9. Freya

9

Freya

T he second the old man called another girl's name, Henry was already yanking me out of the room. His grip on my wrist was iron, bruising. He dragged me through the hall, his strides long and purposeful. I stumbled a few times, but he didn't slow down. The echo of our footsteps bounced off the cold, stone walls.

We burst through a set of heavy doors, into the crisp night air. Even then, he didn't release me. His hand tightened, if anything.

"Henry," I managed to choke out, trying to pull my arm free. He didn't look at me. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitch.

I dug my heels into the gravel path. "Henry, stop!"

Finally, he halted but still wouldn't meet my gaze. His chest rose and fell with quick breaths. The moonlight cast sharp shadows across his face, making him look almost feral.

"What are you doing?" My voice came out harsher than intended.

He finally let go of my wrist and took a step back, running a hand through his hair. His eyes were dark pools of emotion I couldn't decipher.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" His voice was low, barely more than a whisper, but it cut through the night like a blade.

I rubbed my sore wrist and looked away. "I didn't have a choice."

"You always have a choice," he snapped back.

The wind rustled through the trees around us, filling the silence that stretched between us like an insurmountable chasm. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears louder than the last.

"I did what I had to do," I whispered, more to myself than to him.

Henry laughed bitterly and turned away from me. "You just signed both our fates."

I opened my mouth to respond but found no words that could bridge the gap between us now. Instead, I stared at his back as he walked further away into the shadows, leaving me standing alone in the moonlit courtyard.

"Now, get in the car," he snapped, yanking open the door with enough force to rattle the hinges.

"I'll just Uber?—"

"You don't get that right," he interrupted, his voice icy. "You're mine, remember? You have to listen to me. Now get in the fucking car."

I wanted to argue, to fight him right there in the moonlit courtyard. But the cold air bit through my thin dress, and my wrist still ached from his earlier grip. I didn't want to be here longer than necessary. So I climbed into the car and slammed the door shut like a petulant child.

I focused on my breathing, trying to calm down by the time Henry slid into the driver's seat. My heart pounded, but I forced my face into an impassive mask.

"You're taking me back to my dorm," I said firmly. It wasn't a request.

He cracked a smile, but it was hollow and made my stomach churn. "Absolutely not," he replied. "Now, I have to take you back to my house. Fuck, and I paid for my dorm for the goddamn year."

"What?" The word slipped out before I could stop it.

"What do you think 'claim' means?" He started the car with a jerk. "You think we just go on our merry ways and everything goes back to the way it was before?" He laughed, a harsh sound that filled the small space between us. "You're a fucking idiot."

I stared at him, anger and confusion warring inside me. The trees blurred past as he drove through the darkened streets, each turn taking us further from anything familiar. The weight of his words settled heavily on my shoulders.

"Oh, I forget." I sneered, leaning back in my seat. "You're such a rule follower. You have to do everything they say."

Henry's glare darkened. "You know," he said, his voice dropping so low it sent shivers down my spine. "If I followed their rules, I'd be dragging you back to my house to fuck you, to physically claim your body the way I've already claimed your soul."

I forced myself not to flinch, to keep my face a mask of indifference. My heart pounded in my chest, but I refused to show any sign of fear.

"Would you like that?" he asked, his eyes boring into mine. "Is that why you came? Because poor little only child is desperate for someone to love her?"

Without thinking, I reached out to slap him across the face, but he caught my wrist mid-air and squeezed hard. He yanked me closer until our faces were inches apart.

"Or is this a cry for attention from your future husband, hmm?" His breath was hot against my skin. "Are you jealous all your friends in arranged marriages are getting married and actually in love with their husbands? And you're some damsel, looking for someone to save her?"

"Fuck you," I spat, wrenching my wrist in a futile attempt to free myself.

"Oh, we will," he said, his tone dripping with venom. "Unfortunately."

I glared at him, trying to keep the tears from spilling over.

"You think I want you?" He laughed bitterly. "You're a scrawny little girl who has nothing going for her except decent tits and a pretty face. Congratulations. So does every other bitch at Crestwood."

"Then why claim me at all?" I hated the way my voice wavered and the tears that blurred my vision.

He looked away then, releasing me abruptly. "I didn't do it for you," he muttered.

"I would never make that assumption," I shot back. "Don't worry."

The car fell into a heavy silence as we continued down the dark road. My wrist throbbed where he'd gripped it, but the ache was nothing compared to the storm brewing inside me. The streetlights flickered past in a blur as I stared out the window, swallowing down the sobs that threatened to escape.

