25. Syn
25
SYN
I stare into Tarquin’s icy blue eyes as Tristan lines up for his turn. My body is on fire—pain and pleasure swirling together until I can’t distinguish between them anymore. I’ve given Tarquin what he wanted, my purr, but instead of satisfaction, I see only hunger in his gaze.
“Please,” I whisper, though I’m not sure what I’m begging for. Relief? More? An end to this game?
Tristan’s hands grip my hips, his touch different from Declan’s bruising force. It’s more measured but no less possessive. The head of his cock presses inside my abused entrance, already soaked with the cum of his pack mates.
“Relax,” Tristan murmurs, his voice a gentle counterpoint to the brutality of the situation. “I don’t want to hurt you more than necessary.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. All they’ve done is hurt me, in ways that go beyond the physical. And yet here I am, bent over a desk, taking alpha after alpha, hoping it will somehow get me closer to seeing my daughter again.
As Tristan pushes inside me, I gasp at the renewed burn. I’m stretched and sore, but my body yields to him, nonetheless.
His entry is slower than Declan’s but no less devastating. My body, already pushed beyond its limits, struggles to accommodate him. I can feel every inch as he sinks deeper, stretching tissue already raw and sensitive.
“Christ,” he mutters, his fingers digging into my hips. “You’re so tight, even after them.”
I keep my eyes locked on Tarquin’s, unable to look away from his cold scrutiny. There’s something calculating in his gaze, something beyond mere lust. It makes my skin crawl even as my body betrays me with a fresh wave of slick between my thighs.
Tristan thrusts, establishing a rhythm that’s gentler than Declan’s brutal pace but no less thorough. Each shove sends shockwaves of sensation through my body. It’s pain mingled with an unwelcome pleasure that makes me hate myself.
Tristan moves with deliberate strokes, his rhythm steady yet relentless. Unlike the others, there’s something almost reverent in his touch, as if he’s trying to balance the brutality with gentleness. It makes it worse somehow, this pretence of care in the midst of my debasement.
My cheeks burn with humiliation, but I can’t break Tarquin’s gaze. There’s something hypnotic in those cold blue eyes, something that demands my surrender.
Tristan’s pace quickens, his breathing becoming ragged. “I’m close,” he warns, his fingers tightening on my hips.
“Knot her,” Tarquin commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I want to see her stretched beyond her limits.”
Fear spikes through me. “No,” I gasp, panic hitting me. “Please, I can’t?—”
But Tristan is already pushing deeper, his cock swelling at the base. The pressure is excruciating, my body fighting against the intrusion even as he forces his way past the resistance.
His knot expands inside me as he grunts, low and deep. It turns into a growl as he unloads inside me, locking us together this way.
“No!” I scream, the pain too much to bear. The knot stretches me beyond anything I thought possible, tearing a guttural cry from my throat. Tears flood my eyes as Tristan holds me firmly in place, his body jerking with his release.
My entire body shudders; my muscles clenching painfully around the intrusion. More tears spill down my cheeks as I realise we’ll be stuck like this for a few minutes, with him ripping me apart, making me bleed.
Minutes pass like hours. Finally, I feel Tristan’s knot subside, the painful stretching sensation gradually lessening. When he carefully withdraws, I can’t stop the whimper that escapes me. I feel hollowed out, used up, cum and blood trickling down my thighs.
“Look at that,” Declan says from behind me, his voice thick with satisfaction, his fingers flickering over my abused hole. “Ruined.”
“Perfectly wrecked,” Tarquin murmurs.
I don’t move. I don’t think I can.
In the next second, Tristan scoops me up in his arms, cradling me, and I let out an ugly sob. Silently, he carries me away from the other two alphas, up the stairs to my bedroom. He places me on the bed and turns me onto my side before he disappears into the en-suite, and I hear the bath running. I can’t see for the tears pooling in my eyes before they spill over in quiet sobs that make me loathe Jeremy even more than I did before this.
Tristan returns and he picks me up again, carrying me to the bath. He sets me on my feet and pulls my dress off before he picks me up again and lowers me into the warm water. I wince as the pain hits me, but the warm water soothes me after a few seconds.
He kneels next to me on the outside of the tub. “I won’t let it go this far again. I’m sorry.”
“You won’t be able to stop it,” I say bitterly. “Don’t make promises to me you can’t keep.”
“I will protect you,” he says.
“Too late,” I mutter and close my eyes, sinking further into the water and leaning my head back against the cool porcelain. “Too fucking late.”