Page 25 of Claimed In Darkness

I will die before I beg him.

His fingers trail lower.

“Say it.”

I gasp, arching, my body completely out of my control.

Zephiran just waits.

He waits for me to give up the fight in me.

To admit that he owns me.

I squeeze my eyes shut, biting back the fucking shame that threatens to choke me.

“Please.”

It’s barely a whisper.

I hate myself for it.

Zephiran makes a pleased sound, his lips curling in cruel satisfaction.

“Good girl.”

I snarl, but I don’t fight when he tilts my head, forcing the cool glass of the vial against my lips.

I drink.

The relief is instant.

The fire in my veins dims, my muscles loosen, my breath evens.

Zephiran watches me the entire time, his eyes glowing with something dark, something dangerous.

My gaze locks with his, and I know, without a shred of doubt, this will happen again.

That he will wait until I am at my limit, until I am trembling and desperate and willing to say whatever the fuck he wants.

He breaks things. And he derives fun in breaking me.

I sit up, slow, shaking, my hands curling into weak fists.

I don’t thank him.

I don’t say anything.

I just breathe.

Zephiran leans in, brushing a hand through my tangled, sweat-dampened hair.

“You’re learning,” he murmurs.

I turn to him, my voice hoarse, ruined.

“I will never be yours.”

Zephiran smiles wickedly.

---