The night air was sharp, each breath a reminder of how far I'd been dragged from any sense of normalcy. The stars above were a cruel contrast to my chaotic thoughts, their calm light doing nothing to soothe the turmoil inside me. The trees, dark sentinels lining the road, whispered secrets in the wind, secrets I wished I could decode.

I glanced at Henry, his face set in an unreadable mask. His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, tension radiating off him in waves. Every part of me ached to be somewhere else, anywhere else. The weight of his claim pressed down on me like a suffocating blanket.

I closed my eyes for a moment, imagining what it would have been like if someone else had claimed me. Anyone but Henry. I didn't care about the risk, about what they'd do. They couldn't possibly be this cruel.

The thought brought a bitter taste to my mouth. Wishing for an alternate reality was pointless now; I was bound to Henry by rules I hadn't fully understood until tonight.

The car sped along the winding road, headlights cutting through the darkness like knives. The silence between us was heavy, filled with words unspoken and emotions too raw to touch.

I opened my eyes and turned to look out the window again, trying to lose myself in the passing scenery. The night was alive with sounds—crickets chirping, leaves rustling—but it all felt distant, like a soundtrack to someone else's life.

"Why did it have to be you?" I muttered under my breath, not really expecting an answer.

Henry's eyes flicked toward me for a split second before returning to the road. "Trust me," he murmured. "If I could undo this, I would."

His words hung in the air between us, mingling with the cold night breeze seeping through the cracked window. For a moment, I almost believed him. But then reality came crashing back down, and the hope that had briefly flickered died away.

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to ward off the chill that had nothing to do with the temperature outside.

The car continued its relentless journey through the night, each mile taking us further from any semblance of choice or freedom.

“Why did you do that?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why claim me at all?”

“Because you're my wife,” he replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Not yet,” I countered, my eyes narrowing.

“You think you're going to get out of it?” His tone was mocking. “Why can't you just accept your fate?”

“Like you?” I snapped back. “Bend over and take it like a good boy?”

“If that's the way you want it, I'll fuck you like a dog,” he said, his voice dripping with venom.

I scoffed. “I wouldn't bother. There's no way you could fuck me like Dan, so there's no point in trying.”

The car screeched to an abrupt halt, and I lurched forward, barely catching myself on the dashboard. My heart raced as I glanced at Henry, his face twisted with rage.

He flung his door open and stormed over to my side, yanking my door open with such force I thought it might come off its hinges. Before I could react, he grabbed me and pulled me out of the car, his grip bruising.

“Don't,” he whispered fiercely, slamming me against the car. The cold metal bit into my back, but the pain was nothing compared to the fury in his eyes.

I struggled against his hold, but his grip was too tight.

“Don't ever talk to me about you fucking anyone else,” he growled.

“Why not?” I shot back defiantly. “It's not like you've been waiting around for me, have you?”

His eyes darkened even further, and for a moment, I thought he might actually hit me. Instead, he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my face.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” he said through gritted teeth.

I glared up at him, refusing to back down. The tension between us crackled like electricity in the air. My chest heaved with each ragged breath as I stared into his eyes, daring him to make the next move.

"You think I'm supposed to wait?" I asked, voice quivering despite my efforts to stay strong. "My body is the only thing I have left that's mine. Of course I didn't wait. And I didn't expect you to either."

Henry's smile sent a shiver down my spine, a predatory grin that made my skin crawl.

"You think you still own this body?" His voice was a low growl. "You don't."

He released one of my shoulders, his hand trailing down to touch my thigh. I sucked in a breath as his fingers glided up my skin, slipping under my dress.

"Do you see how you respond to me?" he murmured, leaning in closer. "Your body is mine. It always has been."

His fingers brushed against my panties, and I felt a jolt of both shame and something darker, more primal. A glimmer of surprise lit his eyes as he pressed against the damp fabric.

"Already wet," he said. "What a slut. You like being degraded this way? Is this what gets you off? Is this what Dan did?"

His teeth gritted together, anger mingling with something else in his gaze.

I knew I should push him off, fight back with every ounce of strength I had left. But I couldn't bring myself to move. My body betrayed me, reacting to his touch despite the loathing churning inside me.

His fingers continued their cruel exploration, each brush against my skin sending waves of conflicting emotions through me. My breath hitched, and I bit down on my lip hard enough to draw blood.

