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Isolde.
"No one. Not the gods, and especially not you," she spat through gritted teeth.
Isolde didn't understand why he was doing this. No one had ever made her this scared and needy before except Draco.
She gasped and shuddered, hearing how the dagger slipped in and out of her heat.
Her skin still perspired greatly from the heat saturating the room, but it was Draco's heat that rendered her helpless. Before the male, she was powerless. Her body already proved it, seeing how her clit throbbed and her entrance spilled waters of need at the sight of Draco, her nipples hard as rock.
When he careened his face close to hers, their lips nearly touching, Isolde felt the strong urge to paste her lips on his and kiss him. Gods be damned, she'd always wanted to know how they tasted.
For a moment there, she thought Draco would lick her lips with his tongue, but he only floated it in the air, making her sigh in disappointment.
Now he was fucking her sex, thrusting the dagger into her walls, and she stupidly clenched against it. Her rational mind corroded, giving way to her instincts.
Her instincts said to trust him, but could she ever truly trust a man known for his bloodlust? His skill of butchering people? Making an artwork from them?
Isolde's mind warred, but desire won, and blatantly, she rode the dagger. She had the urge to scream for more, but she bit on her lip, trapping the plea back in her mouth. She'd never let him know she enjoyed his torture. Roga was right after all; Draco wasn't like other males. He thrived on pain and pleasure.
She craned her head and saw the blood dripping from his palm. His eyes gleamed, taking it in. When he looked over at her, a dark grin split his lips, his cheeks crinkling.
"Alright, let's see how long you can pull that off, shall we?" He said hoarsely, sheathing the entire hilt of the dagger into her.
"Hmm..." She whimpered, the sweat cascading down her temple and into her eyes.
"Who...is your lord, mouthy?" He roared. The steam enveloping the room filled their lungs, but it affected Isolde more. She panted, looking him hard in the face. Then she burst into laughter.
"I told you no one is my lord..." her words trailed off when Draco pulled out the dagger. She felt empty, clenching the air needily.
He rose up against her, his lips pursed in anger. Isolde figured it was as a result of her not admitting he was her lord and owner. She wasn't a property that could be owned. She was a lycan; never would she admit to such.
She looked into Draco's eyes resolutely, her heart pounding against the steel of his armor. Draco's hair blanketed both their faces as he snarled.
"I own you, mouthy." His covered hand slipped down her body, searching until he found her clit. He positioned the hilt of the dagger well against her clit. Wet sounds echoed in their ears as he slowly pet her clit with the dagger.
Draco had bled so much, but his pains did not matter to him. What mattered was the lustful look on Isolde's face as he tortured her like he'd never done before.
Though he's the one torturing her, he's equally being tortured.
"From the very first day you stepped into my chambers, you became mine, little bird." His words sounded at the back of Isolde's mind.
All she could hear and feel was the gentle sweep of the dagger over her clit. It felt so good and embarrassing at the same time.
Her mouth dropped open as she moaned, bouncing closer to the sweet torture.
"You became mine even before you signed that contract, mouthy." He moved the dagger down her folds and slipped it in a little before pulling out.
Isolde gave a sigh of discontent. She daggered him a look of disgust.
"You desperately want to claim me as yours. Why don't you prove it to me like a real man does instead of hiding behind your armor?"
Hearing that, Draco pulled away entirely, tormented and broken. He moved restlessly as Isolde's words rang in his ears. Prove it like a real man does?
How would he do that?
His heart boiled like it was put on fire. He definitely knew what she meant, but he couldn't do it. Does that make him less of a man?
A man who couldn't be with a woman wasn't a man; was that it?
As Draco's mind warred with thoughts, Isolde watched him. It wasn't her intention to blurt such words, but she did. The shock that took over Draco's expression stunned her to the bones, and she began to truly wonder why the lord always wore armor around her.
Since she came into Abbator, Isolde hadn't seen him touch her or come close to her without this heavy steel.
At that moment, she remembered one of Alfos' tips for survival, never touch the lord.
She looked at him immediately when those words occurred to her, and she realized something wasn't right.
Why couldn't the lord touch her? Why was he always wearing armor?
She jerked when Draco speedily paced back into her space and growled.
"A lord doesn't need to prove himself to people like you! I prove my affection for just one man, and that is Edrand." He reached over and clasped the strand of her wet hair in his hand, tugging it enough to assert his dominance but not enough to hurt. "And tomorrow I want you to go to him, kneel, and apologize for what you did!"
Isolde couldn't deny this side of him made her hot in the right places. However, she wasn't ever going to grovel before Edrand.
"You can burn in hell with him. I will never grovel to your male!" She spat, making Draco growl.
He pulled away again, his mind racing.
He wanted to prove something to her. To prove that he owned Isolde. He wanted to always remind her who was in charge. Isolde began to hum a mockery tune under her voice, taunting him. She wanted to see what Draco would do. As she watched his rigid posture, the same question from earlier hammered back in her mind.
She needed to know why he always covered himself up around her. Her eyes widened, blinking rapidly when she saw Draco drawing closer with the dagger again.
Her heart sank the moment he placed the tip of the dagger onto her torso. He held her eyes as he pushed the dagger further enough to draw blood.
"What are you doing?" She spat in a hoarse voice.
Draco gave her a maniacal laugh, eyes heated as they bored into hers. "What else? I'm proving the fact that I own you."
He used the dagger immediately after that to carve something onto Isolde's torso. She yelled and thrashed all the way, her skin ripped, bruised, and throbbed. She cursed Draco until she lost her breath and slumped against the slab.
Tears coated her eyes, dripping onto her cheeks. All that, and yet Draco didn't stop.
He pulled backward after he was done and smiled sinisterly at his work. Blood dripped from her torso over the slab. She took in a shaky breath and raised her tired head to look at the bloody carving.
She gasped at the word and stared back up at Draco, who stood with his teeth flashing. Isolde couldn't believe what he'd just carved into her skin. The word "Mine."
"How could you!?" She yelped, tears dripping from her eyes while Draco smirked.
"I'm not one to be messed with, mouthy," He growled.
TBC.