“I’ve given up so much for you. All I demand is that you obey the contract you signed. Once you’ve learned who your true master is, I will be good to you again.”
Selma squirmed to get away. Though she knew it was pointless, instincts for self-preservation took over, and she fought and kicked at him in her desperation. Once, he’d been able to sway her with his handsome features and kind mannerisms, but whatever attraction she’d had for him was gone.
Even if she hadn’t seen him brutally murder the people who’d tried to save her from him, Kain’s claim to her had erased other demons’ ability to influence her, and she felt nothing but disgust as Marathin’s hot breath puffed against the side of her neck.
“Let go of me!” she screamed as he lifted her up, only to press her against the side of the car a moment later. “I’m his, and nothing you do will change that!”
Marathin’s eyes glowed dangerously as he bent over her, blocking her view of the night sky.
“We’ll just have to see about that. Once I remind you of how perfectly we fit together you will change your tune, Breeder. But at least he should have given you enough cock that I don’t have to twist your ring—you will be fully conscious through every moment while I reclaim your sweet little cunt. You’ll have eternity to regret running from me—and I suspect you’ll start when you’re howling for mercy on my ridges!”
Oh, god. No.
Cold realization set in just as he started ripping at her clothes. He’d raped her before, but this time, the dark magic welded around her clit wouldn’t ease the violation.
There’d been pleasure the first time he’d forced her. Her body, while at first struggling with his demonic anatomy, had been open and eager from his manipulations. Now every muscle in her body tensed with repulsion at his closeness, nausea churning in her gut as she struggled against him.
The pain of being forced to take his ridged mass while her body was unwilling terrified her, but what made her heart clench was the realization that someone other than her mate would demand access to the very core of her being, would take what only belonged to Kain.
She couldn’t live through that.
“No! Let me go! Stop!” Selma clawed at his face and kicked frantically at anything she could make contact with, but Marathin was much too strong.
Snarling, he ripped open her shirt to let her breasts spill into the cold air, then yanked her pants down so hard the zipper broke.
“Yield!” he growled. “Yield, or I’ll make it hurt even worse!”
He’d once claimed he’d never harm her, promises made by a demon cajoling his victim. Kain had made her promises too, promises he’d given his freedom to keep. The juxtaposition thundered in her head as she struggled against him, the twisted mockery that was Marathin’s claims of love finally making it crystal clear what’d been between her and her mate who’d sacrificed everything for her.
Love.
Bealith was right. But she’d never get to tell him.
In the end, it didn’t matter how much she resisted. Marathin was much too strong, and despite fighting and screaming as best she could, nothing she did made him stop.
When his hand brushed between her legs, separating her nether lips, there was nothing she could do to resist it.
Marathin grunted at her low sob, squeezing her wrists painfully tight. She tried to clamp her thighs together, but he simply lifted her to rest against the hood of her car and stepped in between her legs, separating them with his hips.
But where despair and violation had sprouted, something new rose from the very core of her being: a white-hot fire burning through her veins in a flash faster than she could fully comprehend, eradicating her fear until only deep, seething anger remained.
He dared! He’d ruined her life, had hunted for her across the entire country, and now he’d taken her mate from her just so he could violate her once more.
She’d cowered before him for the last time.
“I said no!” This time her voice was not a pleading whimper. She screamed in fury as the fire in her blood rushed up her arms and into her hands.
Marathin released her wrists with a startled shriek, stumbling back, and she didn’t pause to think. The second she was free, she grasped his face in her hands and squeezed.
His skin lit up with bright white light drawing fissures from where her fingers bore into him. He screamed then, his eyes wide with fear as he stared at her, but his body seemed limp, only held aloft by her grip.
There was nothing but grim satisfaction as she stared at his panicked eyes lit up from within with the raw, pulsing power rushing from her core.
With a crack like thunder, his head exploded between her palms in a burst of light. Selma tumbled to the ground, thrown by the shockwave. Belatedly she shrieked and cussed as her exposed skin grated against the rough road. But once she finally lay still, nothing but silence met her.
Slowly she sat up, panting from pain and a kind of soul-deep exhaustion that was wholly new.
On the ground a few yards over, Marathin’s headless body lay sprawled on the tarmac. Bits of bloody skull and brain matter were scattered around them both.
