Page 100 of Nocturn

“So you turned to a male in a fit of jealousy?” His irises bloomed. In the same breath, he slammed me against the wall, hands squeezing my shoulders.

Words escaped me as I reeled. Aches spiked outward from the point of impact along my shoulder blades.

“I did not!” I screamed.

“And you will never,” he hissed. With one hand, he yanked the skirt of my dress, splitting it right down the middle.

Such anger. Such . . . such a frustrating man.

I yanked at the front of his trousers until his length bobbed free. If he was going to claim me, I would claim him in return.

“Pose it however you like, but you are mine.”

“Go to the Hollows!” I shouted at him, the insult spilling out for the first time in my life.

He snarled with a frightening baring of his fangs. His hands clamped on my thighs, and my legs spread as he lifted me. His fangs flashed, sharp and intimidating.

Then he struck.

Fangs burrowed into my throat with startling speed, the sting giving way to unbelievable pleasure. The sensitivity between my legs turned into a dull throb that gathered moisture. I arched my hips to get closer, wanting more of him.

“Make me yours,” I moaned, clamping my fingers into his shoulders.

He snarled against my throat, then he lifted me higher. Blood stained his mouth and the prod of his length found my channel.

Not wasting another moment, he slid inside me with a harsh thrust. Hard enough to steal my breath. He thrust again, the speed applying friction to my channel. I whimpered, writhing under him as I lifted my hips to meet his harsh invasion.

But there was something different in the hitch of his hips. He rammed into my sex again, all the way to his knot.

Spots began to dance before my eyes.

He seemed maddened. Something became startlingly clear—he had not used the entirety of his strength when we’d been together.

The pleasure turned to pain, too much pain. He rammed into me again, and something popped.

“S-stop,” I whimpered, trying not to vomit.

Intense agony sliced across every nerve ending. My insides felt like they were set aflame. Cassiel moved, and it wrenched a scream free. I slapped and shoved Cassiel.

But he did not stop.

“Mine,” he snarled, his lewd pants puffing against my cheek.

A haze coated my mind, and numbness had begun to spread, mingling with the pain. Sobs caught in my throat. My head drooped to the side.

“Mine.”

I wheezed out a breath, the pain too much for me to be able to speak. The taste of copper spread on my tongue. I could no longer feel my lower half.

Consciousness faded in and out.

I drifted into nothingness.

“Mortal?” Cassiel’s whisper floated forward, then, “Amara?” I must be dreaming. He never said my name.

A smile tugged at my lips.

“Amara,” he whispered, his hand clasping the side of my face, pulling me away from the agonizing torment. “Mortal, open your eyes.”