Chapter 49 #3
“Hurt me. Make me bleed. Make me feel, Korithax. I need to feel something.” A tear slides from the corner of my eye, disappearing into my hair.
His eyes soften in understanding for just a moment before he starts moving again.
Leaning down, his lips graze my ear, “Just remember your safe word.”
It’s the last thing he says before he bites down hard into the flesh between my neck and shoulder, his canines piercing the skin with a searing burn. I cry out as my blood spills hot and slick down my skin, while he bites and licks at the wound.
“More,” I beg. “Please, Korithax—more!”
I don’t have to ask twice. His hand clamps around my throat, squeezing just enough to restrict my oxygen as his thrusts turn feral. My back scrapes painfully against the stone floor as he pounds into me, my head turning fuzzy as my air thins.
I dig my nails into his back, dragging hard as my eyes roll. A low ringing fills my ears, and I know I’m seconds away from blacking out.
He releases my throat just before my consciousness is taken away, and I gasp, sucking in air greedily—only for a heartbeat—before his fingers close around my windpipe again.
Between my legs, I burn from his brutality, and I can feel him leaving more puncture wounds as his teeth mark my chest and breasts.
Just as before, he releases me on the brink of unconsciousness.
He stares down at me, looking like a god of beasts, his mouth and chin smeared crimson, his hair damp with sweat, muscles flexing as his tattoos shift in the low dungeon light. Gods. This monster of mine is nothing short of pure fucking perfection.
Suddenly, he flips me over, yanking my hips until I’m face down with my ass in the air. He spanks me hard, a sharp cry tearing from my throat as the sting blooms across my skin.
“More, Korithax!” I beg.
I need fear. I need pain. I need feeling, not this numb fucking black emptiness that’s settled inside of me like a plague.
He wraps my hair around his fist, once, twice, before jerking my head back so hard my spine slams into his chest as he continues to fuck into me like a savage. I gasp when I feel the cold kiss of metal against my throat, stinging slightly as he presses a blade to my skin.
“Is this what you need, my filthy, fucked-up flower?” he growls into my ear, eliciting goosebumps across my flesh. “Does my queen need to feel like she’s on the brink of dying.”
“Yes,” I gasp.
He pushes the blade harder, a warm trickle of blood sliding down my neck. “This—this is how I felt when I couldn’t get to you. This is what it felt like when I was trapped in that fucking hellhole.”
His grip on my hair tightens as his thrusts grow more punishing, tears flowing down my cheeks.
“You. Are. Mine,” he seethes, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust. “Mine to love. Mine to break. Mine to own.”
He pulls out until just the tip remains.
“Mine.” Thrust.
“Mine.” Thrust.
“MINE!” he roars.
My orgasm slams into me—pain, pleasure, and fear blending into something intoxicating. A hoarse cry tears from my throat as my entire body trembles violently.
Korithax slams into me one final time, his guttural groan filling the dungeon as he spills himself inside me. We collapse together, shaking and panting as the intensity slowly ebbs.
We lie there in silence for several long minutes, the only sounds our hammering heartbeats and ragged breathing. I feel his gaze on me and turn my head to find his brow furrowed as he watches me.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he says quietly.
That cracks something at last. Not because of what he did, or what just happened between us. But because of what I didn’t feel.
“I wasn’t sorry,” I admit softly. “That’s the problem.”
He rolls onto his side, cupping my cheek carefully, as if I might shatter, searching my eyes and waiting for me to continue.
“I didn’t feel sick. I didn’t feel bad for him,” I continue, the words feeling heavy as they leave my mouth. “I watched him die and all I could think was good. And that scares me.”
He strokes my cheek gently, “Daisy—”
“What happens when this war is over?” I whisper. “If it ever is. If we survive it.” My voice trembles despite myself. “What will be left of me?”
I roll to my side to face him, searching his eyes for an answer I don’t think I’ll ever receive. Searching for a way for me to be okay after all of this.
“I’m becoming something colder. And I don’t know if I can undo it once it’s done.”
Silence settles between us once more. Then Korithax presses his forehead to mine.
“You were never meant to survive this war unchanged,” he says quietly. “None of us were.”
His thumb brushes beneath my eye, wiping away a tear I hadn’t realised had shed.
“But you are not evil for adapting,” he continues. “You are not broken because you can do what must be done.”
I want to believe him. I want to believe that this coldness is armour I can take off later.
But as we lay there in the aftermath of the violence, surrounded by blood, a darker truth settles in my bones.
War doesn’t just end when the fighting stops.
And even if I survive it, I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same woman who entered it.