Page 77 of Knight’s Dominion

Every muscle in Chaos’s body seized. “Where?”

“Revelry."

His demon twisted inside him and snarled. "Alone?" The roughness of his voice gave away too much, but he had no control over his reaction.

"Yeah.” Gunner didn't have to say anything more, it was written all over his face: bewilderment, confusion...pity. "Why don’t you just go and apologize. Move her into the compound. It's where she belongs."

A longing, deep and fierce, gripped him by the throat. "Didn't ask your opinion, so keep it the fuck to yourself."

Gunner glanced down at Chaos’s cracked, bleeding knuckles. "Yeah, ’cause your way of handling it seems to be working out great for you.”

"Grace and me...we're not like Laz or Kryos or Zen and their mates. Neither of us wanted it."

Shaking his head, Gunner let out a sigh. “You trying to convince me or yourself?”

Why the hell were they even discussing this? "You don't know what you're talking about." Chaos cracked his neck, hoping to release the tension riding him. “We're in a goddamn death roll, time’s running out, and if we don't find a way out, we're gonna drown. I can’t afford to let this shit with Grace get in my head. We’re mated, it’s done. That’s all we needed.”

“This isn’t something you can just ignore,” Gunner said.

Chaos was suddenly weary as hell. “You think I don’t know that? Shit, our brother losing his mate has fucked more than Rocco’s head. It affects us all. As much as I didn’t want it, I knew when the time came, if we were all mated, we’d be at our strongest. We might have stood a chance. That's not happening for Roc now. We've lost Tobias. That just left you and me without mates. I had to do it—we needed the strength—and now I have to learn to fucking live with the consequences.”

Gunner dropped his gaze and let out a shaky breath. "She's not out there for me.”

His voice was strained, rough, a tone Chaos had never heard coming from the male before. "Zenon thought that once, too. So did I. She’s out there.”

Gunner’s features shifted, a combination of self-loathing and pain stared back at Chaos. "I know. I fucking know, all right? She’s not out there, not anymore.”

Chaos froze, really looking at his brother. He hadn’t been the same since Lazarus and Eve mated. Her power had fucked with them all, and Gunner had ended up locked in the cells, afraid he’d lose himself to his demon completely. He refused to talk about it. “Gunner…”

“Don’t,” he said, making it clear he wasn’t going there, then his eyes locked on Chaos. “You're making the wrong decision,” he rasped. “You think you have a good reason, some noble crap, no doubt, for denying yourself. Fuck that. You will regret it if you try to keep her at a distance. I promise you that." Then he walked out of the gym.

Chaos knew he should go after him and press for more information, but it was obvious Gunner didn’t want that, and who the hell was Chaos to offer advice when he’d made so many mistakes of his own?

The silence of his apartment was oppressive when he walked in later, and for the first time that he could remember, he hated it. When he walked into the bedroom, his eyes immediately landed on his perfectly made bed. Nothing in his room, his apartment, was out of place, it was like it always was—like some emotionless robot lived there.

He stared at the pillow beside his, where Grace had lain tucked in tight against him. He hadn’t changed the pillowcase. Why? He didn't know. He just knew it calmed him, calmed his demon, and every morning he woke with his face buried against it, like her scent drew him to it while he slept.

A fantasy of her cuffed to his headboard, body hot and straining, skin flushed, legs spread wide, her telling him how much she needed him, wanted him, filled his head.

Unable to get up and leave him again.

At his mercy.

Sinking into her like that, tight and so damn wet.

The sound of her voice, her cries, her panted breaths echoed through his mind like she was right there with him. His dick filled and lengthened. God, how he hungered for her.

The demon inside him clawed to the surface, making his skin itch, feverish need pummeling him from all directions. Without thought, instincts fully in control, he crawled across the bed and buried his nose against the cool cotton, drawing in her now fading scent.

Rolling onto his back, taking the pillow with him, he groaned and shoved down the front of his shorts, freeing himself. He wrapped his fingers around his painfully hard length and squeezed.

This was what he'd been reduced to, sniffing a fucking pillow so he could jerk off. Pathetic. But no other female could slake his lust. Other females no longer existed to him.

Only Grace.

He slid his hand up and squeezed the head, then back down. Letting his eyes drift closed, he allowed images of her to flicker through his mind, the way she'd come hard around him, nails scoring his skin, the sounds she'd made.

In minutes, he was teetering on the edge.