CHAPTER 4 - OPEN UP

CHAPTER 4

~ ~ ASTRID ~ ~

The word hung in the air between us, a raw, jagged thing.

“Strip.”

My throat went dry. My mind stuttered, a frantic reel of "n-no, no way, I can't," but my mouth wouldn't form the words. I just stared at him, at the monster wearing the face of the man who was my mate. The monster whose eyes were beginning to glow with impatient, predatory gold.

He is our Alpha, Eliza, my wolf, whimpered from the desperate, primal corner of my soul. Her voice wasn't just in my head; it was a thrumming in my blood, a heat low in my belly. Our Mate. Please him. We have to please him...

Shut up! I screamed back silently, my nails digging into my own palms. He's our enemy!

He let out a low, humorless chuckle as he stripped himself revealing his muscular chest and huge member which looked absolutely suckable and oh my! my Mouth watered.

“What, you think... you think you can say no? To me?” He took a step forward, a predator enjoying the fear of his cornered prey. “You have no choices left.”

His hand shot out. The sound of my gown ripping was loud in the silent room, a violent tear that made me flinch. He didn’t just undress me; he destroyed the last layer of my dignity, piece by piece, until the ruined silk lay in a heap at my feet.

I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself as the cool air hit my skin. His gaze was a physical weight – He looked at me as if he was cataloging me…judging me..

“On your fucking knees,” he commanded, his voice a low rasp.

“Please…” The word was a pathetic whisper. “Please, don’t.”

He ignored me. He grabbed my shoulders and forced me down. The rug was soft against my bare knees, a mockery of comfort in this moment of utter degradation. He knelt in front of me, his power a crushing, suffocating wave. His hand came up, and I flinched, but he didn't strike me. He cupped my breast, his grip painfully tight, his thumb swiping brutally over my nipple.

A sharp gasp of air, a tiny, choked "Ah!", was torn from my throat. My nipple beaded instantly, a hard, aching point of betrayal.

He saw it. A dark, cruel smile touched his lips. “There you are. Knew you were in there.” He leaned in close, his scent flooding my senses - pine, rage, and the thick, musky smell of male arousal. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. “Your body knows its purpose, even if your mind is still fighting it. It knows you were made to submit to me.”

His hand moved, tangling in my hair, yanking my head back until my neck strained. “Now… your first duty.” He pushed his erection against my lips. “Open up.”

I kept my jaw clenched, a final, futile act of rebellion. The grip in my hair tightened until I saw stars.

“Open. Your. Mouth.”

With a sob of pure, helpless rage, I did. He groaned, a deep, possessive sound, as he thrust inside, fucking my throat with a punishing, demanding rhythm. It was a violation meant to shatter my will, to brand me with his taste, his scent, his ownership. My mind screamed, but my body… my body was beginning to melt, to soften, to betray me in the most fundamental way imaginable.

When he was done, he pulled out, shoving my head away. I coughed, gasping for air as I knelt there, trembling. He hauled me to my feet and threw me onto the bed.

He followed me down, his body a hot, heavy weight. “Let’s taste the ‘taint’ on you,” he snarled, pushing my thighs apart.

And then his mouth was on me.

A scream ripped from my throat. It wasn't just pleasure; it was shock. It was an intimacy so profound from a man so full of hate that my entire system short-circuited. His tongue was hot, rough, and unbelievably skilled.

“Mmmh.…” The sound escaped me without permission. My hips gave a small, involuntary jerk.

“That’s it,” he growled against my wet skin, his voice muffled. “Gods, you’re so wet for me. You hate me, but look at you. Soaking.”

He slid his fingers inside me, stretching me, while his mouth worked on my clit. It was too much. I was coming apart. A golden light, faint at first, began to shimmer in the air between us - the raw energy of the mate bond, awakened by this hateful act.

“Oh, gods… K-Kieran… please…” I begged, not even knowing what I was asking for.

His tongue flicked harder. My back arched. My vision went white.

“Ah! Ahhh! FUCK!”

The orgasm was a violent, convulsing thing, ripped from the very depths of my soul. It shattered my control, leaving me boneless and sobbing his name.

While I was still lost in the aftershocks, he moved. He positioned himself, his thick cock pressing against my slick, throbbing entrance. I could feel the heat, the power pulsing from him.

Then he drove into me.

The pain was a fire that burned through the lingering pleasure. He was huge, filling me, stretching me, claiming me. The pain and pleasure fused, becoming one unbearable, undeniable sensation. The golden thread of the bond between us exploded into a blinding light, pulsing with every one of his movements.

He began to move, a raw, savage pace. He wasn’t making love to me; he was conquering me.

“Mine,” he growled, slamming into me. “You feel that? You’re fucking mine.”

My legs wrapped around his waist, my own body seeking to take him deeper. I was crying, moaning, a mess of sounds and sensations. He cupped my breasts, his grip bruising, as he pounded into me. I could feel his claws, slightly extended, digging into my hips, marking me.

“You… smell like me now,” he panted, his rhythm becoming frantic. “You taste like me… you are me.”

He lowered his head, his hot breath on my neck. “Always.”

Then he bit me.

The agony of the mating mark was absolute. It was lightning and fire, searing my flesh, branding my very soul with his essence, his power. I screamed, a long, raw sound, as the magic flooded me, as his release poured into me like a molten river. In that single, eternal moment, my wolf howled in triumph, and our two souls, his and mine, were slammed together in a hateful, ecstatic union.

He collapsed, his heart hammering against mine, before pulling out abruptly.

The golden light of the bond faded. The room felt cold again.

He stood up, breathing heavily, and looked down at me. At the blood beading on the fresh bite mark on my shoulder. At the mess they had made on the sheets. His face was a mask of utter self-loathing.

He turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

I lay there, broken. My body was a warzone of conflicting sensations - the throb of agonizing pleasure, the sting of his claws, the deep ache of being filled, and the searing, magical burn of his mark on my shoulder.

He had taken me. He had branded me. He hated me.

And as I lay there, violated and claimed, the only coherent thought that could pierce the fog was the most terrifying of all.

My body was already waiting for him to do it again.

God why was I so foolish?