Henry's eyes bore into mine, a dark intensity that made it impossible to look away. His touch was both punishing and intoxicating, a heady mix that left me teetering on the edge of despair and desire.

For a moment, everything else faded away—the anger, the fear, the betrayal. All that existed was his hand on my body and the undeniable connection between us.

And then reality came crashing back in, shattering the fragile illusion.

I closed my eyes briefly, trying to gather the strength to push him away, to reclaim even a shred of control over myself.

But as Henry's fingers continued their relentless assault, I realized with a sinking heart that it wasn't just my body that had betrayed me—it was my willpower too.

Henry slipped his fingers into me, his touch both invasive and electric. I gasped, the sound escaping before I could stop it. His thumb brushed my clit, sending jolts of sensation through my body. His gaze locked onto my face, dark and unyielding.

I sucked in a breath, trying to keep my composure. But the traitorous heat pooling in my core betrayed me.

"That's right," he murmured, his voice low and almost soothing. "Look how powerless you truly are."

"I fucking hate you," I spat, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and unwanted arousal.

His lips curled into a cruel smile as he slipped a finger deeper inside me, clenching his teeth as his thumb continued its tormenting dance on my clit.

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You're going to show me how much you hate me, aren't you?"

My body reacted to his touch despite the fury boiling within me. Every stroke of his finger sent waves of pleasure coursing through me, mingling with the rage that made my blood burn. It felt so wrong, so twisted, but I couldn't deny the way he made my body respond.

I wanted to push him away, to scream at him and claw at his face. But instead, I found myself arching into his touch, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The conflict between my mind and body was maddening, tearing me apart from the inside.

My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to maintain control over myself. The pleasure was intense, almost unbearable, and it fueled the anger that simmered just beneath the surface.

"You think this means anything?" I hissed through clenched teeth, trying to ignore the fire building within me.

His finger thrust deeper, and I bit back a moan. "Oh, it means everything," he said softly. "It means you're mine. Every part of you… mine ."

The words stung more than they should have. I wanted to defy him, to show him that he didn't own me—not really. But as his fingers worked their dark magic on my body, it became harder and harder to hold on to that defiance.

Each stroke of his thumb on my clit sent sparks flying through me, igniting something primal and uncontrollable deep within. My breath hitched again as he pressed harder, pushing me closer to the edge.

I hated him for what he was doing to me—for making me feel this way despite everything I knew about him. And yet, a small part of me couldn't help but crave more.

The war raged inside me: hatred battling desire with every touch of his hand. My nails dug into the car door behind me as I fought to keep from giving in completely.

But even as I struggled against him—against myself—I knew that some battles were destined to be lost.

"When you come," Henry's voice slithered into my ear, his breath hot and possessive, "I want you to remember it was me. I did this to you. Only me ."

The words reverberated through my body, fueling the conflicting storm inside me. His fingers moved with an unyielding rhythm, each stroke pushing me closer to a precipice I desperately didn't want to fall over. My breath hitched, my body arching involuntarily as waves of pleasure crashed through me. Every nerve felt like it was on fire, the intensity almost too much to bear.

My mind screamed at me to resist, to fight against the sensations overwhelming my senses. But my body had a will of its own, betraying me with every shudder and gasp. The world narrowed down to just his touch, the relentless drive toward an inevitable climax.

And then it happened—a powerful release that tore through me like a storm, leaving me trembling and breathless. My eyes fluttered shut as the last tremors of pleasure coursed through me, mingling with the bitterness of defeat.

Henry pulled his fingers back, leaving me feeling both empty and exposed. I watched in stunned silence as he brought them to his mouth, his gaze never leaving mine.

"So this is what you taste like," he murmured, savoring the words as if they were a dark secret only he knew. His eyes held mine captive as he slowly pulled his fingers out with a pop . "Now," he said, his tone sharp and commanding, "get in the fucking car."

My legs felt like jelly as I pushed myself off the car and stumbled toward the passenger seat. The aftermath of what had just happened left me disoriented and raw. I hated him even more for making me feel this way—vulnerable and utterly powerless.

Henry walked around to the driver's side with an air of satisfaction that made my skin crawl. As I settled into my seat, I struggled to catch my breath, every inhale reminding me of how thoroughly he'd shattered my defenses.

This time, I didn't argue. My silence was a bitter acknowledgment of how completely he'd broken through my resolve. And in that moment, I hated myself more than I ever hated Henry.