Chapter 10: Chapter 10
Inside Sirius’s flat, the air was warmer, charged with a different kind of energy. The earlier tension with Lucius, smoothed over but not forgotten, simmered just beneath the surface as Sirius pushed her gently against the wall by the door, his mouth finding hers with a hunger that mirrored her own. It wasn’t gentle. It was claiming, a desperate reaffirmation after the strange, charged truce they’d navigated earlier. His hands, rough from handling dusty furniture, slid under her shirt, mapping the skin of her back, pulling her hard against him until the cool plaster was the only thing stopping her from melting into him entirely.
“Missed this,” he mumbled against her lips, his breath hot. “Just us.”
“Me too,” she gasped, tangling her fingers in his dark hair, pulling him closer, losing herself in the familiar taste and heat. For a few minutes, the world outside – Tom, Lucius, the uneasy alliance – dissolved. There was only the frantic slide of tongues, the scrape of teeth, the urgent press of bodies seeking oblivion.
Then, the sharp buzz of a his magic pendant shattered the moment. Sirius groaned, pulling back reluctantly, his eyes still dark with wanting her. He fished the device from his pocket, glanced at the screen, and his expression shut down instantly. The relaxed, heated Sirius vanished, replaced by the wary, focused man who moved in dangerous circles.
“Yeah?” he answered, voice clipped. He listened for a moment, his gaze flicking to Cassie, then away. “Now? Fine. Be there.” He ended the call and shoved the phone back. “Lucius. We gotta go.”
“Go where?” Cassie asked, pushing off the wall, a flicker of unease replacing the warmth. “What’s happening?”
Sirius avoided her eyes, grabbing his jacket from a hook. “Just something that needs handling. Won’t take long.” He leaned in, kissed her hard and fast. “Stay here. Order food. Read one of those dusty paperbacks you hauled back.”
“Is it Tom?” The name tasted sour. “Is he calling you?”
Lucius stepped out of the hallway, already adjusting his cufflinks, his expression unreadable marble. “Nothing for you to worry about, Cassie,” he said smoothly, his voice devoid of its earlier sharpness but offering no comfort. “Mundane business.”
Mundane business. A lie. She saw it in the tight set of Sirius’s jaw, the almost imperceptible tightening around Lucius’s eyes. It was about Tom. It was always about Tom. The power he wielded, the invisible strings he pulled. The memory of the previous night – the fragile unity forged under her touch, the quiet conversation between Sirius and Lucius about protecting her – felt hollow now, replaced by exclusion and secrets. He got what he wanted, and they fell in line. Smart men stayed on Tom’s good side. Anger, hot and prickling, mixed with a desperate, aching need she couldn't explain.
“Fine,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “Go play your games.”
They left without another word, the door clicking shut with a terrible finality. The flat felt suddenly huge and cold, echoing with their absence. The scent of Sirius was still on her skin, but the warmth had fled. Protecting her? It felt more like being managed. Controlled. Shut out. The quiet hum of the refrigerator was deafening. Tom’s face, that cold, calculating intelligence, filled her mind’s eye. The dangerous allure of him, the sheer, terrifying power. A reckless impulse surged, hot and undeniable. He wanted dangerous? He wanted greedy?
Before logic could intervene, before fear could paralyze her, she focused. The familiar, gut-wrenching twist of Apparition seized her, the flat dissolving into swirling darkness. Seconds later, solid ground slammed into her feet. The sterile, slightly chilled air of Tom’s minimalist apartment hit her lungs. The quiet was profound, broken only by the soft rustle of a page turning.
He sat in a sleek leather armchair near the large window, the city lights painting geometric patterns on the polished floor. A heavy, ancient-looking tome rested in his lap. He didn’t look up immediately, finishing a paragraph with deliberate slowness. The silence stretched, thick with tension, charged with her unannounced arrival and the frantic energy vibrating off her.
