Chapter 2 #2
My stomach dropped with a bad feeling.
"What do you mean?"
Isabella didn't answer. She just reached into her elegant purse and pulled out a tiny crystal vial filled with dark red liquid. It gleamed ominously in the dim light, thick and wrong.
"This is 'Wolf's Kiss.'" She shook the vial, voice light like introducing a new perfume.
"A little something that... helps people recognize their heart's desire.
Especially effective on fated mates." Her smile widened, eyes glinting with undisguised malice.
"No matter how much Damon resists, under the drug and the mate bond together, he'll become a starving wolf who only recognizes you.
And you, my dear daughter, this is your only chance to catch him. To prove your value."
I recoiled in horror, spine hitting the cold wall.
"You're insane! That's drugging! That's rape! I'd rather die than do this!"
I'd decided as soon as they brought me here—if I couldn't escape the old man, I'd kill myself. To seduce Damon—the man I'd liked for ten years—was no different from being used by that old man. Worse. This would destroy my self-respect completely.
"Don't be so dramatic!" Isabella clicked her tongue impatiently.
"It's called creating opportunity! Once you're in his bed, carrying his child, let's see what Alfred and Lillian have to say!
You'll be the rightful Mrs. Blackwood. Be good.
Drink it. Or..." Her eyes hardened. "Want me to call those guards in to help you? "
Her words poured over me like ice water. I stared at her twisted face and finally understood completely. To her, I wasn't even human. Just a container she could trade for profit.
She closed in without mercy and pinched my nose. The instant I gasped for air, she poured that bitter, burning liquid down my throat.
The liquid slid down my esophagus and exploded into fire in my belly!
A strange, violent heat tore through my limbs.
My skin burned. Every inch craved touch.
Rational thought crumbled. My head filled with nothing but Damon—those gray-blue eyes, those tight muscles, that scent of pine needles and ice...
"Go on, darling." Isabella's voice floated distantly, carrying a triumphant snarl. "Go to your Alpha. Let him 'take care' of you properly..."
That irresistible force drove me forward. I stumbled to the door. The guards outside had vanished—clearly on Isabella's orders.
The pull grew stronger. My body moved before my mind could catch up. I practically crashed through Damon's bedroom door.
Only one dim wall lamp burned inside. Damon sat propped against the headboard, amber liquor in hand, frustration carved deep in his features.
He looked freshly bathed, wearing only loose pants.
Bare-chested. Water droplets still clung to the hard planes of his chest and abs, gleaming seductively in the shadows.
When I burst in, his head snapped up. Shock first. Then fierce, instinctive desire flooded his eyes. My scent—hay and desperation, amplified by the drug into something concentrated and lethal—turned like a key in the most primitive lock of his soul.
"Sera?" His voice came out wrecked, unrecognizable. In those gray-blue eyes, rational barriers crumbled under a flood of savage instinct. "You! You fucking drugged yourself to seduce me!"
He tried to push me away. But just like Isabella said, he couldn't resist the enhanced pull.
I moved like a desperate animal seeking water. Threw myself at him.
He growled low and surrendered completely. The glass tumbled from his hand, rolling across the carpet.
That damned, irresistible mate bond became the strongest chain, binding us tight.
His palm cupped the back of my head. Kissed me hard.
Not gentle. Conquest. Punishment. Two trapped beasts tearing at each other in desperation. His breath, his scent, his everything became the only cure, soothing the fire raging through me. Fabric tore in the tangle. Buttons clattered on the floor, loud in the silent room.
His hands were rough—too rough—fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise as he yanked me closer.
"This what you want?" he snarled against my mouth, breath hot and ragged. "You think drugging me makes this right?"
But even as the words spat out venomous, his body moved with brutal hunger, betraying the fury in his voice. He shoved me back onto the bed, following me down, movements sharp and unforgiving.
I barely registered his anger through the haze. My body arched into him instinctively, wordless, mindless. Everything narrowed to heat and need and the mate bond screaming through my veins.
"Damon—" His name broke from my lips, half plea, half moan.
He cursed viciously, hands gripping my wrists and slamming them above my head, pinning me there.
"Don't—" He bit off the word, jaw clenched so tight I heard his teeth grind. His eyes blazed, pupils blown wide and wild. The mate bond flared between us, silver threads I could almost see pulling him down despite his rage. "Don't say my name like that."
But I couldn't stop. My body didn't belong to me anymore. "Damon, please—"
Another growl ripped from his chest, feral and frustrated. He released one of my wrists to tear away the last barriers between us, movements jerky, uncontrolled. "This is your fault," he bit out, voice cracking as his forehead pressed to mine. "All your fucking fault."
His weight pressed me into the mattress, solid and overwhelming. One hand stayed locked around my wrists, the other slid down my side, grip possessive and punishing at once.
When he finally pushed inside, it was rough—no gentleness, no patience—just raw, desperate need colliding with fury he couldn't contain. He sank deep in one brutal thrust, stretching me wide, the sudden fullness tearing a sharp cry from my throat as my walls clenched around his thick length.
He didn't pause, pulling back only to slam forward again, setting a punishing rhythm that rocked the bed beneath us. Each powerful stroke dragged against every sensitive spot inside me, the friction burning hot and intense.
I cried out, back bowing, but the sound only seemed to drive him harder. His hips snapped forward without mercy, every thrust deliberate, forceful, like he was trying to punish us both for the bond dragging him under.
Sweat dripped from his temple onto my skin.
His breathing came harsh and uneven against my neck.
The wet, obscene sounds of our bodies colliding filled the room—skin slapping skin, my slick arousal coating him as he drove even deeper, angling to hit that perfect spot over and over until my vision blurred.
"Is this what you wanted?" His voice rasped low near my ear, words punctuated by the relentless rhythm of his body. "To trap me like this?"
"Damon—" I couldn't form thoughts, only fragments of sensation. Pleasure so sharp it cut, pain blurring into something unbearable and necessary. My free hand clawed at his back, nails digging into muscle.
He hissed, pace turning savage. His hand released my wrists and gripped my thigh instead, pulling my leg higher, changing the angle until I saw stars.
"Say it again," he demanded, voice shredded, though whether he wanted me to speak or stay silent, I couldn't tell.
His body moved like a storm—relentless, consuming, beyond reason.
He pounded into me harder, faster, the thick head of his cock dragging along my inner walls with every retreat and surge, his balls slapping against me as he buried himself to the hilt again and again, muscles straining, veins standing out on his neck from the force of his restraint breaking.
"Damon!" His name tore from my throat as the tension inside coiled unbearably tight.
Pain and devastating pleasure wove together into a net.
I arched like a crescent moon, meeting each savage thrust. It was intimacy close to destruction.
We searched each other's bodies for brief redemption, fighting the fate others forced on us.
I bit down on his shoulder to muffle my broken sounds.
He left his mark inside me, scalding and permanent.
When the final wave drowned us both, I clutched the muscles of his back, nails sinking deep into flesh.
His teeth found my shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave marks. The sharp pain tipped me over the edge. My body convulsed around him, wave after wave of overwhelming sensation, and he followed a heartbeat later with a choked, guttural sound—half roar, half agony.
He collapsed against me, chest heaving, hands still gripping me too tight. For a long moment, there was nothing but the ragged sound of our breathing tangled together, the room thick with heat and the ghost of what we'd just done.