The Reaper's Wicked Obsession
Chapter 113: An Insatiable Hunger

Chapter 113: An Insatiable Hunger

The feast still brimmed with life; laughter, talks, and cheers filled every table, and the loud sound of the brilliant musical instruments followed too.

But everything felt distant in Kraven’s eyes, unlike before, he could not focus on anything or feel the pleasure of this heartfelt celebration.

He was stuck in his head far more than he wanted, his thoughts bleeding into a memory that consumed his entire mind.

Kraven sat at the head of the table, elbow braced against the armest, his fingers moving to rest lightly over his lips.

Her scent still clung to them, so consuming and mouthwatering. His pupils dilated, the constriction in his leather pants became harder to endure. His teeth clenched as his mind travelled to what transpired.

The ghostly feel of her breathless gasps, her whimpers, her screams. The sight of her tied up against the wall like an offering for him, succumbing to the realms of sensation he had bestowed upon her body.

It was maddening how she lingered on him, the effect it caused. The rest of the festivities drowned out until the only thing that clouded his ears were her finest tunes.

A smirk curled his lips, mentally thrilling at the mere thought of how much he welcomed those screams.

He had always derived his joy from the thrill of death, and bask in ecstasy when life drained from their eyes.

Yet now all he could only think of was the glow of pale ambers, ecstasy in those orbs as she descended to what he offered, what she begged for.

The memory of how she had given in, how she had trembled beneath his gaze despite her defiance. The fire, the throb in her heartbeat, and the way her insides suffocate his fingers when she reached that pinnacle.

"Alda..." he murmured, closing his eyes briefly—a mistake because an image of her came through more vividly than he had intended.

Kraven licked his lips, tasting her essence that lingered there, far better than the taste of ale that sat before him, the smell of it too didn’t compare to what stained his fingers.

Heshouldn’thavelefther.

"You disappeared for a while." Nyssa’s voice broke through. "Where did you go?" she asked the question that had bugged her since he left and returned just a moment ago.

She felt he was more disturbed. He had enjoyed the feast, talking and laughing with her and it was one of the rare moments she got to enjoy his good mood.

Yet now he looked distracted, aggravated, like it took everything within him to remain here.

"Doing the needful," he replied, distractedly, a small dagger swirling between his fingers.

Nyssa caught this action, she recognized the dagger—The same one she saw when Isadora used it against her during their duel. The same dagger that was forged by Kraven.

He had never forged a weapon for anyone before... not even for her.

Nyssa looked away in disdain, taking the wooden bottle to turn ale into the cup. She glanced at Kraven who was on the verge of succumbing to whatever had consumed his mind.

Her heart tugged as she forced her gaze away.

The hunger became impossible for Kraven to bear, it gnawed at him, insatiable. The restlessness in his bones, his blood pulsing for a demand.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He had touched her, marked her and he left. He shouldn’t have, he should have stayed and taken more because the irritation had yet to ease.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. He needed to see her, make her look at him with those eyes again, feel her struggle at the weight of his presence, the defiance in those ambers.

He chuckled to himself, pondering how many fights she would give this time, how much she would have to beg again until her body yielded for him again.

But then a thought crossed him, piercing and dangerous, causing his smile to fade.

Had she healed herself? Healed what he had left aching?

The thought of it rattled him to the core, and unable to endure the festivities anymore, he stood to his feet.

"Enjoy the rest of the evening, I’m retiring for the night," he said to the others and strode away, suddenly furious.

~♧~

Kraven’s eyes skimmed through the house, noting she had taken her time to make it to her taste. He half expected flowers or something to grace every window but there was none.

His footsteps were silent and swift as he strode upstairs. Getting to the entrance of her room, he pressed his palm against the door to give it a light push.

It made a squeaking sound, which he wanted—The desire to instill a little fear in her was greatly pleasing.

But when he stepped into her room fully, he noticed she had not stirred when he entered.

Isadora was curled up in her bed like a ball, deep in sleep—the sound of her soft, gentle breathing filled the air. Her golden blonde hair fanned out on the pillows like vines.

Kraven closed his eyes briefly, the moment the heavy fragrance of her intoxicating honeyed scent filled his nose, far more consuming in her room than the entire house.

Gods! The smell of it was maddening.

His hungry silver eyes raked her bare legs up to where the tunic reached, stopping just at her thighs.

His fingers twitched at his sides, aching for something. But when his orbs dragged to the bruise on her neck, the very one he had bit and sucked on her, something inside him twisted, and a smile curled his lips.

She didn’t heal. She could have but she didn’t. And by his guess, she did not heal that ache either.

Why?

He chuckled faintly, his head tilting, eyes tracking every inch of her—the rise and fall of her chest, her soft groans.

"I wonder why, little bunny," he mumbled. "Why didn’t you heal?"

He took a step closer, eager to be close and feel her skin against his but his thirst came like a hurricane.

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