Finally, he closed the book with a soft thud and lifted his gaze. Dark eyes, fathomless and unnervingly calm, met hers. A slow, predatory smile curved his lips, devoid of warmth, radiating pure, dangerous satisfaction. He’d expected her. Or perhaps he expected everyone to eventually come to him. He didn’t move from the chair, just watched her, that smile widening infinitesimally as he took in her slightly disheveled state, the flush still high on her cheeks from Sirius, the defiant fire in her eyes.
“Cassie,” he purred, the single word dripping with condescension and something far darker. “To what do I owe this… unexpected pleasure?”
Her chest heaved. The bravado that fueled her jump here faltered for a second under the sheer intensity of his presence. But the need – the angry, confused, desperate need – roared back, louder. She took a shaky step forward, then another, stopping a few feet from his chair.
“I need you,” she breathed, the words raw, stripped bare. It wasn't a plea. It was a challenge. A surrender she hated even as she voiced it.
Tom’s smile turned into a sharp, knowing grin. He leaned back slowly, deliberately, placing the book aside. His eyes raked over her, lingering, assessing, leaving a trail of fire on her skin. “Do you now?” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated in her bones. He unfolded himself from the chair with a lethal grace that made her breath catch. He closed the distance between them in two strides. His hand shot out, not gentle, tangling in her hair, pulling her head back sharply, forcing her to meet his gaze fully. The possessiveness in his grip stole her breath.
“Dangerous,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “Greedy little slut.” The words were a caress and a lash, igniting a confusing mix of shame and fierce arousal deep in her belly. “Couldn’t wait for them to finish running my errands? Had to come crawling for what you really crave?” His other hand slid down, cupping her roughly between her legs through her jeans. She gasped, arching into the pressure despite herself.
He laughed, a low, humorless sound. “Poor, desperate thing. Always needing filling.” His fingers worked the button of her jeans, the zipper rasping down with brutal efficiency. “Thought you could play house with the strays? Find something… softer?” He pushed her jeans and underwear down her hips in one rough motion, the cool air hitting her skin. “Stupid girl. You belong on your knees. Or spread open.” He shoved her backwards, hard. She stumbled, the edge of his low, modern coffee table catching her just below the small of her back. He was on her before she could right herself, his body pinning her hips against the unforgiving edge, his own trousers already open. There was no preamble, no tenderness. He thrust into her with a single, brutal stroke that punched the air from her lungs.
“Tom!” she cried out, a sound ripped from her throat – shock, pain, and a terrifying surge of raw pleasure.
“That’s it,” he growled above her, his hips already setting a punishing rhythm, driving into her with relentless force, the coffee table digging painfully into her back with every thrust. His hand fisted tighter in her hair, keeping her head tilted back, forcing her to look at him. His eyes burned with possession, with cruelty, with a dark fire that both consumed and terrified her. “Scream. Let me hear how much you need it, you filthy little whore. Come crawling back because you know nothing else satisfies you like this. Nothing else owns you like I do.” His words were filthy, degrading, painting her in the darkest colors, and with every thrust, every vulgar promise, every growled command, he stoked the fire inside her higher, hotter, until the line between violation and ecstasy blurred into a dizzying, addictive oblivion. She clawed at his shoulders, not sure if she was trying to push him away or pull him deeper, lost in the violent, all-consuming storm he unleashed upon her.
The coffee table’s sharp edge dug deeper into her spine with every brutal thrust, a counterpoint to the searing heat building inside her. She gasped, a ragged sound torn between pain and the terrifying surge of pleasure coiling tighter. Her fingers scrabbled against the expensive fabric of his shirt, nails catching, unsure if she sought escape or anchor in the maelstrom. Tom’s grip in her hair tightened, forcing her head back, exposing her throat as he drove into her relentlessly, his breath hot and harsh against her skin.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice a low, guttural rasp that vibrated through her bones. His dark eyes held hers, devoid of warmth, only predatory possession and a cruel, knowing satisfaction. “See who owns this.” He slammed deeper, stealing her breath. “Who owns you.”
