Page 37 of Bonds of Pain
Not that he’d be stop me if I were awake, but I’m no mood to see the judgment in his gaze right now.
The faint scent of seawater lingers on Maya’s skin, and I bare my teeth in annoyance. Fucking Poe. Pack shares, I know that. He technically didn’t do anything wrong.
It doesn’t matter. When I’m done here, she won’t smell like anything but me. I’ll rub my cum into her skin and make her drink it, if that’s what it takes to erase all traces of anyone else.
I know jealousy of my own pack makes no sense, but I need the visceral proof that she belongs to me.
Hovering over her without our bodies touching, I take her soft and slack lips with mine. Her breath is softly scented as she exhales, and it feels as vital to me as oxygen. I watched the video feeds. Today, she came with Poe’s name on her lips. A few nights ago, it was Cillian’s, because she wanted to goad me.
Tonight, it will be my name she screams during her release. I won’t let her out of this fucking bed until that happens.
I bite down hard enough on her lip to depress the skin. “You know you’re mine.”
Her chest rises and falls with the slightest stutter, but her eyes remain firmly closed.
“That’s okay, princess,” I murmur. “We have all the time in the world.”
I flatten my hand on the concave dip of her belly, hesitating when the muscle wall of her abdomen twitches. The few days of heat-induced fasting are noticeable. I’m honestly surprised I haven’t heard from Ares about it.
Her face remains relaxed with no evidence she might be waking. I keep my attention fixed there as my hand drifts lower, fingers tangling in the soft curls between her thighs before sinking into her heat.
Fuck, she’s absolutely drenched.
My lips trace the curve of her throat as I stroke a gentle finger in and out of her. Hurting her isn’t the goal, at least not for the moment. I have to prove to myself that she wants this, that once the chaos of her mind is calmed, then her natural instincts will take over.
The clench of her inner walls is so subtle that I almost miss it.
Gratification burns along my senses. “At least part of you is awake for me. Isn’t it, princess?”
She gives no response.
Aside from the quivering of her cunt as I push a second finger knuckle-deep inside of her. Her eyelids don’t so much as twitch when I grind my thumb in a hard circle on her engorged clit.
When I nip at her neck with the bare edge of my teeth, she releases the softest gasp. But she still remains perfectly still even when I bite down hard enough to taste the sharp tang of her blood.
Even when I shift my hips between her thighs and rest enough of my weight on her that it forces the air from her lungs in an audible huff.
Even when I glide my cock into her wet heat.
Even when I began to gently thrust, rocking so slowly that the mattress springs barely make a sound.
I am so much gentler with her than I want to be, distantly mindful of the lingering tenderness from her heat but also because I’m at war with myself. I desperately want her to wake to a vision of the Alpha, acknowledge the hold we have over each other. But when those darkly vibrant eyes open, I know the best I can hope to see is resignation.
The worst, condemnation.
Even though she came back to me. She signed a fucking contract that spelled out exactly what I expected of her.
Anger rises. The rage that I thought would finally be under control after cementing this bond. That frustration is the white-hot obliteration of a supernova, so overwhelming that it overwhelms every other feeling and consideration.
This is the part of me that wants to absolutely destroy her, to shatter her like glass into a million pieces so I can put her back together again. All this pain and struggle will create a beautiful mosaic, priceless work of art that I will treasure for the rest of my days.
And she just won’t fucking let me.
I know she’s scared, I given her every reason to be terrified. But haven’t I kept her safe, haven’t I given her everything I can?
Why won’t she just give in?
Why won’t she just let me love her?
