Page 157 of She Who Holds My Wrath

“Make a mess for me?” He grins as he looks up at me, his face glistening. “Yes princess, you did. Such a good girl.”

Heat floods my cheeks at his praise, and I watch him with a lust-filled gaze as he lifts me easily and lays me down on the cold floor, atop our discarded clothes.

“What’s the safe word, little flower?” Korithax pants.

My mind flashes back to Luminaria, my pussy throbbing at the memory. “Flower,” I breathe.

His grin turns unmistakably sadistic as he drives himself inside me in one brutal thrust, straight to the hilt. My scream echoes through the dungeon as he relentlessly pounds into me.

Korithax slams a hand over my mouth, his jet-black eyes burning into my soul as he snarls, “Shut that pretty fucking mouth, Daisy. I don’t want anybody else hearing my wife screaming in pleasure or I’ll have to kill them, too. Understood?”

I nod, tears filling my eyes from the overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure as he continues to slam into me.

“Good girl,” he growls into my ear as he lowers his head to the crook of my neck, his canines grazing my skin.

I can feel him holding back despite the savage way he’s fucking into me. I can feel his need to hurt me, to torture me. And a part of me needs that, too. I need to feel something. Anything other than this fucking numbness.

“Hurt me, Korithax,” I whisper.

His head snaps up, his hips stilling as he looks down at me. “What?” He pants.

“Hurt me. Make me bleed. Make me feel, Korithax. I need to feel something.” A tear slides from the corner of my eye, disappearing into my hair.

His eyes soften in understanding for just a moment before he starts moving again.

Leaning down, his lips graze my ear, “Just remember your safe word.”

It’s the last thing he says before he bites down hard into the flesh between my neck and shoulder, his canines piercing the skin with a searing burn. I cry out as my blood spills hot and slick down my skin, while he bites and licks at the wound.

“More,” I beg. “Please, Korithax—more!”

I don’t have to ask twice. His hand clamps around my throat, squeezing just enough to restrict my oxygen as his thrusts turn feral. My back scrapes painfully against the stone floor as he pounds into me, my head turning fuzzy as my air thins.

I dig my nails into his back, dragging hard as my eyes roll. A low ringing fills my ears, and I know I’m seconds away from blacking out.

He releases my throat just before my consciousness is taken away, and I gasp, sucking in air greedily—only for a heartbeat—before his fingers close around my windpipe again. Between my legs, I burn from his brutality, and I can feel him leaving more puncture wounds as his teeth mark my chest and breasts.

Just as before, he releases me on the brink of unconsciousness.

He stares down at me, looking like a god of beasts, his mouth and chin smeared crimson, his hair damp with sweat, muscles flexing as his tattoos shift in the low dungeon light. Gods. This monster of mine is nothing short of pure fucking perfection.

Suddenly, he flips me over, yanking my hips until I’m face down with my ass in the air. He spanks me hard, a sharp cry tearing from my throat as the sting blooms across my skin.

“More, Korithax!” I beg.

I need fear. I need pain. I need feeling, not this numb fucking black emptiness that’s settled inside of me like a plague.

He wraps my hair around his fist, once, twice, before jerking my head back so hard my spine slams into his chest as he continues to fuck into me like a savage. I gasp when I feel the cold kiss of metal against my throat, stinging slightly as he presses a blade to my skin.

“Is this what you need, my filthy, fucked-up flower?” he growls into my ear, eliciting goosebumps across my flesh. “Does my queen need to feel like she’s on the brink of dying.”

“Yes,” I gasp.

He pushes the blade harder, a warm trickle of blood sliding down my neck. “This—this is how I felt when I couldn’t get to you. This is what it felt like when I was trapped in that fucking hellhole.”

His grip on my hair tightens as his thrusts grow more punishing, tears flowing down my cheeks.

“You. Are. Mine,” he seethes, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust. “Mine to love. Mine to break. Mine to own.”