Victoria’s blood still lingered on Zayn’s tongue, the sting of his mark pulsing beneath her skin like victory.
Her body trembled, not from fear, but from triumph. He had marked her. He had chosen her. Finally.
She shifted in his lap, bare thighs clinging to his as she leaned in again, her mouth grazing the edge of his jaw. Her lips parted, breath warm against his skin, and her canines elongated, sharp and glistening.
Now, she thought. ‘Now I’ll make him mine, too.’
She tilted her head, angling her mouth toward the crook of his neck, teeth hovering just above the tender flesh of his shoulder.
But before she could sink them in, Zayn moved.
Unaware of her intent, he stood up from the chair abruptly, lifting her in his arms as if she weighed nothing. Her body jolted, lips snapping shut just shy of his skin.
“I want to finish this somewhere else,” he said roughly, his voice low, unreadable.
Victoria blinked, stunned for only a second. Then she melted into his hold, draping her arms around his shoulders like a crown claiming its throne.
"Of course," she purred. "Anywhere you want."
As he carried her toward the door, Victoria glanced back. Lily lay still on the bed across the room, pale, trembling, eyes half-closed but watching.
Victoria smiled. Not kind. Not soft. Triumphant. A queen claiming her prize.
She let her nails trail slowly down Zayn’s chest, her smirk growing as she whispered just loud enough for Lily to hear.
And then they were gone. The door closed behind them with a dull, final click.
And Lily’s mate mark burned like fire, and her vision blurred.
The mark Zayn had given her, the mark meant to save her life, burned on her neck, searing red-hot against her skin. A silent tear slid down her cheek, and she pressed her hand weakly to the throbbing wound as the door shut behind them.
She was alone, and they were together.
Victoria guided Zayn toward her recovery room, barely able to keep the excitement from her steps.
Finally, she thought.
Finally, he’s choosing me.
The door closed behind them with a soft click.
He walked her backward until her legs hit the edge of the bed. His eyes were hard. His jaw was tight. There was no affection there, no tenderness, only something dark simmering beneath the surface.
Victoria mistook it for hunger.
She smiled seductively, running her hands up his chest and pressing her body against his. "Are you still worried about my injuries?" she teased, voice dripping with syrup. "Maybe you should check for yourself."
She dropped to her knees, her fingers already tugging at the waistband of his trousers, mouth parting in anticipation.
But Zayn grabbed her by the shoulders, not gently, and hauled her up onto the bed like a doll.
Victoria gasped as he spread her legs wide with rough hands, forcing her open, baring her to him completely. She quivered, moaning softly, expecting him to thrust into her.
Instead, he climbed onto the bed, straddling her thighs. His hands found her breasts, kneading them hard enough to leave bruises. His thumbs flicked over her nipples, pinching them until she whimpered.
"Zayn..." she breathed, arching into his touch.
One of Zayn’s hands drifted downward, slow but deliberate, until his fingers brushed against the craving heat between her thighs. Victoria trembled beneath him, her legs instinctively parting wider in silent invitation.
But there was no warning. No tease.
His fingers plunged into her, two at once, stretching her open with a brutal snap that made her gasp and cry out, back arching sharply. The sudden intrusion lit a fire across her nerves, the ache sharp, the pleasure even sharper.
The stretch burned, but it was the kind of pain she craved from him, raw, pulsing, invasive. She moaned, hips lifting to meet the thrust of his hand, chasing the rhythm like an addict starved for more.
Zayn’s fingers curled inside her, rubbing hard against that aching spot deep within. She clenched around him, whimpering, panting, writhing. She felt full. Almost too full.
And then, he added a third finger. A raw, broken cry tore from her throat as her body stretched to accommodate him, the pressure delicious and devastating. His thrusts became rougher, cruel in their pace, unrelenting in depth.
The pain laced with pleasure until it was impossible to tell them apart. Each pump made her legs tremble, her head tip back, her voice caught in her throat.
She was shattering in lust.
Tears welled in her eyes from the pure intensity of it, and still, he didn’t stop, didn’t slow. His fingers pounded into her mercilessly, the wet, obscene sounds of her arousal filling the room.
Her nails dug into his arms, her body tightening around him, begging for something neither of them would name.
And all the while, he watched her, cold, unreadable, like she was a puzzle he’d already solved.
"Please," she gasped and pleaded. "Please, let me cum..."
But just as the pressure inside her coiled, just as her muscles tightened, ready to snap.
She cried out in frustration, reaching for him, but he caught her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand.
With the other, he trailed his fingers over the still-healing wounds across her ribs and hip, the marks left from the dungeon incident. His touch was deceptively gentle at first, a soft brush that made her shiver.
"You’re still hurt," he murmured, voice low and cold.
Victoria shivered beneath him. "Only a little." She tilted her throat for him and submitted completely to him. "You can find out for yourself."
Zayn’s fingers pressed harder against the bruised flesh, and Victoria gasped sharply, biting her lower lip to suppress a moan.
The pain made his cock twitch.
He pressed harder still, watching as her body twisted beneath him, as her face twisted into a delicious mask of agony and arousal.
"You ," she whispered, panting. "I knew you would. You always liked it rough, even before..."
She didn’t need to finish. The past hung between them like smoke.
Zayn lowered his mouth to the fresh wound along her ribcage and licked the blood that welled up where he had pressed. fre(e)webnove.l.c.om
Victoria cried out, the sound was desperate and needy.
Her whole body writhed beneath him, desperate for more, chasing every flick of his tongue, every press of his fingers against her flesh.
He bit down, not hard enough to break the skin, just hard enough to make her scream again.
Victoria’s eyes closed shut. Her back arched. She was close again, so close, but he gave her nothing.
Instead, he sat back on his heels, wiping her blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. His cock was rigid against his thigh, throbbing painfully, but he made no move to enter her.
Victoria whimpered, reaching for him, her fingers desperate and clawing.
"Please," she begged, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. "Please, Zayn, I need you."
He stared at her for a long moment.
And realized that he felt nothing. Not hatred. Not anger. Not even pity. Only an empty, growing hollowness. Zayn leaned back, scrubbing a hand over his face. fr\(e)ew(e)b.(n)o (v)(e)l.com
The taste of her blood still lingered on his tongue. His eyes locked on her needy body, and for a moment, he really thought of how a future would be with Victoria at his side.
He knew it would be pain, torture, seduction, surrender. She would manipulate him, use him to her pleasure and will, and in exchange, he would grow darker and sink deeper into the madness that had already taken over him.
Was this the future he wanted?