A choked cry escaped her lips as the conflicting sensations overwhelmed her – the sharp bite of the table, the relentless friction inside, the degrading words branding her soul. She felt herself unraveling, teetering on the edge despite the violation, her body betraying her mind’s frantic scramble. His free hand slid down, fingers digging possessively into her hip bone, holding her pinned against the unforgiving edge as he pistoned into her with ruthless efficiency.
“Been wanting this,” he growled, his lips brushing her ear, the intimacy grotesque. “Since the first time I saw you at that pathetic garage sale, pawing through trash.” He punctuated each word with a sharp, deep thrust. “Pretending you weren’t looking for something… harder. Darker.” He laughed, a cold, humorless sound. “Knew you’d crawl here eventually.”
He shifted his angle slightly, hitting a spot that sent white-hot sparks behind her eyes. Her back arched involuntarily off the painful edge, a desperate moan ripped from her throat. Tom’s grin was feral, triumphant. “That’s it. Take it. Take all of it.” His rhythm became even more punishing, relentless. “Gonna fill you up,” he promised, his voice thick with dark intent. “Fill you so deep with my seed you’ll feel it for days. Remind you who you belong to.”
The crude promise, the sheer possessiveness, ignited a final, devastating spark. The coil snapped. Pleasure detonated, violent and all-consuming, washing over her in a scalding wave that drowned out the pain, the shame, the fear. She cried out, a raw, shattered sound, her body convulsing against his, nails digging into his shoulders as the world dissolved into blinding sensation.
Tom watched her climax with fierce satisfaction, his own control fraying. He buried himself to the hilt, grinding against her as her tremors subsided, his groan harsh in the sudden quiet. He held himself there, deep inside her pulsing warmth, his breath ragged against her sweat-slicked temple. “Remember this,” he murmured, his voice dangerously soft now, the threat implicit. “Remember nothing else.” He stayed embedded, his weight pressing her harder against the table’s cruel edge, a living cage. Outside, the city lights blurred through the window, indifferent. The silence stretched, thick with spent violence and the heavy scent of sex and power. Cassie lay pinned, trembling, the echo of his words – nothing else – ringing in her hollowed-out mind.
The city lights painted cold stripes across Cassie's bare skin as she lay pinned beneath Tom, the unforgiving edge of the coffee table a dull, persistent agony against her spine. His weight, heavy and possessive, anchored her to the spot, his body still intimately joined with hers. The scent of sex and his expensive cologne hung thick in the air, cloying. Her mind felt scraped raw, echoing only his final, cruel command: nothing else. A tremor ran through her, not just from the chill or the fading aftershocks, but from a hollowed-out emptiness.
Tom shifted slightly, his breath a warm puff against her neck. His hand, still tangled in her hair, loosened its grip just enough for his fingers to trace a possessive path down her throat to her collarbone. The touch was deliberate, assessing. He leaned down, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just above where her shoulder met her neck. It wasn't a kiss. It was a prelude.
Then he bit down. Hard.
Cassie gasped, a sharp sound of shock and pain slicing through the heavy silence. His teeth sunk into her flesh with bruising pressure, marking her. A low growl vibrated in his chest against her back. The sharp sting cut through the numbness, a jolt of raw sensation. She felt the heat of it bloom beneath his mouth, the unmistakable claim settling onto her skin like a brand. He sucked the bite briefly, making her flinch, before pulling back to survey his work. His dark eyes held a primal satisfaction, a hunter admiring his territory. "Mine," he breathed, the word a dark caress against the fresh mark.
Something inside Cassie snapped. The hollow feeling ignited into a sudden, reckless fury. The mark stung, the pain a catalyst. Nothing else? The arrogance of it, the absolute control, crystallized into a dangerous resolve. Before he could react, before he could pin her again or issue another demeaning command, she twisted violently beneath him. Her elbow jammed into his ribs, not hard enough to injure, but enough to force a surprised grunt and shift his balance.
