His grip tightened on my throat, sending a rush of heat through my skin.
“You’re my slut, too.”
He leaned in closer, lips brushing my ear as he spoke each word with slow, crushing weight.
“And that... is exactly what you’ll always be to me.”
Another squeeze, subtle but absolute. “Otherwise, what purpose could you serve as my wife?”
Another tightening.
“Now go down,” he commanded, voice low and measured, each syllable laced with absolute authority.
His fingers tightened around my throat with merciless precision, squeezing until black spots burst across my vision.
My lungs burned, desperate for air that wouldn’t come.
I clawed weakly at his wrist as my body convulsed, legs kicking uselessly against the floor.
The world narrowed to the crushing pressure, the roaring in my ears, and the terrifying certainty that this time he might not stop.
That he wanted me dead.
Chapter 8
ELENA
Just as darkness began to swallow me whole, he released me.
I collapsed forward, gasping violently, ragged sobs tearing from my raw throat as I gulped down air in desperate, heaving breaths.
My chest heaved, tears streaming down my face while my vision swam and my hands trembled uncontrollably.
“I’ve never... done that before,” I whispered, my voice raw and tremulous, barely above a broken rasp.
There was no defiance left in me.
No fight.
Only honest fear.
Because I could see it clearly in his eyes: cold, murderous intent.
He hated me enough to kill me right here, and no one would ever know.
No one would come.
His eyes darkened as he studied me.
“Even better,” he murmured.
I forced my gaze downward, staring at the thick, rigid outline straining against the front of his trousers.
My mouth went dry instantly, a sharp pulse of heat flooding between my thighs before my mind could catch up.
Swallowing hard, I moved as if on instinct, slowly sinking to my knees on the carpet.
The rough fibers dug into my skin, a harsh reminder of how real this was — how completely I was submitting.
