Page 33 of Branded By Shadow
The taste of her, the sight of her on her knees, the helpless sounds she made… All of it was a brutal confirmation of my ownership. It fed the vicious satisfaction of finally making her understand. She couldn’t manipulate me. Couldn’t deceive me. Couldn’t run.
I pulled back slowly and let her gasp for air before pushing deeper again. “See?” I traced my thumb along her rigid jawline, reveling in her obvious tension. “You can’t resist. Your body knows what you are even when your mind fights it.”
She made a sound around me, half protest, half something else, and I felt the shift in her. The moment her anger transformed into something darker, more complicated. Her tongue moved against me, no longer just trying to endure but actively participating despite the fury in her eyes.
That small surrender broke something in me. The cold detachment I’d been clinging to cracked, replaced by a heat that had nothing to do with punishment and everything to do with need.
I pulled out of her mouth with a wet sound that left us both panting. “Get up.”
She stared at me, confused by the sudden command. I hauled her to her feet, spun her around, and shoved her face-first against the wall. Grabbing the fabric of her dress, I tore it with none of the careful control I’d shown before.
“Damon, stop!” she tried to protest.
I kicked her legs apart, pinning her with one hand between her shoulder blades. “Stop? That’s my line, Cora. Starting today, you’ll stop. No more games. No more lying about what we both know you want.”
My fingers found her slick and ready. Despite the fear, anger, and betrayal between us, nothing could really change what she was. The biological truth of her Omega nature overrode every rational objection.
“Your body doesn’t lie,” I positioned myself at her entrance, the head of my cock pressing against her wet heat. “Even when you do.”
I slammed inside without warning, burying myself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. She cried out, her hands splaying against the stone as she struggled to adjust. I didn’t give her time, just pulled back and drove in again with punishing force.
Every thrust was an accusation. Every time I bottomed out inside her was a reminder of her place. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed off the chamber walls, mixing with her gasps and my own harsh breathing.
My lips brushed her ear, the words a low snarl. “Is this what you wanted? You wanted me to stop being careful? To ruin you?”
She didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, just made these broken sounds that fed the violent need consuming me. “You don’t deserve this bond,” I bit out between thrusts. “You don’t deserve my protection.”
But even as I said it, even as I punished her for every lie and betrayal, I felt her body responding. Her slick heat coated my shaft, and she began to push back, her hips meeting my rhythm. Her inner muscles clenched around my length, a greedy, traitorous grip that pulled me deeper, welcoming the very brutality her mind was fighting.
“Damon...” My name came out as a broken whimper, her nails scraping against the stone as she tried to find purchase.
I didn’t slow down. I just drove into her harder, chasing something I couldn’t name through the haze of fury. The ache in my spine intensified with every thrust, but I couldn’t stop, couldn’t do anything but take what she’d tried to deny me.
Her body locked without warning, and she came without permission, without pride, every fiber of her being surrendering to the pleasure. I slammed in deeper, chasing the way her body milked me, chasing the high she didn’t mean to give me. My knot swelled at the base of my cock, locking us together as my own release hit like it hated me. Sharp and furious, I finished inside her with a harsh growl that echoed off the walls.
The knot kept us locked together. I stayed buried deep inside her, breathing hard, letting the aftershocks roll through me. The rage was finally spent, leaving behind something hollow and bitter. Her body was still spasming around the knot, drawing out my release in waves I couldn’t stop.
I waited for the knot to deflate enough to pull free. When I finally withdrew, I expected her usual sharp intake of breath. Instead, she went completely still.
“Cora?”
Her legs gave out. She collapsed forward, her body hitting the floor with a sickening thud that echoed deep in my own bones. There was no attempt to catch herself, no protest. Just a sudden, complete collapse.
I dropped to my knees beside her. Her cheek was pressed against the cold floor, her eyes barely open, her mouth parted as if she couldn’t catch her breath. When I touched her shoulder, her skin was ice-cold.
“Hey.” I rolled her gently onto her side, but she didn’t respond. Didn’t even seem to register my presence. Her breathing was wrong, too shallow, too irregular, like her body was forgetting how to function.
The rage in my gut shattered, and a brutal, ice-cold shock slammed into its place. The victorious heat of my release turned to ash in my veins. The Alpha inside me recoiled, a guttural snarl of pure, instinctual panic ripping through my own chest.
It took me mere seconds to realize what had happened. Before we'd entered the chamber, she'd been stable. Recovering. Now, the claiming mark on her throat was a ravenous void. The bruised darkness from before was gone, replaced by an absolute black that bled outward from the bite. The corruption raced with horrifying speed, swallowing her pale skin as it spread across her collarbone, down her chest.
The air in my lungs turned to ice. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t draw a proper breath.
I gathered her against my chest, only to find her limp and unresponsive. Her pulse was barely there, thready and weak.
“I’m sorry.” The words felt pathetic, inadequate. “Gods, Cora, I’m so sorry. Stay with me. Don’t—”
A movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention. Not my power, but something else. Something that carried the weight of decades and the cold of the deepest parts of the underworld.