Seizing the fractional moment of surprise, she shoved against his chest with surprising strength fueled by adrenaline and rage. Tom, momentarily unbalanced, stumbled back half a step, his hips pulling free of hers. Cassie scrambled off the table, her movements frantic and graceless, ignoring the sharp protest from her back and the ache between her legs. She didn't try to run. She turned on him, eyes blazing, breathing hard. Tom straightened, confusion flickering briefly across his usually composed features, quickly replaced by a dangerous, intrigued glint.
"Think you're done?" he challenged, his voice low and dangerous, taking a step towards her.
"Not even close," she spat, the words rough. She didn't hesitate. Launching herself forward, she pushed him hard. He staggered back, colliding with the sleek leather armchair behind him, landing hard in its embrace. Before he could rise, Cassie was on him. She straddled his lap, knees digging into the expensive leather, her hands shoving his shoulders back against the chair's cushion. Her eyes locked onto his, fierce and defiant. "My turn."
Tom stared up at her, a flicker of genuine surprise widening his dark eyes for a split second before a slow, predatory smile curved his lips. "Is it now?" he murmured, his voice thick with dark amusement and a growing, dangerous arousal. He didn't fight her positioning. He watched, intensely focused, as she positioned herself above him, her hand guiding him. The raw fury in her eyes, the flush on her skin, the reckless determination – it was a different kind of spectacle. He settled back, a king observing a rebellious subject, curiosity warring with possessiveness on his face.
Cassie sank down onto him, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as he filled her again. This time, she controlled the angle, the depth. She set the pace. It wasn't gentle. It was demanding, fueled by the sting of his bite, the echo of his degrading words, the fury at being discarded by Sirius and Lucius only to be claimed like property here. She rose, then slammed back down, a rhythm as punishing as his had been, but hers. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she rode him, her head thrown back, breath coming in ragged pants. The power shift was electric, terrifying, intoxicating.
Tom groaned, a deep, involuntary sound that seemed ripped from his chest. His composure cracked. His hands flew to her hips, fingers digging in, not to control but to hold on. His head tilted back against the leather, eyes squeezed shut for a moment, jaw clenched tight. He muttered something harsh and guttural, lost against the sound of her own harsh breathing and the slick, rhythmic slide of their bodies. She could feel the tension coiling in him, tighter and tighter, the frantic pulse where they were joined.
"Look at me," she demanded, her voice raw, echoing his earlier command. He opened his eyes, dark pools of pure, unraveling need fixed on hers. The controlled predator was gone, replaced by primal urgency. Cassie leaned forward, bracing her hands on the chair back behind his head, changing the angle, driving deeper. She watched his face, saw the tremor in his jaw, the desperate clench of his teeth, the utter loss of that icy control. Her own climax built, a fierce counterpoint to his visible unraveling, fueled by the sight of him coming apart beneath her.
His grip on her hips became almost painful, his breath hitched, strangled. "Cassie—" His voice was shredded, a broken thing. Then he arched violently beneath her, a choked cry tearing from his throat as the last threads of his control vaporized. His release was seismic, shuddering through him, pulling her own climax over the edge in a brutal, shared wave that left them both gasping, locked together in the leather chair's embrace, trembling in the aftermath. The only sound was their harsh breathing and the distant wail of a siren far below. Tom slumped back, eyes closed, utterly spent, the mask of invincibility shattered. Cassie collapsed forward, forehead resting against the cool leather near his shoulder, the taste of copper faint in her mouth from where she’d bitten her own lip. The mark on her shoulder throbbed.
The city glow seeped through the blinds, painting stark stripes across Tom’s sleeping face. Cassie stared, her shoulder a dull, insistent ache beneath the crusted bite mark. Sirius and Lucius hadn’t come looking. Their absence shouted volumes – still caught in Tom’s web, tangled in whatever grim errand he’d sent them on. She shifted, the sheets rasping against skin that felt too thin, too exposed.
