Page 98 of The Fire Went Wild

He likes playing with you like this.

That voice. It’s not speaking English, but a language I’ve never heard, like the flowers I’ve never seen.

Except I have heard it. Jaxon’s spoken it.

“Who?” My voice rings out. Echoes. A shadow moves in my peripheral vision, but when I turn to look, it’s gone. There are only thick, lightly swinging vines that pulse as if blood’s pumping through them. They put me in mind of cocks, just like the flowers put me in mind of vulva. Just like the moisture in the air feels like sweat or cum or both.

You know who.

The shadow slips closer, watching me. I settle back on the grass, moaning a little with pleasure. Something wet and hot laps up against my pussy. I don’t look to see what it is. I don’t care.

I want to show you something.

“Hmm?” I turn my head toward the voice, and for half a second, I see a towering figure that swallows all the light in this place. Terror lances through me, but it only heightens my pleasure and makes my body quake.

“Who are you?” I moan, as the invisible thing between my legs slides up inside my pussy and fucks me.

The being says a word in that unfamiliar language, and I come, groaning and shaking. The thing between my legs keeps going.

He’s not going to stop until you wake up for good,the being says. It’s closer to me, whispering in my ear.He’s going to keep doing this until morning.

“Who?” I cry out, thrusting back against the thing between my legs. The steam in the air turns to a warm rain that drenches my skin and teases my nipples.

My ardent little worshipper,the being says.The one I selected to save you.

“Jaxon,” I breathe, and then suddenly I’m on my belly and that warm wetness massages my asshole, a sensation that feels astonishingly good. Of course. I’m asleep, and I told Jaxon he could do whatever he wants with me. “Tell him to fuck me again.”

He’s planning on it. Making himself hard right now while he eats your plump, pretty ass.

I moan down into the grass, breathing in the rich, earthy scent. For a moment, I’m not dreaming anymore—I’m face down on the bed, and Jaxon’s hands press hard against my thighs ashis tongue laps against my bud, opening me up for him. I groan, half-asleep and half-awake and flooded with pleasure.

The being’s voice drags me back to my dream.

No, I need you here. I have something to show you.

“Show me what?” I moan, sticking my ass up in the air, spreading my legs wide. A hardness slides into my asshole, pain and pleasure twisting together.

A presence passes behind me, and I dig my fingers into the wet, warm earth and twist around, trying to get a glimpse of this being—this god. It’s one of Jaxon’s gods, I’m sure of that.

But what I find is Jaxon, his skin gleaming with his sweat, his hair loose and hanging around his shoulders, his face twisted with pleasure. He’s fucking my ass in the bed at Edie’s house.

No, no.The voice drifts around me.That’s not the version you need to see.

And then suddenly, I’m not in the garden or in the bed but in Jaxon’s kitchen, the sunlight hazy as it drifts through the windows. Jaxon is there, too, but as a teenage boy, his hair in a 1970s shag that curls around his ears, sullen and scowling and waiting patiently in one of those big wooden chairs he keeps in his dining room.

A man passes by him, big and dangerous-looking. A knife gleams at his side.

“What is this?” I whisper.

An initiation.

And then there’s Jaxon with a gaping neck wound, blood pouring across his chest.

I come again, screaming into the dirt.

There’s my monster,the being purrs.There’s my Hunter.

Pleasure surges through me, hot and delirious, I lift my face from the rain-damp grass to gasp down air. I feel like I’m never going to stop coming.