Chapter 15: Broken on His Terms
He grabbed me hard, yanking me against the wall, rough enough to make my back sting. A heavy gasp ripped out of my lips as I stared at him, eyes wide, heart slamming in my chest.
"When I say strip, Seraphina, you don't think twice. You don't get to breathe twice. You don't do anything but strip. I don't care if you tear the damn clothes off your body, fast or slow. But you strip. Strip like your life depends on it, 'cause it does." His voice boomed, shaking me to my bones. His hand dropped from my neck, and he stepped back, leaving me to crumble to the ground, my knees hitting the cold stone.
I coughed hard, my throat raw, trying to suck in air that wouldn't come.
"Again, for the last time—strip!"
His voice was calm now, but that calm was worse, like ice sliding down my spine, sharp and dangerous.
I stepped back, but I shouldn't have. His eyes followed me, dark and mean, like he hated the sight of me moving. His stare cut through me and made my legs shake so bad I thought I'd fall.
But I couldn't strip. I just couldn't.
He came at me again, his eyes throwing daggers, his lips pressed tight like he was going to kill me instead. Quick, like lightning, he dragged me to the bed, his hands rough, bruising my arms. Before he could toss me down, his voice broke through, right in my face.
"When I say strip, you do it now. When I summon you, you show up now. When I say open your damn fucking legs, you spread them wide as you can."
He snarled slowly but loudly, and I curled up inside, fear twisting my guts, and pain and hate growing all at once.
"I'm the daughter of a Lancaster," I snapped, my voice shaking but strong, not knowing where the courage came from. "I won't let you use me like some worthless slave."
His lips twisted into a smirk, cold and cruel. He tilted his head, his eyes sliding down my body, stopping below my neck. I swallowed hard, my skin crawling under his stare.
Remembering his bite.
His nature.
That this was no ordinary werewolf.
This was a hybrid.
A tainted werewolf, and who knows, maybe more.
And I had angered him enough already.
"Feisty, are you? I love feisty," he suddenly whispered, but his bloodshot eyes said he didn't mean it. They were wild and looked angry.
He ripped my dress in two, the fabric screaming as it tore, leaving me bare to the cold air and his hard gaze. I scrambled back to the headboard, my hands covering my breasts, but his eyes didn't hold lust—just disgust, like I was something dirty he owned.
"Remove your fucking hands, slave, or I'll cut 'em off!"
Maybe it was the raw threat, or the way he spat the words, but my hands dropped, shaking, to my sides. Tears burned my eyes, and I fought to keep them from falling, but they spilled anyway, hot and shameful.
He stared at me, head tilting, gawking at my body like I was meat on a hook. Then he moved, slowly, like a wolf circling its kill. I was his prey.
"Widen your legs, slave! Or I bite you, and trust me, it's not what you want."
His voice was bold, harsh, and commanding, and I hated how my body listened, my legs parting slowly, my hands falling away from my chest. The air bit at my skin, making me shiver at his last words.
I was going to act like a good, obedient slave princess and get out of here.
He held my gaze as he unzipped his pants. His cock stood there, monstrous, thick, and long, making my throat go dry. I'd seen cocks in court, all kinds, but this—this was different. This was punishment, meant to break me. The thought of it tearing through me, stealing my virginity, made my stomach twist. I'd rather Darian had fucked me than let this monster touch me. But Darian was dead, killed on our wedding day, on that bloody altar, by the same man my father tortured for years. The irony was too twisted, too real.
He climbed onto the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight, snapping me out of my haze. I pushed back, but he was faster, pinning my wrists above my head with one hand. His face was cold, no emotion, just a blank mask. His presence choked me, made it hard to breathe.
"Please don't!" I whispered, tears spilling as I forced the words out. He just smirked, like my pain was something to savor.
"This is just the beginning, Seraphina. Pray for worse," he snarled, his voice low, dripping with venom.
His hand slid up my thigh, rough and steady, claiming me. I didn't shake, didn't beg. I just let him, let him treat me like my father treated every slave—used, broken, nothing.
"You belong to me, Seraphina, a slave," he growled, his voice scraping my skin.
I swallowed hard, fear mixing with something dark I didn't want to name. His breath was hot on my neck, his lips brushing my skin, and I flinched, hating the feel of him.
His other hand moved slowly, tracing from my collarbone to my wrist, pinning my hands tighter. His eyes burned, dark and hungry, terrifying.
"You're disgusting to me, Seraphina," he spat, his voice thick with cruel joy. "I'll take great pleasure in ripping the only pure thing you got and watching you cry for days."
In one brutal second, his cock pushed inside me, breaking through my core.
A gasp tore from my lips, pain searing as I lay there, helpless, unable to scream or fight.
It was like I wasn't me anymore, like I was watching from outside my body, seeing him destroy me.
He moved hard, each thrust a dull ache, claiming me like I was just a thing he owned. My body rocked under him, but I felt nothing—just empty, hollowed out, and powerless.
I stared at the ceiling, trying not to feel his weight, the way his cock filled me, stretching my walls with every fast, brutal thrust.
He let out a low growl, thrusting deep and hard, with every form of roughness.
Skin hit against skin with so much strength that only a hybrid possessed.
But I closed my lips tight. I bite my lips to suppress the pain.
The way his thrust was deep, strong, and sharp, like he wanted to break me.
He wanted to make me feel every single pain my father had caused me.
Like this was him marking his territory.
That I belonged to him, and he would make me know that in every ironic way.
The thrust was getting harder, but something… was slowly building up within me… something I couldn't identify.
Then he pulled out, pulling with so much force that I got smacked by the emptiness of his cock filling me up.
And he stepped back from the bed. His cock was still hard, but he didn't release. I lay there, confused, my body aching, wondering why he didn't finish. Wasn't that the point—to mark me, smear his filth inside me?
His eyes met mine, cold, full of disgust.
"Leave my presence!" he commanded, his voice slicing through the thick air filled with sex.
I grabbed my torn robe, hands shaking, tears blinding me as I clutched it to my chest.
My legs wobbled as I slid off the bed, every step burning. Then the door opened, and she walked in—that woman from earlier, my pack, from the council. Her eyes lit up, excited, like she loved seeing me broken.
"Hmm, dear Alpha," she purred, glancing at me for a second, her lips curling.
"You called for me?" Her gaze shifted to Draven, hungry.
"Oooh, you fucked her good, ready for slavery. Guess you couldn't release properly. Let me."
I froze, watching her kneel, grabbing Draven's cock without him asking. And I watched her slide it into her mouth, her tongue rolling around it like a pop, moaning, but his eyes remained on me, cold, empty.
"I said leave!" he growled, grabbing onto her head in a fist and grunting with satisfaction.
I clutched my robe, throwing it over my body as I stumbled out, my legs barely holding me. The guards escorted me back to my room, their faces blank. I shut the door and fell against it, sliding to the floor as sobs tore through me, raw and unstoppable. My body hurt, my heart was shredded, and the hole he'd dug in me was too deep to ever fix.