Chapter 5

Revulsion cuts through my body's eager reaction. No matter how enticing my omega self finds this alpha, his cruelty only solidifies my hatred for him.

"You have two choices: wash me with the soap or wash me with your tongue."

The bar squishes between my fingers as I fight to regain my control. I swallow and close both hands over the soap and resist the urge to sink my nails into his eyes.

He sits naked before me, but nakedness for an alpha like him doesn't equate to weakness or vulnerability. No, the virility of his body sits on full display, and I fight against the longing to study him.

He's terrifying. Huge. Broad shoulders. Massive cock. Thick thighs.

Scars decorate his entire body. The newer cuts from today's explosion sit red and inflamed on his tanned skin, and the stab wound on his hip sends a trail of thin crimson down the seat. Despite the injury, he doesn't act wounded.

The stony expression on his face promises retribution. I shove away my fear and rub the soap until white froth drips between my fingers. I balance the soap on his thigh and place my hands on his shoulders.

He grabs my wrists and moves my fingers to his head. Silky strands of salt and pepper tease my palms and curl around my digits. As he guides my hands deeper into his hair, yearning steals my breath.

My appa loved washing my omma's hair. The joy and love they expressed in the daily routine always filled my heart to overflowing.

I swallow the lump in my throat and pray the deluge washes away my errant tear before Alpha Fore scents it.

I want what my parents had. Their devotion and worship of each other never needed to be expressed in words.

I'll never have that with this alpha. Our hatred runs too deep.

I bite the inside of my mouth and try to blank my mind, but horror rips through me when I realize I thought of my parents' relationship in the past tense.

They aren't dead. They're still alive and are suffering because of the male in front of me.

In a desperate attempt to pull myself together, I bite the inside of my mouth harder and focus on scrubbing my enemy's hair. If he wants a meek omega, he chose the wrong female, but I'm at a disadvantage, so I'll be on my best behavior while I keep an eye out for opportunities.

I'll only get one chance, so I can't make a move unless I know for certain I'll come out the victor.

When soap slides down his forehead and into his eyes, he growls in warning. I tilt his chin back and finish scrubbing his head, wanting to ignore the brush of his chest hair against my nipples, but too entranced by his size to hide my body's reaction.

I rinse all traces of soap from his hair before working a lather onto my hands and resting my fingertips on his shoulders. Déjà vu strikes me as he grabs my wrists and lifts my hands again, but he flattens my palms on the sides of his face instead of raising them to his hair.

"Is my scar that ugly, tiny scorpion?" he growls.

His derisive tone bursts the bubble of lust building in me.

"The scar doesn't bother me, only the sneer behind it."

I should shove the soap in my mouth. My stupid tongue was never good at staying silent.

Fore's growl drops dangerously low. My stomach bottoms out and terror rattles my bones.

"Your father gave me this scar before he left me for dead. This sneer stems from his betrayal, so blame him for the view."

"Don't use my father or my mother as an excuse. You've probably always been a grouchy asshole."

His thick fingers wrap around my throat in the single most terrifying gesture I've ever experienced, but his words invoked my omega need to protect my family and I can't stop my mouth. Also, a tiny sliver of me wonders if a quick yet painful death would be better than what he has planned for me.

"I don't blame my omma for choosing my appa over you," I hiss through the growing pressure in my head as he compresses my jugular.

In a shocking contrast to his brutal grip, he gently runs the fingers of his other hand down my face, mirroring the scar on his otherwise handsome features.

"You brought this upon yourself, tiny scorpion."

Unlike the raging fury he usually exudes, his expression offers only cold resolve. Fear coils so tight around my spine my entire body becomes brittle. I don't shatter when he pushes me onto my knees and pulls me forward by my throat, but I wish I would.

His thick, veiny shaft pulses mere centimeters from my face. My mouth waters as his smoky, rich scent punches into my nostrils, and even though I'd rather stab him with a much bigger knife than touch his imposing cock, yearning fills me. I curse my omega urges.

"You stung me once, tiny scorpion. Now it's my turn to return the favor, although I dare say you'll enjoy my stinger more than I did yours. Open your mouth."

I clamp my teeth together and glare up at him, even though trepidation flows through my veins. His tip obscures the bottom half of my vision, and from my position, he looks like a water god sitting in naked splendor. The opulence of his masculine form both terrifies and titillates me.

"Deny me and your precious appa will feel my wrath," he snarls.

My jaw aches as I open my mouth.

He will never fight fair. He doesn't have to since he has all the power. Even without his overwhelming strength, I'll never win while he has control over my parents, but the ease with which he wields his blackmail infuriates me anew.

I part my teeth and hold his glare, fully prepared to bite whatever he's stupid enough to put in my mouth, but a wicked smirk flashes across his features. Silky flesh brushes against my lips as he lowers my head with his tight grip on my hair. I stare in shock as he wraps his scarred knuckles around the base of his shaft and angles his tip toward me, the visual so stimulating my belly clenches.