A heavy arm draped possessively over her waist. Tom stirred, eyes opening instantly, clear and calculating even in the dimness. No grogginess, just predatory awareness. He didn’t speak. His fingers traced the curve of her hip, then slid lower. His erection pressed insistently against her thigh, hard and demanding even after the brutal coupling hours before.
"Hard already?" Her voice was sandpaper.
Tom’s lips curved, a cold approximation of amusement. "Convenient." He pushed her onto her back, his weight settling without preamble. No tenderness, no request. His hand gripped her jaw, tilting her face towards him. "Open." The command was soft, absolute. She obeyed, a shudder rippling through her as his mouth covered hers. It wasn't a kiss. It was reclamation. His other hand positioned her leg, pushing it wide. He entered her in one smooth, practiced thrust. Still sore, she gasped against his mouth.
"Quiet," he murmured, his breath hot on her lips. He set a relentless, efficient rhythm, the bedframe protesting softly. His eyes stayed open, locked on hers, watching the flickers of discomfort, the involuntary tightening of her fingers in the sheets. He seemed to catalog it, derive a detached satisfaction. It was over quickly; a low groan vibrated in his chest, sharp and final, before he rolled off her, leaving her feeling raw and emptied on the tangled sheets. He rose without a word, walking naked to the bathroom. The shower hissed on.
Cassie didn’t wait. She dressed with clumsy speed, fingers fumbling on buttons, the scent of him clinging stubbornly to her skin. The bite throbbed. She slipped out the door as the water still ran, the sterile silence of his apartment swallowing her departure. The Apparition twist felt like tearing free.
Sirius’s flat smelled of stale takeout and ozone, the magical residue of exhaustion. Sirius and Lucius were slumped on the worn sofa, still in yesterday's rumpled clothes, shadows bruising the skin beneath their eyes. Sirius looked up first, weariness etched deep into the lines around his mouth. His gaze snapped to her immediately, sharpening as it landed on the angry, unmistakable bite mark visible above her collar.
"Cassie?" Sirius’s voice was hoarse. He started to rise. "Your neck—"
Lucius was slower, but his pale eyes narrowed, icy fury momentarily cutting through his fatigue. "What happened?" His voice was dangerously soft, the aristocratic chill back in full force. "Where were you?"
She walked past them to the grimy kitchen window, staring out at the grey morning. Her reflection was pale, haunted. The bite pulsed. She turned, leaning back against the sink. Sirius had gotten up, Lucius too, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten, replaced by a coiled tension radiating towards her. Concern? Possessiveness? Anger? It was a volatile mix.
"We need him," she stated, the words flat, stark. No preamble.
Sirius blinked, confusion warring with the anger in his eyes. "Need who? Need what? What the hell are you talking about?" He gestured sharply towards her neck. "After that?"
"Tom." She met his gaze directly, unflinching. "We need Tom. With us."
Lucius made a choked sound, pure disbelief twisting his features. "Have you lost your mind? After what he just did? After what he is?" He took a step forward, his usual composure utterly shattered. "He marked you like an animal!"
Cassie pushed off the sink, standing tall despite the trembling she felt inside. The words felt like stones dropped into a still pool. "U can't kill him, u know." She held Lucius's furious stare, then Sirius's bewildered one. The silence stretched, thick and disbelieving. She took a breath, the truth heavy on her tongue. "He's immortal."
The word hung in the stale air. Sirius froze mid-step, his expression crumbling into sheer, uncomprehending shock. Lucius went utterly still, the color draining from his face until he was parchment-white. The only sound was the faint drip of a leaky faucet and the frantic pounding of Cassie’s own heart against her ribs. Their exhaustion, their rage, their protective instincts – everything stopped. Suspended by two syllables that changed everything.