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He was darkness.

He was my own personal demon sent from hell.

“No?” he asked. His voice held no emotion anymore. He released my legs and straightened his body as his strong hands moved to the zipper on his jeans. I shut my eyes and my jaw trembled when I felt the bed dip. “You can try to kill yourself, Blackbird; I will keep you alive. When I tell you to eat, you eat. Do you understand?”

“Please stop, please stop, please stop,” I begged as his hands grasped my thighs again so his denim-covered hips could settle between them, my voice growing louder with each word. “No, no. Stop!” I screamed when one of his hands trailed up to my hip, his grip tightening. “Stop!”

I squeezed my eyes harder, not wanting to see any part of this. This can’t be happening to me.

His other hand slowly moved to the inside of my thigh, my entire body now shaking with fear and hatred and disgust.

“I understand,” I yelled. “Just please stop. Don’t do this.”

His hand stilled,

and seconds that felt like lifetimes of torture passed by before he released me and slowly covered my trembling body with his own. I flinched when his lips met my ear, but otherwise I didn’t move.

“I own you, Blackbird,” he said in a deceptively soothing voice.

I let my head fall away from him, and opened my eyes to stare at the same wall I’d looked at all day as I responded, “Never.”

His fingers gripped my face and forced me to look at him, and like before, he looked murderous. Beautiful and destructive.

I had been wrong. He wasn’t a demon. A demon wasn’t nearly as evil or dark as this man. My jaw shook under his tight grip, but I still managed to whisper, “The devil will never own me.”

That beautiful mouth curved into a wicked grin, and I hated it as much as I hated the man. Just before he pushed away from me and rose from the bed, he breathed, “We’ll see.”

Chapter 8

Day 2 with Blackbird

Lucas

I paced the length of the living area on the upper level for nearly an hour after I left Blackbird and still couldn’t seem to find the strength to stop.

That had been her first lesson. I had shown her who was in control, as I knew I had to. I had taken the first step in breaking her.

William was under the impression I’d done more than I had, and he was satisfied.

I wanted to die.

I wanted to tear my heart out if it would get her screams out of my head, if it would get that look of hatred and brokenness out of her green eyes.

She had called me the devil, and I felt like it after tonight. But she would never hate me more than I hated myself.

I dropped down to a low squat and ran my hands roughly through my hair and over my face as I tried to do so many things: force myself to go downstairs, talk myself out of what I was so close to doing, and get her damn screams out of my head.

A roar of frustration filled the room, and I was storming away within seconds. Only this time it wasn’t to continue pacing—I needed to try to get her to eat one more time even though it was nearly midnight. She had looked so fragile and pale. Her lips had been so chapped and dry. I couldn’t get the image out of my head, and I was fucking terrified to think how much worse she might be if I left her until morning like I was supposed to.

“They must stay isolated for at least eight hours after a lesson,” William always said. “It’s a lesson for them, and you will look weak if you go to them before they would come crawling to you.”

As soon as I had some water, fruit, and a sandwich made, I went back to her room and unlocked the door. Unlike last time, I opened the door and stepped in slowly to give her time to prepare for me.

The lamps were still on even though she looked like she was asleep. She was curled up on the bed with her back facing me, as she had been most of the times I’d come in today, and again she didn’t turn around.

I set the plate and water on the nightstand, and reached for her shoulder, but withdrew my hand before I could touch her. “Blackbird,” I said gently. My hands fisted when I noticed her rapid breathing, but I knew we had a long road ahead of us before she wasn’t afraid of me.

Her fear . . . it was something I had been prepared for. Something I’d been trained for. I just hadn’t been prepared for how much it would bother me.

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