As massive as his hands are, his knot—even only partially inflated—overflows his grip.

I'll never survive his rutting.

The Destroyer is an apt name for the weapon between his legs.

I blink away my stupor and grab his thighs for balance. He growls, so I flick a glance at his face and reluctantly drop my arms.

I hesitate as he runs the tip of his dick over my lips again. Without warning, he tilts his hips and forces his cockhead between my teeth.

"Bite me and your beloved omma will suffer."

His taut voice carries no bluff. In fact, his tone suggests he'd happily torture my mother just for the thrill.

My heart goes cold even as my taste buds explode. Psychedelic colors burst through my mind as I savor his essence for the first time.

His thighs close over my arms, trapping them at my sides, and I battle claustrophobia. With his muscular legs trapping me in place, his steely cock in my mouth, and the water pattering down on us, I can't breathe.

He doesn't care. I sink my nails into the back of his thighs. He groans and pushes my head down. I panic as his thick shaft stretches my jaw and compresses my tongue.

When he wraps both hands around my head, my mind splinters. Terror and need rip me to pieces as he surrounds me with his massive body and invades me with ruthless thrusts of his hips, pulling back so his flange stretches my lips before surging forward to hit the back of my throat. I gag, but he repeats the movement until the rhythmic, wet glide of his cock embeds deep into my psyche and becomes the basis for my filthiest fantasies.

He angles my head and captures my attention in his intense gaze while keeping his cock in my mouth.

"Take a deep breath, tiny scorpion. Or don't, it doesn't matter. I'm going to fuck your throat either way," he says.

More sensual than ever before, his voice arrows straight to my core. Fresh slick coats my inner thighs. His scar distorts with his wicked, knowing smirk.

He thrusts his hips and pulls my head down. The tip of his cock spears past the back of my throat. Pain and dark delight flow through me at his agonized groan. He tightens his grip around my head and leans back for better leverage.

Sticky warmth drips down my fingers as I sink my nails into the back of his thighs.

He sets a relentless rhythm, too fast for me to catch a full breath, but so slow my lips track the veins running along his shaft as they slide in and out of my mouth.

It's too much. I can't breathe.

He works deeper and deeper into my throat, pulling away so his tip hits the back of my teeth before he surges in again.

His flavor intensifies. Hot, decadent liquid floods my mouth every time he leaves my throat, impeding my already stilted breaths, but the delicious nectar slowly steals my fear. Bit by bit, I lose myself to his overwhelming control.

I don't need oxygen. Breathing is overrated. I could drown in his seed and die in euphoria.

Urgency pulses through him. He quickens his pace. The aching of my jaw and stretching of my throat register, but flames of need lick up my body and erase my concerns.

For long, endless moments, he stays lodged deep within my throat, moving back and forth with tiny, jerking movements. Black spots dance along my periphery.

He pushes impossibly deeper. His knot mashes against my lips.

Tingling warmth shoots down my esophagus and settles in my stomach. It spreads throughout my torso and travels through my limbs.

He infects my entire nervous system. Sadness and elation mingle within me as I realize I'll never be the same.

Tasting him changed me on a molecular level. An immediate craving for more jangles through my nerve endings, even as the black spots dancing along the edges of my vision grow.

He pulls back. His seed surges from his tip and batters my gag reflex, but my traitorous body demands I consume every drop. Unable to decide whether to breathe or swallow, I do both at the same time and inhale the thick fluid.

Pain sears through my lungs, but I don't care. Sizzling warmth buzzes under my skin and I long for it to continue forever.

He fills my mouth again and again until the pulsing of his cock slows and his shaft softens. I swallow and blink as I watch his knot partially deflate, but cotton buffers me from my thoughts.

My errant tongue curls around his tip.

He hisses and yanks my head back.

"See? I told you you'd enjoy my stinger a lot more than I enjoyed yours."

Reality crashes down on my head. A band squeezes my ribs and sobs build in my chest, but I clamp my teeth together and cling to the tattered remnants of my past self. The shower does its best to wash away my tears, but a steady cascade of sadness flows from my eyes, tinting the air with the scent of salt.

I meet Fore's brilliant grey orbs, reach deep into myself, and don my hatred for him like a shield, except it's nowhere near as effective as it was before he filled my belly with his seed.

An emotion flits across his scarred features as I fail to hide my sorrow, but he tilts my chin up and traces my lips with a finger. Even without a mirror, I know they're swollen and red from his abuse.

He leans forward and cups my chin.

"Brace yourself, tiny scorpion. I've barely begun."

My heart sinks and I swallow my sob before it escapes.

He's done nothing but tell the truth since I met his eye through the hole in the wall.

I'm doomed to be defiled by the destroyer.

Mind, body, and soul, he plans to turn me against myself and transform me into his puppet.

My soul aches as I replay the way I greedily gulped down his seed. In a handful of minutes, he turned my body—and the omega part of my soul—against me.

I don't know how I'm going to survive him, much less save my parents.