Chapter Fifty-Seven
Stolen kisses beneath fur blankets.
Blue eyes—warm, affectionate. Familiar.
Gentle hands skimming bare skin. Snow and spruce and safety.
Loved.
Content.
A large hand splayed across my back, pulling me closer.
Exploring fingers—too soft, too shallow. Too afraid.
“Just … please.”
Too still. Too cold.
A stuttered breath.
An electric charge.
A final thud.
The ashes of first love forced down my throat.
The room splinters around me.
Drops of darkness trickle from the sky, drenching the world in night.
It’s quiet, save for the soft beating of my heart.
Rough bark at my back, damp ground beneath my legs.
Cold metal around my wrists.
No. No, no, no.
Hate-filled hands on my skin, twisting my ankle, shoving down my tunic.
No. No.
NO.
Hot breath in my ear. A malicious grin.
The promise of pain.
“Bow.”
No. Never. No, no, no, nononono.
A sharp crack. My brain rattles in my skull. Humiliation blooms across my face, drips down my chin.
Jagged rocks bite into scraped knees.
Rough, thorny roots shackling my wrists.
The sinister rattle of an unbuckling belt.
No. No. Stop. No.
Wet cheeks, pounding heart, whispered prayer.
A beat.
Silence.
A crackle in the air. A menacing growl.
It’s—
—my salvation.
“…my wife?!”
A relieved gasp.
Then, nothing.
The night splinters around me.
Darkness surrounds me, caresses me, soothes me.
Gentle patter of rain against glass—safe, not threatening.
Rose petals pressed against oil-slicked skin.
I inhale deeply. Searching. Waiting.
Hoping.
And there it is—there he is—smoke and pine.
Stuttered heartbeats and bated breath.
Rough hands close around my wrists. A sharp gasp.
Darkness blinds me, but I don’t need to see.
I already know—rage consumes him.
It’s in the dig of his blunt nails in my soft skin, in the rough scrape of his stubble against my neck, in the finger-shaped bruises he’s searing into my thighs.
“Zev,” I whisper. I can’t move, can’t see, can’t think. Only feel. “Zev, please.”
He stills.
His massive body presses harder into mine, until my lungs won’t expand, but I don’t care. I just need him close. I need him mine.
“Zev.” A plea, a prayer. “Zev, Zev, Zev.”
No teasing laugh. No whispered promise. No gravelly voice.
He gives me only his silence.
And his anger.
The sharp bite of teeth tugging my earlobe.
Rough knees forcing my thighs apart.
A large hand fisted in my hair.
I don’t care. I’ll take it all.
I’ll take whatever he gives me.
“Zev, please. I-I need—”
“You need? You need?” A low growl in my ear. “What about what I need?” His hand tightens in my hair, wrenching my head back.
Hot breath against my lips. I arch up, a desperate mewl, but he pins me in place. He denies me his kiss.
“I needed you to love me, Mayah. But you killed me instead.”
“I do! I do lov—”
A rough hand clamps over my mouth.
“No. More. Lies.” He settles between my legs.
A muffled moan, a ragged breath.
“Quiet. I’m going to take what I want.”
Yes. Yes. Yes. Take anything. Take everything.
Take me. Take all of me.
I’m yours.
Zev, Zev. I’m yours.
Zev, please. I’m sorry!
Zev.
Zev!