Morning came pale and cold, the kind of light that made the city look almost innocent.
Victor didn't wake Felicity with words. He nudged her shoulder gently, then brushed his knuckles along her cheek until her eyes fluttered open. She blinked up at him, sleepy and soft, tail flicking once beneath the blanket.
"Come on," he murmured. "Before the others wake."
She nodded immediately, trusting. Always trusting.
He helped her to her feet, steady hands lingering at her waist just long enough to remind her where she was anchored. She slipped into her jacket while he cracked the stairwell door, checking the corridor before guiding her out with a hand at her back.
They moved quietly through the bank, boots echoing faintly on stone. Felicity stayed close, fingers curled into the hem of his shirt as they climbed the narrow steps to the fire escape. The metal door groaned softly when Victor pushed it open, and cold air rushed in, biting and clean.
The city stretched below them, gray and green and ruined, steam curling up from cracked streets like breath.
Voss was already there.
He leaned against the railing, broad arms bare despite the chill, gaze lifting the instant he heard them. He didn't smile. Didn't move. He just straightened, attention locking on Felicity like she was the only thing that existed on the roof.
Victor stopped a step short of him.
Felicity hesitated, instinctively pressing closer to Victor's side. His hand slid down her spine, slow and grounding.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
She nodded. Swallowed. "Yeah."
Victor turned her gently, thumbs brushing her hips as he positioned her between them. He bent slightly, lips near her ear.
"This isn't about handing you over," he said. "It's about letting you choose."
Her ears burned. She nodded again, smaller this time.
Victor kissed her forehead, lingering. Then her cheek. His hands slipped from her waist with obvious effort.
"Voss," he said.
Voss stepped forward immediately, careful, controlled. He didn't touch her yet. He waited until Victor nodded once.
Only then did Voss reach out, one large hand settling at Felicity's lower back, warm and steady. Not pulling. Just there, Victor held her gaze a moment longer. Something fierce and tender passed between them.
"I'll be close," he said. Not a warning. A promise.
Then he stepped back, leaving Felicity standing with Voss as the morning wind tugged at her hair.
Voss leaned down slightly, voice low and rough. "You don't have to do anything," he said. "You know that."
She nodded, heart racing. Then, slowly, she leaned into his chest.
That was answer enough.
Victor turned away, jaw tight, and closed the door behind him.
The fire escape held its breath.
He stalked forward, boots ringing, and before she could turn, he growled,
"Heal yourself." The command shocked her; she jolted, ears flicking back. Her eyes darted to the pale blue bruises blooming on her thighs and hips. She set her jaw, pressed trembling hands to herself, and summoned that rare golden glow. Light spilled over the mottled flesh, rinsing it, her wounds knitting so swiftly the process made her gasp.
She barely had her bearings before his mouth was on her neck, tongue hot and rough, teeth grazing where her pulse jumped.
He cupped the back of her head, winding a fist in the baby-fine hair at her crown, and steered her against the wall. "You're mine," he said, voice rough, and she responded with a whimper that made his dick harden painfully against his makeshift pants.
The way her body arched under him, softening to the threat of his bulk, made the animal in him purr. But despite the urgency, he went careful at first licking, nuzzling, working delicate circles over the nape and the shell of her ear.
He inhaled her, filling his lungs, and then let out a huff against her skin, marking her with his scent. There'd be no mistaking, for any beast or any monster, that she belonged to him, at least for now.
He pressed his thigh between hers, splitting her stance, and let his free hand drift under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"Have you only ever been with victor?" he asked, voice dark as the Sydney night. She nodded her head, lips parted. He could see the confusion there, the wary spark that made him want to shred the world in half just to keep her safe.
"I'll be soft, if you ask," he said, lips brushing her temple. "But you won't, because you know you want more." He let his hand roam, following the path Victor had blazed, mapping the fresh skin, the curve of her waist, the trembling rise and fall of her chest. His hands were rough and callused, but he slowed to a tender crawl at the valley between her breasts, letting his palm rest above her heart.
It beat quick, frantic, but not from fear. From anticipation.
He caught her wrists in one hand, pinned them above her head, and ducked to bite at the silken joint of her shoulder, not enough to bruise, just enough to make her squirm. "You're too pretty for this world, you know?" he muttered, voice rumbling against her skin. "Too soft. I'll break you in, so the world can't."
She tried to answer, but he took her mouth, swallowing every word before it formed, letting her find the rhythm of his hunger and match it. Her tongue was tentative, her teeth a little sharp, and he liked it that way liked knowing she was trying, for him.
His eyes gleamed with hunger as he traced a finger along her jawline. "A simple head pat won't satisfy me anymore," he whispered, voice rough with desire. "Now I intend to claim what's rightfully mine."
He nudged her thighs wider and lifted her off her feet, bracing her between the wall and his body. Her legs clung around his hips, and she gasped as she felt exactly how ready he was, even through the layers of dirty denim and scavenged cloth. "You're shaking," he taunted, but softer now, his hands splayed wide over her ass. She buried her face against his neck, her ears laying flat in embarrassment.
He could feel his own blood pounding, every nerve lit with the knowledge that he was about to claim his place, to put himself in her so deep she'd never lose his scent.
He wanted her limp with pleasure, belly full of his seed, marked so every beast, would see and remember.
Voss liked the friction, liked the scrape and burn of skin against skin, the helpless heat of her body grinding into his.
He lined himself up, let her feel the threat of him before pushing inside, slow as a knife, until the tight, clutching heat of her nearly undid him. She sobbed around the first inch, hands fisting in his shirt, and he groaned at the way she strained to take him, at how her body craved every inch even as it fought the stretch.
He stroked her spine with bruising tenderness and seated himself full, gritting against the urge to just rut mindless until they both splintered apart.
She squeezed her eyes shut, fangs dimpling her lower lip, and Voss watched her every shiver, every tremor, as if he could memorize the map of her inside and out. He started to move, grinding hard against her, his balls slapping against her, letting the rhythm build until she forgot her pain and her whole body hummed with animal joy.
Her voice hitched, tail curling upward, as he angled deeper, pressing to the root and holding her there, making sure she felt the shape of him, the inevitability.
When her breathing pitched into wild, frantic keens, he let his other hand wander lower, teasing her tailbone, circling the knotted base. She squirmed at first, then stilled when he pressed a careful thumb between the cheeks, testing the tight pucker there.
He breathed out a curse and kissed her jaw, not stopping even as her legs trembled in protest.
"Too much?" he asked, cock already twitching for more.
She shook her head, unable to form words, just clutching him harder, hips rolling, desperate for contact.
He pressed the tip of his finger inside, slow and patient, watching her writhe against it. Then he fucked her with it, setting a rhythm that made her gasp and arch, as if she never wanted it to stop. Her cunt clenched him deeper, wetter, so he added another finger, spreading her open, making her take more.
He swapped between her holes, making her whine with the loss, then shudder with the return. She was delirious now, glassy eyed, lips moving in nonsense, already marked by sweat and his scent.
He pulled her off the wall and dropped to his haunches, flipping her onto all fours on the cold steel landing. The position left her open, drenched and dripping, shuddering as he pinned her hips in place.