I hated him for it, hated him because some part of me did want it. My chest burned with humiliation of my own heartbeat.
“You don’t own me,” I spat. “You can’t claim what I don’t give.”
Something dangerous flickered in his eyes. He swallowed the fury. He slammed me closer, his forehead brushing mine as his lips trembled with words unspoken before he crushed them out.
“You are mine, Dolcezza, in every way. I’ll never..” his voice cracked imperceptibly, “…let anyone tear you from me. Even if I have to chain you to my shadow.”
Who would tell him his words were chains themselves? That he was terrifying, suffocating, and my anchor.
His hands gripped my hips, bruising and forcing me against him until every inch of me was mapped by his violence. My mind screamed resistance, but my body betrayed me.
Shivers raced under his touch. I wondered if he could feel that too. If he was feeling me too.
My breath caught as he licked his lips, and there was no tenderness in them. Just hunger, frustration, a desperation he didn’t have language for.
There was no religion that could save me now, and I realised that the moment he leaned down and his lips devoured mine in a kiss too brutal to be called a kiss.
I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, inviting him in, and simultaneously, my eyes shed tears. What was I doing? It was not lucid. But did it even matter?
I was beyond the point of rationalism. Beyond the cogency. Beyond sanity. He groaned into my mouth and I bit his lips hard, drawing out blood, tasting it on my tongue, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, the bulge between his legs grew bigger.
“You think I don’t know how to love?” he growled against my mouth. “I only know how to ruin, how to burn. And still…” his voice softened, painfully human for a fraction of a second, “… still, I would burn the world just to keep you warm.”
My nails dragged down his arms. “You’re pathetic,” I whispered. “You call this love? You only know how to cage what terrifies you. Admit it, Zagreus. I terrify you.”
He chuckled as his hand slid into my hair, yanking my head back, forcing my eyes to the mirror as he pressed me against the cold floor. My reflection stared back. Wild-eyed, torn between fury and darkness, something shamefully hungry.
“Look at you,” he breathed, manhandling me to stand, and his arms found my waist. His thumb brushed my lower lip before he bit his own. “You hate me, don’t you? Hate me all you want. But don’t you dare look away. You’ll remember this, every breath and mark I give you.”
“Say it,” he demanded. “Say you’re mine.”
I swallowed, my reflection fractured in the mirror, and my heart thundered with every question I never wanted answered. Was it madness to crave the very thing I despised? Was it sickness to find beauty in the hands that shackled me?
My lips parted. “I am not yours…” I breathed out.
He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re very stubborn. Don’t worry, I’ll fuck the resistance out of you and by the end of this night, either you’ll forget your own name or… become mine.”
He grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back as he dragged me towards the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. With his other hand, he tore at my clothes, crystals flying everywhere as he exposed my soft, creamy skin to the cool air.
“Watch, Dolcezza,” he demanded, voice a low, dangerous growl. “Watch as I claim what's mine. Watch as I fucking ruin you for yourself.”
He shoved me against the mirror, the cold glass a stark contrast to the heat of my skin. His hands roamed my body, squeezing, kneading, leaving bruises in their wake. He kicked my legs apart, spreading me open for him.
Zagreus undid his belt and pants, freeing his large, thick cock. It jutted out, hard and angry, the tip flushing a deep, angry red. He stroked himself once, twice, before gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks.
With one brutal thrust, he slammed into me, burying himself to the hilt. He didn’t give me time to adjust, just started fucking me hard and fast, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room.
“Fuck, you're so goddamn tight,” he snarled, hips pistoning in and out, his cock sliding in and out of my dripping womanhood as I moaned. “Watch, little wife. Watch as my cock moves in and out.”
One hand snaked up to my throat, squeezing lightly, while the other reached down to rub at my clit, pinching and tugging the sensitive nub. He leaned down, biting at my neck hard, sucking a dark bruise into my skin.
“This cunt belongs to me,” he growled, giving a particularly hard thrust. “This body belongs to me. You belong to me, you understand? Say you fucking get it. Say you're mine.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Husband and Wife
My body jolted with each savage thrust, my back slamming against the cold mirror as he took me with a ferocity that stole my breath. I watched, transfixed and horrified, as his hips pistoned in and out, his thick cock disappearing into my stretched, glistening folds only to emerge slick and throbbing.
