked at it and nodded. “Dragon fire? Do you mean…do you mean real…?”
Vian nodded, and Zane did too. Somehow, dragons actually existing managed to shock me, even after all the other shit I’d seen.
“It’s perfect,” I said.
Vian’s smile widened at my nod, and they turned back to the demons gathered around and said excitedly, “Zane has brought a human to get her metal.”
Every demon there immediately perked up. The ones in chains strained eagerly against their bounds, ready for a show, and those gathered at the edges pressed a little closer. I’d loved what we’d done earlier, I’d loved knowing that those dancing around us had watched Zane pleasure me. But now, I was faced with the anticipation of pain and the eager gazes of dozens. Above us, on the upper walkways, even more demons leaned over to get a better look.
“We don’t have to do it here,” Zane said softly, holding me close from behind. “It can be private, if you want.”
I took a deep breath and turned toward him. “No. I want them to see. I want them to know.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing my body closer to his. “I want them all to know I belong to you.”
He grinned, and I felt a hard, eager throb beneath his trousers. “Yeah? Shall we put on a show for them, love?”
“One they won’t forget.”
Vian turned back to us, this time offering a leather pouch. “Your equipment,” they said, handing it to Zane and giving me a wink. Within the pouch were sterilized needles of varying gauges and metal clamps.
“Everyone seems so excited,” I whispered.
Vian nodded. “Getting a mark, bestowing your metal upon another, is considered celebratory even when it’s a private occasion,” they said. “But when it’s public? We eat that shit up. The tension, the blood, the pain, the ecstasy…” They chuckled softly. “This is what we live for.”
The excitement was infectious. It rippled through the air, sending chills over my skin. The crowd began to murmur, and the music was a low, throbbing beat that thrummed through my body like a pulse. Zane grasped my face, blocking out everything around me for a few moments.
“Remember to talk to me,” he said. “If you’re overwhelmed, if it’s too much, you tell me.”
“I’ll tell you,” I said. “I won’t just grin and bear it if you piss me off.” I wasn’t sure which I felt more strongly: the fear or the excitement. I lowered my voice, and added, “I trust you, Zane.”
He kissed me deeply, roughly. I could feel the metal in his own tongue in that kiss, and it made my abdomen tighten with anticipation. He grabbed my ass, squeezed, and then turned me toward the crowd and forced me down to my knees.
I let out a slow, trembling breath as I knelt there. Zane leaned down and kissed my temple, his teeth snapping together hungrily near my ear. Then slowly, he pulled open my unbuttoned shirt. He pulled it down my arms, kissing my shoulders and my back with every inch he eased it down.
I’d never let so many people see my scars before. I’d always hidden them. Even after I got the tattoos, I still rarely wore anything that would allow a stranger’s eyes to glimpse my chest.
I’d been ashamed of those scars for so long. I’d had to bear the marks of someone else’s violence, someone else’s cruelty, for so long. And every time I looked in the mirror, it became a reminder of what they’d done, a reminder that my will had been overtaken, that I’d been used, that my life had been reduced to insignificance.
But Kent Hadleigh was dead. These scars were my own. I didn’t feel such horror when I looked at them now. I didn’t feel such hatred for myself when I saw them.
I didn’t have to be ashamed of what had happened. I’d been brave. I’d survived. I’d gotten this fucking far.
I took a deep breath and loosened my nerves. I forced out the instant urge to cover myself, the automatic twitch that told me to hide. It wasn’t looks of disgust I saw around me: it was lust, awe, hunger, envy. And as Zane walked around in front of me, I saw pure adoration.
He crouched down, brushing my hair out of my face. He ran his claws over my chest, following the lines of my tattoos and then bringing his lips down to kiss my scars, and whispered, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
I shuddered under his touches, gasping as he found every little spot that made me weak. Right beneath my ear, the hollow of my collarbone, my inner wrist — he kissed, and licked, and nipped with his teeth. Every tiny touch, no matter how soft, awakened my body and sent my nerves into high alert. My face was growing hotter, and more eyes were lingering now, more demons pausing to watch me. I spotted more humans amongst the crowd too: not only Sadie, standing next to Hana, but men and women who watched me with wide eyes, fascinated and fearful, envious and longing.
“Do you see the way they look at you, Juni?” Zane’s voice tickled in my ear as he moved behind me, grasped my hair close to my scalp, and pulled me up from resting on my heels to my knees. “They long for you. Some of them wish they were you. And I’m honored you’d kneel for me.”
I looked back at him, and reached up my hand to trace my fingers over my name on his chest. A jagged, messy scar — not unlike mine. Not unlike me.
“Before I hurt you, love, I’m going to pleasure you.” He tugged my head back, dragging his claws along my exposed throat. Then he shoved me down, my face to the ground and my ass in the air. He tugged down my trousers and pulled them off my legs as I remained in position. My face was blazing hot — embarrassed but eager, nervous but excited.
Only my panties covered me now. Zane’s fingers rubbed over the cloth, lingering where my arousal had dampened it. Then they traced down my thighs, appreciatively squeezing me, causing goosebumps to spread over my skin.
