Chapter 69
Volik
He fights it.
Reaches out. Tries to drag his feet.
But he is nothing.
His throat connects with my palm, and I close my fingers around his neck.
He claws at my arm. Tries to free himself.
But he is no match.
Releasing my gravito, I use my strength to lift him until we are eye to eye.
My hand, and Earth’s gravity, cut off his airway.
I let him struggle.
I let him see how easy it is for me to hold him like this.
I let him feel how pathetic he is.
He might hide it in public, but here, in his home, in front of his mirror, I know exactly what type of man he is.
Weak of mind.
Useless muscles.
Shriveled dick.
When the color of his face starts to turn, I squeeze a little bit tighter. Then I drop him.
His feet hit the ground, and he starts to collapse, but I grip his arm, keeping him up. Then I turn him so his back is to me.
He’s coughing and gagging, trying to breathe but still trying to escape.
I capture both his forearms in one hand, holding his arms together behind his back as I walk him toward the mirror.
I let my knees bump the backs of his legs with each step. Reminding him I am behind him.
That he’s naked. And I am at his back.
That anything could happen.
He is crying in earnest now.
Big fat tears that smell pathetic, like the rest of him.
I stop us in front of the mirror. Where he was when I came in. Where he was ogling himself. Praising himself.
“Look.”
He shakes his head, eyes shut.
I squeeze his forearms until I feel the bones start to bow. “I said look.”
His eyes blink open, and I watch his gaze drop to his dick.
He is not looking at me, so I let myself grimace.
I do not want to see his nasty excuse for a cock. And I certainly am not touching his ass. But… I want him to worry that I will.
I want that worry to be the last thing he feels.
“Would you like to compliment yourself, one last time, before the next part?”
He presses his knees together as he shakes his head, sobbing.
Under the weight bench is a jug of something blue. And a bottle of vodka.
While he continues to embarrass himself, I hold out my free hand and pull the vodka bottle up into my palm.
“Before you die, your fear will stain these walls.” I use my thumb to twist the top off the bottle. “Replace all the misery that came before it.”
Still holding his arms, I pour the vodka out over his shoulder.
The liquid trails down his body.
Down his stomach.
Between his legs.
He starts to struggle again, his panic rising.
I flex my fingers and break all the bones in his forearms.
He lets out a hoarse scream of pain.
I bend my knees until my mouth is close to his ear. Then I put all the hate I feel for him into my tone. “I said look.”
His tear-filled eyes meet mine in the mirror.
My lips pull back. And I sink my fangs into his shoulder.
I do not go fast. I do not go slow.
I just swallow mouthful after mouthful of his blood.
It tastes typical. Nothing special. But… it buzzes as it slides down my throat.
The energy…
I swallow more. And more.
He’s just a human. He is not powerful.
But he harmed my mate.
He is her enemy.
This is retribution.
I smile against skin that tastes like vodka, not sweat.
The power coiling inside me… That is my prize.
This is the fates’ rewarding me for ending the man who hurt my mate.
I swallow one last time.
His lids are lowering.
He’s losing consciousness.
He will not survive this blood loss. But I stop.
I pull my fangs free and stand up straight.
I let him think it’s over.
I let him meet my eyes in the reflection one last time.
Then I grip the base of his skull. Release his arms. Grip his shoulder. And rip his head off.