“Yes.” His hands wandered up my back where my dress exposed bare skin. “You are. Because your mate says so.”
My skin sang wherever he touched me, and I arched into the warmth of his hands. The commanding edge to his voice made me throb around his cock. “And who put you in charge?”
“I did.” His head dipped and I was so ready for a kiss to my throat that I jolted at the careful rasp of teeth. My nipples ached, sensitive and pleading for touch. I throbbed so hard around him that he swore. “Any complaints, my angel?”
“No,” I replied breathlessly, butterflies racing through my stomach. I wanted him to bite me, wanted to feel the slice of his teeth into my throat in a final, permanent claim. My heart sank when he just kissed me there and drew back, his fingers going to my chest, circling my nipples through the dress like he’d sensed I needed them there.
“I’ll bite you when we’re both ready,” he said, one hand falling to my waist, encouraging me to ride him, gripping firmly enough to control my pace. I loved that firm so much, I raced right for the edge, desperate to move faster but forced to take the measured pace he enforced. My mate, my alpha. I was in his hands, at his command, for his pleasure, and entirely safe.
My hips jolted a single warning, and then I climaxed so hard it robbed all breath from my lungs.
“Fuck, angel,” Devil gasped, sliding an arm around my back to hold me closer as I shuddered through each crashing wave of pleasure. He rolled my nipple between his fingers, his breathing coming quicker, and the next rush made me arch over him, my breathing cut off.
And while my defences were down, a memory snuck in. It grabbed me with claws out, gouging my fragile psyche until I could smell the rancid, stinking mattress, acutely feel the cold of the basement, the hands pinning me to the mattress forcing pleasure upon me.
“Jessia,”Devil said urgently, his voice melding with the memory until he was there too. I was in two places—feeling my body violated against my will, and feeling Devil carefully pull me off his cock and stroke hair back from my face, his palm grazing my cheek. “Angel, can you hear me?”
“I can—I can hear,” I rasped, but I couldn’t see him, could only see the dark walls, the three mattresses, and my friends drugged and weak as they tried to stand.
“Can you look at me?” Devil asked so gently. “I’m right here, angel.”
I swallowed, and screwed my eyes shut like that would block out the vision of the basement, but it only grew stronger.
“I can’t,” I panicked, opening them again and glimpsing Devil for a second before the darkness closed in, my fingers going numb. I could feel the smooth fabric of his white shirt, but the reality was like sand—impossible to hold in my hand.
“Talk me through what you’re seeing,” he breathed, the feeling of him lightly stroking my back clashing with what I could see.
“I—I’m in that place again.”
“You’re in the garden of the compound. We’re sat at the table under my shitty lights, remember?”
“I remember,” I rasped. “But I can’t—” His fingers glanced over bare skin where my dress had been pushed up, and the memory glitched. I frantically reached for Devil’s hand when it moved, returning it to my skin. “Touch me here. It—I can see you. It helps.”
My breath hitched when he came into view, rumpled and afraid in his button-up shirt and jeans, his hair sticking up like he’d dragged his hands through it. “There’s my angel,” he sighed with relief, the emotion filling my chest, filling the bond.
“Don’t stop touching me,” I whispered, keeping my eyes on him, on my mate. I had a mate, and he came to save me from that basement. I wasn’t back there. That mattress and every horror that had happened upon it was in the past, where it would live forever. I knew I could never remove it from my mind, knew it would never leave, but I wouldn’t let it take away my present or my future.
“What happened?” he asked, his throat bobbing.
“I—” I shook my head, shame heating my belly like a brand. “I can’t tell you.”
“I would never judge you,” he murmured, feeling the guilt and humiliation I couldn’t hide. “Never.”
I swallowed, chewed my lip as I kept my eyes on him, refusing to go back to that memory. “When I—when they—the first few times—”
“Take a breath, angel.” I did as he said. There was nothing but tenderness and worry on his face as he watched me. I held onto that, onto the feeling of it radiating warmth inside me, the bond both sunlight and cold, icy rage. “There’s no rush, take as long as you need.”
I hated how this moment between us had been marred, when it deserved to be perfect. “I couldn’t help it,” I choked out.
I felt the moment he understood, the knowledge a ripple through his soul into mine.
“Oh, angel,” he breathed, pulling me into a hug, stroking up and down my back, grounding me with the touch. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
“But they made me come. No, they didn’t make me. They didn’t care if it happened or didn’t. It wasmethat did it. They violated me, and I found pleasure in it—”
“Jessia,” he cut me off in a hard voice. “Enough.”
I swallowed, dared a glance at his face and found it alive with wrath. Pure murder darkened his expression, but it softened when our gazes met.