“Fuck, you smell so good.”
Murmurs of affirmation rippled through the crowd and my face grew even hotter. God, I’d gotten used to Zane saying he could smell my arousal — but they all could. There was no hiding it from them, no pretending I wasn’t absolutely dripping over what was about to happen.
Zane brought his head down and ripped the side of my panties apart with his teeth. Louder growls were heard as he pulled the cloth away and tossed it aside, laying me bare, the cool air kissing my skin. My breath began to shake, my eyes flickering over the faces around me. I was already overthinking how I looked, how I sounded, how I smelled —
But all that was entirely forgotten when Zane’s mouth closed over me.
His forked tongue licked over my clit, caressing around it, teasing and flicking the bud until every touch sent waves of overwhelming stimulation through my every nerve ending. He used his piercings to his advantage too, massaging the smooth, rounded head of the barbells over my clit. Every touch of the warm metal made me gasp, and then my abdomen began to tighten, and I eagerly arched my back.
“Feels so good,” I whimpered, my words trembling. “Please…fuck, please…”
“Mm, I love it when you beg,” he murmured right up against me, the vibration of his words making me shudder. He gripped my thighs tighter, claws digging into me as he pressed his tongue inside. I swore he could elongate his tongue at will — it was pressing deep, caressing my inner walls, a sensation altogether unique from his fingers or his cock. He could manipulate that tongue in ways I’d never even imagined, the forked sides working independently of each other to stimulate me until I was shaking, my cries completely unhinged.
I couldn’t hold back anymore. I couldn’t make myself worry about appearances or shame or pride. I was drunk on pleasure, terrified yet longing for the very thing that frightened me: the anticipation of that needle through my tongue. I wanted it so badly that not even fear, not even pain, could keep me from it.
Dread and longing intertwined in my mind’s darkest places, fear becoming lust. The pain was part of the pleasure — the inevitable moment of destruction was inseparable from my desire.
Zane and I bled with each other, and for each other. Flesh and blood were the promises we couldn’t put into words — they were the emotions language couldn’t fully encompass.
My body was tightening, I could barely draw a steady breath. The music, the eyes of those watching, the crackling energy in the charged air around us — all that faded into the deep recesses of my mind. I was riding the edge of an orgasm, dragged carefully along its precipice, not allowed to fall but not pulled away from it either.
Zane’s mouth parted from me and I groaned, left shaking and twitching, vision blurred with overstimulation. He pulled me back, held me tight against his chest, and growled in my ear, “Open your mouth, love.”
I did as he said. He stood up, leaving me there on my knees, watching me as I remained in position for him. The eyes of the crowd and their eager smiles didn’t matter as he stood in front of me, smiling at me with the metal clamps in his hand. He squatted down in front of me, and said softly, “Are you ready, love?”
I nodded, my mouth still open. My clit was pulsating, my body eager for more. Zane clamped my tongue, positioning it carefully, taking his time to make sure the piercing would sit comfortably. I was so giddy, so nervous, that I felt like laughing. I could barely hold myself still.
Zane held up the needle, the metal flashing in the blacklights. It appeared terrifyingly thick up close, and Zane clicked his tongue softly, demanding my attention back on his face.
“Don’t be afraid, love,” he said softly. “You’re safe with me.”
I almost closed my eyes, but I forced myself to keep them open. I watched his face instead of the needle. He moved with perfectly calm, careful control as he lowered the needle down.
Perhaps it was the pleasure still flooding my body, perhaps it was the adrenaline. But I felt the pressure of the needle going in and only the briefest pinch of pain. The demons around us howled, they cheered and yelled their enthusiasm. But I could only see Zane. There was a slight tug as he fit the jewelry in my tongue, secured it, and set the clamps aside. Then he held my face, cradling it, smiling at me as the headrush eased, and I smiled in weak, stunned ecstasy.
“How do you feel, love?” I just nodded and smiled, because it felt too strange to talk with the metal in my tongue. He kissed my forehead, and his grip moved from my face to my throat. “You did so well. You were so fucking brave.”
He pulled me forward, and he laid back. I straddled his head, and he gripped my hips, holding me against his face. I could taste blood, and my tongue ached with the strange new metal. But those sensations were shoved aside as his ravenous mouth consumed me. Ecstasy spread through my veins like a drug, every stroke of his tongue bringing me higher.
He groaned against me, looking up at me from between my legs as he eagerly sucked my clit. The orgasm crashed over me so hard I cried out, my voice shaking with the force of it. My thighs squeezed around his head, and yet, he just kept going. Even as my orgasm gripped me so tight I could barely draw in a breath, he kept sucking and licking at me for more, holding me in place, not satisfied until he’d taken every possible second of mind-shattering bliss. Not until he’d made my shaking voice scream his name.
I was too drained, too overwhelmed to remember much after that. I remembered saying a few goodbyes, Hana and Sadie embracing me. But mostly, I remembered Zane carrying me, because my body was at its limit, and every step I took nearly tripped me over my own feet. I remember him sitting with me in the Jeep, holding me on his lap with my head resting on his shoulder.
I felt safe. God, after so long, I’d found home.
