Page 280 of The Luna Duet


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Neri took full advantage of my pain.

Leaping over me, she flew onto her bed and landed on the other side, putting the mattress between us. “Aslan, stop it,” she whisper-hissed. “Enough.”

All I wanted to do was kneel before her and beg for her forgiveness.

I wanted to gather her close and press endless vows into her hair.

Instead, I shot to my feet and lurched like a drunken bear toward her.

She squealed as I grabbed her damaged wrist.

She fought and scratched as I threw her onto her bed.

She went to scream, but I slammed my hand over her mouth, squeezing her cheeks with awful fingers. Looming over her, I used my free hand to shove up her little black dress. “Fight me off. Prove to yourself that you’re strong enough.”

Burying my mouth against her neck, I bit her. Hard.

She yelled under my hand and turned into a little hellcat.

Fighting and kicking, wrestling and brawling.

I struggled to keep hold of her.

Genuine surprise widened my eyes as she managed to knee me in the stomach and shove my mouth off her neck. Punching me in the temple—just a graze but enough to make me dizzy—she scrambled up her bed and grabbed hold of her mosquito net, ready to launch to the floor.

“Not so fast.” Lashing my arm around her waist, I threw her back down again.

Only problem was, she didn’t let go of the net.

The webbing cracked.

The bamboo ring tethered to the ceiling came crashing down on top of us.

We froze for just a breath.

Two fish caught in a net, covered from head to toe.

But then she fought again.

She was slippery and quick, and each time I managed to get a proper hold, she slipped out from under me.

The webbing tangled in my legs. Radiating pain in my cock made me sloppy. The strike to my head made me slow. She was winning. So resilient and quick-thinking.

Pride swelled in my chest.

She was so fucking strong.

If the bastard hadn’t drugged her first, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.

I needed her to see that.

She needed to believe in that because then she’d know that none of this was her fault. It wasn’t because she was beautiful or accepted a drink or went to a house party to get her friend back. She was a victim of cruel circumstance, bad luck, and a rotten fucking criminal.

My heart hammered as she kicked me in the chest, shoved the bamboo ring over my head so the thickest part of the net blinded me, then wriggled to the floor.

I fought with the net, wasting valuable time, struggling to catch a proper breath.

Tearing it away, snarling with fury, I slid off the bed after her. Pillows followed. A blanket caught around my ankle, falling with me.

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