XI

XI
My scalp screamed as his grip tightened, every strand of hair pulling taut against the skin of my skull. I swear he could hear each and every gulp of saliva that went down my throat.

My eyes were wide. Ping-ponging, from the knife a few inches from my fingers to the door. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

There were three options placed before me. One: kill. Two: run. Three: speak the truth. It didn't matter whichever one I decided to choose, it was all going to end the same way: punishment.

Or even much worse: death.

Option one was a joke.

I couldn’t out-speed a demon lord whose reflexes were forged in hellfire.

Option two meant getting dragged back by my ankles before I even cleared the dining hall threshold.

I swallowed down my throat and I swear he must have heard that gulp like it was an explosion going off.

It sounded like a confession all on its own, a ragged hitch of breath practically giving me away before he even had the chance to truly ask again.

Every other time Ziarah had interrupted, I’d wished her death.

I’d cursed at her, wished to rip her tongue out and gouge her eyes. But now? I wished she’d come knocking on the door, breaking through. I wished she would barge in and interrupt us again.

“Riley…” Seneca whispered.

I swallowed.

“...I am a dragon Lord…”

Tingles exploded as he yanked my hair further back. For a second, I thought he was going to rip it off my scalp, but he didn’t. He was standing just right behind me, his fingers in my hair, pressed against my skin, and all I could feel was this… heat.

Rage?

Jealousy?

I couldn’t tell which was which. But the heat burned enough to make me whimper.

“...Which of my brothers have been seeing you?”

Again, I swallowed.

My heart was pounding so hard against my ribcage, I felt like I was going to combust. My eyes were filled with tears and burning. They remained fixated on the door. In the far distance. My fingers dug into the edges of the seat, ass pressed flat, core burning, chest wheezing.

“Orion?”

“No!” I answered fast. Maybe a little too fast.

“Malrik?”

“I–I I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sen–”

“You seem pretty tense.”

“I am not… I am not tense.”

“You seem pretty on the edge for someone who has no idea what I am talking about…. You think I don’t see…”

“No one made that allegation.”

He moved. The sound of his footsteps shuffled softly. Closer. At this point, I really was going to combust. Heat. That was all I could feel. Heat.

As his nose brushed against the sensitive ridge of my neck, his lips grazing my skin, his voice grew thick and velvety, humming a vibrating threat straight into my bone marrow.

“Yet…” He said, voice throaty, vibrating in a hum against my neck. “You sound like you’re never beating that allegation.”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“Riley…”

My breath shook. “Hmmm.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“I never said anything about you being–”

His fingers yanked hard enough for me to bite back a whimper. The punishment. I could almost feel it coming. And God, the thought to grab the knife off the table got even much louder. Grab it. Grab it. Grab it. Grab it. GRAB IT.

My head hit the surface of the table with a dull, ringing thud.

The suddenness of the violence ripped the air straight from my lungs, but before my brain could even register the shock, his free hand descended.

Smack.

I SCREAMED.

The sound tore out of my chest, raw and feral, as my ass burned like I had been branded with a live coal. The humiliating, blistering impact sent a white-hot shockwave straight up my spine, rattling every bone in my body while I remained pinned flat to the chair.

My fingers twitched violently against the edge of the mahogany, brushing the cold steel of the knife handle. Now. Grab it now—

“Which of my brothers,” Seneca murmured, his heavy, scorching chest pressing flush against my back, his teeth grazing the shell of my ear as he trapped my hand against the wood, “has been laying their hands on you?”

“No o–”

Smack.

I swallowed the scream this time. Refusing to let it out.

“Which of my brothers have been laying their hands on you?”

My chest wheezed. My eyes glassed over, watching the steel in the distance. I could pick up the knife right now. I could pick up the knife and slit through his throat.

And even though I could feel his anger, I wasn’t angry. Instead, a heat coiled in my lower belly, that as the smack came. Again, and again, and again, and again, I felt a bead of juice sliding down my thighs.

The shame should burn more than the sound of his hand smacking against my ass, but that wasn’t it. I didn’t feel shame.

I felt nothing but shame.

And by the time, Seneca lifted his hand, and stopped his assault. I was a wheezing, breathless thing, soaked in tears, sweat, and… juice rolling down my thighs and soaking through my pants.

I stayed completely still on the table. Not moving. Not even twitching. My chest expanded with a wheeze. Just one. And over my head, I watched Seneca enjoy the little moment of misery he’d put me in.

His hands weren’t on me anymore.

Not digging into my scalp.

Not smacking my ass.

But God, I wanted him to touch me again. Softly, violently, hard, I didn’t care. As long as he was touching me. I wanted it.

When he spoke again, his voice was a mix of a pant and a growl.

“You’re mine…”

He paced.

I heard the shuffling of footsteps.

“You’re mine.”

Heavy breaths.

“Do you hear that, Riley? Do you hear that? I do not want them coming close to you. I do not want any of them laying a finger on you. Not Orion, not…”

A pause. His teeth gritted.

“Not Malrik. Not a single demon under this heaven or in hell. I want to be the one. I get to be the one. I get to be the one who touches you.”

The pacing stopped. My ears strained.

A smack slapped against my ass before I could even try to understand what the fuck was going on. I jolted, a whimper escaping my throat.

“I’m the one who gets to please you, fuck you, have you, breed you. I am the one who gets complete irrevocable access to you.”

He leaned in close enough for his back to press against mine. For the harsh smell of sweat with a mix of sulfur to fill my nostrils.

“I am the one who gets to OWN YOU. And you better know that if I catch any of my brothers near you, I’ll rip their throats out, and let them watch me take you while they gurgle on their blood. I own you. Till death, till the depths of hell, I own you.”

That should have been it, that should have been the end of it. I expected him to pull away immediately after that. But he didn't. While I was still laid flat on the table, wordless, unmoving, breathless, his fingers found the band of my pants. My eyes widened. But before I could even move. Before I could even say a word, the fabric around my waist was already gone.