Chapter 45 Chapter 45. Endure the Long Night
Zephyr pinched Zoria’s chin and forced her to lift her face and look straight at him. Zoria lowered her eyes, her lashes trembling. That timid look of hers made him want nothing more than to pull her into his arms and trample her at will, as if bullying her could bring him a twisted kind of pleasure.
Zephyr lowered his voice, cold as ice. “Zoria, did you forget what I told you before?”
Zoria immediately stopped struggling. She thought of her father, who was still in prison. She had no way to fight the male standing before her.
Zephyr let out a soft, contemptuous laugh. Faced with a weak mixed-blood Omega like Zoria, his patience felt utterly unnecessary.
Zoria trembled as she opened her eyes and looked at the naked, humiliating smile on Zephyr’s face. She could even read a sentence in his gaze. “Zoria, how can you be this disgusting.”
That was something Zephyr had said to her countless times before. He would look at her body’s instinctive responses with disdain and call her disgusting, leaving her drowned in shame and humiliation.
She remembered all of it with painful clarity, as if it had happened just yesterday.
Zephyr bent down and viciously bit into her neck. The rough action yanked Zoria out of her spiraling, painful thoughts.
She shrank back, trying to dodge him, but Zephyr’s heavy voice sounded right by her ear. “How dare you space out while you’re having sex with me?”
“Is your wound still not healed?” Zephyr’s voice was hoarse, his gaze terrifying, as if he wanted to swallow her whole. “Zoria, are you doing this on purpose? Do you think that just because your wound isn’t healed, I won’t touch you?”
When Zoria had been in the hospital, her wound had scabbed over long ago. How could it still not be healed now? No matter how he thought about it, Zephyr could only reach one conclusion.
It was because Zoria, an Omega who was half-werewolf and half-human, had once torn open a wound that had just healed, simply because she did not want to have sex with him.
The first time she used that pitiful trick, he had felt heartache for her. If she dared do the same thing a second time, all he wanted was to sneer at her and say that she was only bringing suffering upon herself.
“Zoria, don’t cry!”
Those words echoed over and over in her ears. Zoria bit down hard on the back of her hand, but she no longer even had the strength to cry out in pain. She was like a torn leaf, battered by a storm throughout the night.
Zephyr leaned in close, his hot breath brushing her ear, his low voice dripping with malice. “You like blood so much, don’t you? Fine. I’ll satisfy you.”
“No… Zephyr, don’t…” Zoria choked, her eyes wide with terror.
“Don’t?” He curled his lips into a smirk and tore apart the thin fabric on her body with his hand. “Your body is shaking like this, you little liar. Your mouth says no, but look here.” A rough hand slid down. “You’re already soaked.”
Zoria cried without a sound, desperately trying to clamp her legs together, only for him to pry them apart with ease. “You belong to me, Zoria. A toy. A pet. You don’t have the right to refuse.”
A hard thrust came down, painful and hollow. Zephyr let out a satisfied growl. “This is what truly belongs to me. Your blood, your tears, all of it belongs to me.”
He began to move violently, each forceful motion as if it were tearing apart her fragile body. “Cry. Scream. Let me hear your voice!” Zephyr roared, his hand gripping her waist so tightly it could bruise.
“I… I hate you…” Zoria whimpered, her consciousness fading.
“Hate me?” Zephyr laughed harshly, his pace growing even more frenzied. “The more you hate me, the better. At least then you’ll never forget the feeling of being possessed by me.”
The storm of lust went on without end. Zoria could only squeeze her eyes shut, sinking into the pain and humiliation he inflicted on her.
That night, all Zoria could do was whisper to herself, “Zoria, just hold on a little longer… you can endure it…”
The next morning, Zephyr got out of bed. He went to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. When he came out, he glanced at the bed.
Zoria was still unconscious. Her small body was curled up in the blanket, drawn tight, her eye sockets still faintly red.
When she slept, Zoria was obedient in a way that felt almost strange. She barely moved at all, looking like a weak little rabbit he could pull into his arms and stroke however he pleased.
Zephyr walked to the head of the bed and slipped his hand beneath the warm covers, gently stroking Zoria’s back. His mood was fairly good at that moment.
But the instant the thought crossed his mind that this body of hers had once been touched by someone else, Zephyr’s expression darkened. The hand resting at her waist tightened without thinking. The pain jolted Zoria awake.
Zoria clutched the blanket and shrank back to avoid his hand, but Zephyr roughly grabbed her wrist and yanked it out from under the covers.
Zephyr frowned, his eyes burning with anger. She had just woken up and she was already dodging him. What was she trying to do?
That sharp pull happened to press against the wound on Zoria’s hand. She winced and let out a soft groan.
Zephyr looked at the injury on her hand. His voice was still hoarse from sleep. “How did you end up like this?”
He had already noticed the wound the night before but had not asked about it. Seeing it again now, he questioned her almost offhandedly.
“…I did it myself,” Zoria murmured. She tried to pull her hand back, but Zephyr only gripped it tighter.
“You really are an idiot,” Zephyr said coldly, mocking her as he let go. “There’s medicine in the house. Why didn’t you use it? Who are you trying to show these ruined hands of yours to?”