Page 64 of She Who Holds My Wrath

Recognition slams into me like a physical blow, knocking the breath from my lungs as horns emerge first, sweeping upwards in a shape I would know anywhere. Ink-dark tattoos coil across broad shoulders and down powerful arms, patterns etched into skin I’ve traced with my own hands. A large, muscled frame is bound to the chair, tension carved into every line of his body even in stillness. For a heartbeat, my mind refuses to accept it. Refuses to make the connection. But then his head lifts, and everything inside me shatters.

Korithax.

He sits, bound to the metal chair with a gag strapped across his mouth. His wrists chained, and his ankles secured to the floor. He thrashes like a wild beast, eyes burning with fury. The heat of his power surges through the room until the air vibrates itself.

Terror strikes me hard and fast.

No, I don’t belong here. I don’t belong with Kaelith. I belong in Zeriavoss, I belong with Korithax. I belong to Korithax. He is my king, my best friend, my husband, my mate.

Kaelith steps in front of me again, his shadow swallowing the light. He hooks a long finger under my chin, forcing my gaze up to meet his. “Come, my little flower,” he murmurs, voice like poison. “On your knees for daddy.”

Revulsion ripples through me, but my body moves on its own accord. Sliding off the bed, my knees hit the floor with a soft thud. Kaelith stares down at me, his smirk lighting up as the starlight in his eyes pulses like he’s feeding on my submission. My hands lift of their own accord, trembling as they find the waistband of his trousers.

Inside, everything is chaos as emotions battle each other. Panic versus lust, hate versus need. It’s all consuming and terrifying, like a storm leaving me torn in half. I don’t want this, yet I do want this. My body aches to obey, to please, to surrender. I can’t tell where my will ends and his begins. I try to glance towards Korithax, but Kaelith’s grip tangles in my hair, holding my head still.

The world shifts suddenly, and I’m no longer kneeling. I’m stood somewhere at the edge of the room, watching from somewhere outside myself.

On the bed, beneath a soft glow of aurora light, I see… me. Naked. Straddling Kaelith. My heart seizes at the sight. I watch in horror as other me grinds atop him, her body slick with sweat, her voice breaking into moans that don’t sound like my own. Korithax thrashes against his chains, the sound of metal clanging through the chamber as he roars behind his gag. Kaelith grips her hips, pulling her down harder, moaning my name like a prayer.

But it isn’t me. It can’t be me. Her hair is honey-blonde, not streaked with silver like mine. My plump stomach and smaller breasts are gone. Her stomach is smoother, her breasts fuller. She’s almost perfect—an imitation sculpted to mock me.

It’s like I’m floating, trapped above the scene, watching the performance of my own desecration. And I can do nothing but helplessly watch. I try to scream, to shout, to tell Korithax it isn’t me. But it’s useless. He can’t hear me. I’m here, but I’m not.

The scene before me shifts again, flickers, then resets. Scene after scene plays out in sickening rhythms. Kaelith takes, and takes, and takes, whilst Korithax growls and rattles against the chains that hold him. I’m stuck in a never-ending loop of what looks like Kaelith’s wet dreams and all I can do is just wait for it to be over.

Ice cold water crashes over me, stealing the air from my lungs in a violent gasp. My skin burns from the chill, and I thrash instinctively, chains clinking as icy rivulets snake down my body.

My eyes fly open, my breath coming in rapid, heaving pants as I try to figure out what the fuck just happened.

“I… I’m sorry,” a soft voice stammers.

The world blurs before coming into focus, and standing there, trembling, is Kaelith’s favourite VeliNymph. “What… what the hell was that for?” I rasp, stuttering from the cold.

“You wouldn’t wake,” she says quickly. “It was a desperate attempt, please forgive me.” Her voice quivers, threaded with panic.

I frown, dragging my gaze across the room as my heartbeat tries to calm itself. “Where’s Kaelith?” My voice splinters on his name, the memories of the nightmare I was trapped in flash through my mind.

My body shudders violently, but it has nothing to do with the cold. I can still feel him. His hands. His breath. The weight of him crowding in, trapping me. His voice in my ear, low and seductive. That laugh, ergh, that laugh, curling through my skull like poison. My skin crawls as if something filthy is still clinging to me, something I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to scrub away. I wish I could just wrap my arms around myself, scratch at my flesh with my nails until every inch of me was free of his touch.

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. But my body doesn’t know that. My body remembers everything. The heat, the humiliation, the way I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t wake up, couldn’t escape while he made me watch, made him watch.

My stomach lurches, bile burning at the back of my throat, threatening to spill the minimal contents of my stomach all over the frozen flooring. A dream. It was just a dream. A nightmare. Something Kaelith forced into my mind, twisted and cruel and calculated to break me.

I repeat it silently like a mantra. Not real. Not real. Not real. But the phantom imprint of his cruelty lingers, seared into nerve and muscle, leaving me shaking, hollow and violated in a way that feels far too tangible for something that supposedly never happened.

“He’s… getting ready in his chambers,” she whispers. “He plans to address his people in the throne room soon. I told him I was ill, so I could come here.”

“Right,” I mutter, trying to piece it all together through the fog of exhaustion. “So why are you here, and why the ice bath from hell?” I growl.

She paces, the now empty jug clutched to her chest like a shield, her knuckles paler than the rest of her skin where her fingers dig into the metal. “I need you to trust me,” she blurts on a broken voice. “It is important that you trust me.”

The raw fear in her eyes hits me harder than the chains biting into my wrists ever could. She looks small. Fragile, even. Like one wrong move will shatter her completely. Every instinct I have screams to protect her. It doesn’t matter that I’m the one strung up and bleeding, powerless and trapped. She’s the one shaking. She’s the one looking at me like I’m the safest option for her in this realm of nightmares.

So, I swallow my own fear. Swallow down my pain and my rage. I smooth my expression as best I can and stay silent, offering her a small, steady nod. The kind meant to reassure, to say ‘I’m here,’ even when I don’t know if I can actually help.

Her throat bobs as she swallows hard. “Right. Well, you may not know this, but your husband, uh, Korithax, helped me once. He threatened Kaelith when he saw he was using me.”

Despite knowing exactly the type of man Kaelith is, her words still hit me directly in the chest. “Using you?” I whisper.