Page 363 of Coal Hearts

Rip-roaring fury blazed as the mental image of that bastard on top of her exploded in my mind. Slaughterous contempt made my hand plunge deeper, driven by a mania I couldn’t stop.

Twisted jealousy.

Rancid loathing.

Tangled self-disgust.

I wanted to beg for her forgiveness and roar at her for putting herself in danger.

I couldn’t handle the unravelling of my sanity.

One finger became two.

She swayed on the spot, her stomach flexing. “Henri...stop. What are you—”

“I need him out of you. I need you to be okay.”

“I’m fine.” She sniffed, pushing at my trembling form. “You stopped him. He didn’t—”

“He had you on your back.”

“And you threw him off me before—”

“He should never have gotten that close to you.”

Yanking at my wrist, she withdrew my fingers and glared. “Yes, well, that part is your fault.”

“My fault?”

She shook her head with age-worn weariness. “You stole me, remember? You brought me here. You’re the reason I’ve been molested by two men when—”

“Hang on.” I frowned. “Two?”

She shrugged. “Do you honestly think I would’ve slept with you if you hadn’t tricked me into playing along with you? Are you so corrupted by this place to believe I sleep with you by choice?” Her beautiful face turned nasty. “It was my choice to submit to that bastard Daxton tonight—not because I wanted him but because I wanted to stay alive. They were going to kill us. Me and Peter. And I made the choice. An unbearable choice. But I made it because I didn’t have any other! And you know what? I’ll probably have to make a similar choice in the future because you can’t be everywhere at once, and one day, you won’t be in time. One day, one of those bastards will hurt me, and I fucking refuse to let them break me.”

She scoffed and laughed caustically. “And besides, you and I both know that eventually, Victor will ask for his turn, and then what will you do? Rip off his cock like you did Daxton?”

“Yes.”

“You do, and he’ll kill you.”

“I don’t, and I’ll die anyway.”

She rubbed her face and gave a tattered little scream. “Stop it. Just stop it!”

I frowned. “Stop what exactly? Caring for you? Cursing you?” I crowded her against the tiles. “You are mine, little nightmare, and I will defend you as such.”

“You don’t care about me. You only care that I’m your little chew toy and got jealous because someone else played with me!”

“Of course I fucking care!” I roared. “Have you not been listening? Jesus Christ, Ilyana, I almost lost myself seeing that cunt on top of you. I committed murder for you. I almost ripped off his cock for you. Why would I do that if I didn’t care?”

Not letting her reply, I snarled, “And I’m fully aware you are not my toy. You are not my possession. But you are mine. You are my fucking wife, and if any other Master wants to test my commitment to you, then—”

“I’m not your wife, Henri,” she cried with a strange, frustrated scream. “You’re fooling yourself! Believing in things that aren’t real. I will never be any more than what you turned me into. I’m a collared possession, nothing more!”

I staggered back, needles of firewater falling over me.

I’d expected her to snap into sobs, not bristle with barbaric rage.