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“You’re going to take the pill like a good little fiancée,” he growled in my ear. “A good and proper future Upper wife. If you want to stay engaged to a Remington, you will submit to whatever I tell you. Do you understand?”
Rage flooded through my system like an adrenaline overload. I couldn’t breathe, and I was going to pass out if he didn’t let me go, but I could barely respond. I didn’t want to give in to his demands.
“Do you understand?” he repeated, and one hand moved down the front of me and under my white school blouse. I gasped at the feel of his fingers on my flesh. It was horrifying and yet felt good. I wanted to shake him off, but I couldn’t control the way I was responding.
With just one arm tight across my chest, I was able to draw some air into my lungs, and the darkness eased off at the edges of my vision. I didn’t want to respond to him, though. I hated him, and I hated the way he made me feel. Like I wanted to arch my back and press my ass against his hard cock. I could still feel it digging into my ass as he held me there.
“Just fucking let go,” he growled again. “Stop this. You’re being insane. I want my Willow back, the sweet little sparrow who was pliable and would do what she was told.”
“You’re never getting her back,” I hissed, and he shoved his hand higher, cupping my breast as I fought the urge to give into him.
He rolled my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and I wanted to groan, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t let my body respond to his assault.
“Yes, I am,” he grunted and squeezed my nipple flat. Pain spiked in my head and flared out of my breast, threaded throughout my entire body, and wrapped itself firmly around my heart. He kept squeezing and twisting until I felt like he was about to tear my nipple completely off. “You will re-learn how to obey. You will learn your place. I will train you all over again if I have to.”
And with that, he released me, spun me around, and stared down at me. “And I will love every fucking minute of it, little sparrow.”
He caught my hair in his fist and held me in place as he crushed my lips with his. With his other hand, he took mine and pressed it against his rock-hard cock. I could feel his pulse in his massive shaft, and I hated that I wanted to feel it.
I hated him so much. He represented this bizarre world of control and domination I was barely surviving in, and he represented somebody I was afraid of. I longed for Rome or Luke, two men who felt like I knew them. Like I loved them.
My fiancé was a stranger to me, and yet as he forced himself on me, he unlocked hidden desires that worked against me.
And so, because of Alexander Remington, I grew to hate that part of myself. The betrayer who loved the way he forced me to stroke his hard-on. Who craved the way he hurt me and made me cry. The promise of a brutality that would cause so much pain that it would become sweet, torturous pleasure.
I hated all of it, so I took his lip in my teeth, bit down, and fought against him again.
“Fuck,” he swore as I nipped him, and he pulled back, keeping his fist wrapped in my hair so I couldn’t escape. He lifted his other hand and wiped away a smear of blood. I could still taste it in my mouth, metallic and tangy. “You’re a nasty little bitch sometimes. I don’t know what was rattled around in the accident, but it isn’t good for you, Willow. It’s going to get you into trouble.”
“It wasn’t the accident. I’ve always been like this,” I replied defiantly.
“My Willow hasn’t,” he said and scanned my face as if looking for parts of my former self. “She never would disobey like this. She knew what would happen.”
I opened my mouth to say something back at him, some snappy line that would reposition my defense and allow me to maintain my power, but he’d had enough. His eyes went dull and lifeless, and almost in a daze, he swung me around and shoved me to the floor by my hair.
I cried out and hit the floor with a loud, crunching sound. I was on my hands and knees before I knew it, my bones jolting at the contact. Alexander hunched over me, his hand still a fist that controlled me as he pushed me closer to the scattered blue pills.
“Just for all of this, I want you to take two of them,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “Eat them up, little sparrow, before I break your wings.”
He pushed me to the floor, my face mashed into the biggest pile of scattered pills. He shoved until I reluctantly drew my tongue across the hardwood and scooped up two of the little blue tablets.
He held me there, his hand in my hair and his knee on my shoulder until I dissolved them both under my tongue.
“Good girl,” he said and released me all at once. My freedom washed over me with such relief that it was intoxicating. “Now, get the rest of this mess cleaned up before you go to bed. I’ll check on you after dinner.”
He stalked away and left me alone in my room, a crumpled heap of distress and tears on the expensive floor. I somehow managed to push myself up by my hands, gather each pill, one by one, and put them in the bottle.
I found the lid under the edge of my dresser and another couple of pills near my walk-in closet entrance.
As I finally capped the bottle and set it on the desk with the other medication, my eyes were growing heavy, and sleep like sand trapped under my lids was scratching at my conscious self.
I barely made it to my bed and flung myself across before I was pulled back into the darkness.
Back to familiarity and comfort, where I could be the Willow, I knew I was.
Where I could fight.
And love.
