22. Conrad
S he’s in that same fucking pose as I walk in.
Curled up, staring out the window like she’s serving a life sentence. I grit my teeth, feeling that flash of anger once more.
Why isn’t she happy? Why isn’t she grateful?
I know what her life was like back at the Monclere house. I know they beat her, starved her, and treated her like shit. She lived in some crappy old wing of the house, right over the servant quarters, as if she were little more than trash.
But here she is a queen. Here she can have anything she wants.
I let out a snarl before I can stop it and she takes a sharp breath, flinching as she forces herself to look at me.
“Come here,” I say quietly.
Her eyes dart to my hand, to the holdall.
“Wha, wha, what is that..?” She stammers.
“Your things.”
She frowns deeper, like I’m speaking a foreign language.
“Come here right now.” I snap, losing what little patience I have left.
She scrambles up, her eyes going wide as she moves to obey me and I’ll admit, I like the look of fear on her face.
I drop the bag, letting it fall with a thud. She stops in front of me, just out of reach and I take a step, closing the distance. For a second, we just stare at one another. At least, I stare at her while she stares at my feet like she doesn’t have the balls to look me in the eye.
“I got you something.” I say, pulling the necklace from my pocket. As I hold it out in front of her face, she doesn’t react. “It belonged to my mother.” I add.
Still nothing.
I undo the chain, fixing it around her neck and it sits there glinting, just as perfectly as I imagined.
God, she’s so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.
Her big doe eyes seem to well with tears and for one brief moment, I think it’s with joy. With love, that she understands what her place now is and that she’s fully accepting it.
But then her lip trembles. She sniffs, and it hits me that those tears are not of joy at all. They’re of anger, of resentment.
“Don’t you like it?” I snarl. That necklace is worth a fortune.
She doesn’t reply beyond openly crying, and that there is the final fucking straw.
My fist slams into her face before I can think of any other reaction.
A scream passes her lips as she goes flying, landing on the rug with a thump.
“I’m giving you my home.” I spit, hitting her again. “I’m giving you my love. My time. My fucking time.”
I hit her again.
And again.
Does she not get it? Does she not understand?
She curls up, her hands coming over her head to try to protect herself and I haul her around, yanking her limbs down and pinning them with my knees so she’s completely defenceless.
“You’re my wife.” I snarl. “My fucking wife. It’s about time you accept it, about time you start acting like it.”
“Per-per-please…”
I don’t let that pitiful plea past her lips. I don’t let her finish her sentence.
“This is your doing, Brynn.” I yell as I undo my belt, pull my cock out and ram it down her throat. “Your fault. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to beat you, but you make me. You give me no choice.”
She openly gags on me as I start thrusting away, but I don’t give her a second to adjust. She’ll take my cock, she’ll take my gifts, take everything I give her because if she doesn’t…
A deep guttural scream vibrates around me, and I let out a groan at how good it feels. I know she didn’t mean to do it in pleasure, but this woman… My hand delves into her hair and I thrust harder, more mercilessly. I don’t care what it takes, what I have to do. This wife of mine will learn her place.
Her tears stream down her cheeks, her face is so red. Her nose hits my stomach as I pound into her and my balls slap into her chin.
If she were good, if she were well behaved she’d be cupping them, massaging them, showing me how much she enjoys being used.
But this little bitch here still wants to fight.
“You’ll take my cock.” I growl. “You’ll fucking choke on it until you learn.”
But even with her fighting, even with her trying to throw me off I’m still there, still chasing my high. This woman does things to me I can’t explain, I can’t even fathom. It’s like she’s put a spell on me, enchanted me. Bewitched me.
I let out a roar as I come, pouring myself deep down her throat. As I drag my cock out, I smear what’s left over her lips.
She looks in a state, she looks a mess. But with my come over her, she looks magnificent too.
She sits up, just enough to meet my gaze and then her eyes turn furious and she spits. Semen, saliva, it all comes flying out, landing on my cheek.
“You fucking bitch…”
I’m on her again, not that I’d gotten off her to start with. One hard strike knocks her back, and then I’m beating her once more. My knuckles protest as I land a blow to her ribs. I can feel my own hands bruising from the impact, but she needs to learn. She needs to stop rebelling.
My chest heaves, my entire body seems to want to protest. But this is what is necessary.
“I haaate you.”
She screams at me. Screams those words loudly.
My hand wraps around her throat and I lower my face till our noses are touching.
“The fuck did you just say?”
“I hate you.” She says again. With more venom. More anger. More emotion than I’ve ever heard from her. Gone is the placid, meek little girl. The woman in front of me now is all poison. “I hate you.” She screams it once more. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”
I slam her head back, slam it into the rug and her eyes roll back on impact.
“I’ll, I’ll never love you. I’ll never feel anything for you but hate.”
The fact that she’s not stammering right now pisses me off even more.
My fingers curl around the chain of my mother’s necklace around her throat and I tighten it, seeing the way her flesh pops out, the way it reddens. Part of me wants to do it, to strangle her, to silence her forever.
My fucking wife.
She was meant to be docile. Malleable. But this bitch before me is anything but.
She starts clawing, flailing, her body jerking violently as she tries to throw me off. For one moment I consider doing it, tightening my mother’s chain even further, taking the last of her breath and watching as she slowly dies.
It would be a fine punishment.
It would be more than justifiable.
Her eyes bulge. All the little blood vessels seem to pop and they go so violently red. Her tongue lops out of her mouth, swelling with the pressure.
And then my fingers ease. The voice of reason talks us both off that ledge.
“My fucking wife.” I hiss as she gasps for breath.
More tears stream down her bruised face. The chain sticks to her skin, and I can see where the mottled flesh is already turning purple.
She starts shaking; whether from shock or fear I don’t know, but I realise now that I’ve been going about this all wrong.
I shouldn’t be trying to win her love with nice gestures. I shouldn’t be trying to kill her fight with kindness.
No, I’ll break her the way Magnus broke Lilianna.
I’ll break my wife down into tiny little pieces and I’ll rebuild her until the only thoughts she has in her head are the ones I’ve put there.