Chapter 3

Morwenna

I snuggle harder against the warm, solid body in my arms. Nothing has ever felt so comfortable. Even with the blood pounding in my head from being held upside down and my injuries throbbing with pain, I slip into the deepest sleep I've managed in years.

The world fades away. All I need is to remain wrapped around the source of heat forever. Nothing else is important.

A trickle of life seeps back into my broken heart, healing my touch-deprived omega soul. It hurts so good. Being so alone for so long almost ruined me. Dry and cracked roots soak up the one-sided embrace. It doesn't matter if he never returns my hug. All I need is to hold him.

I jerk awake as ice cold water patters on my ass and runs down my legs and up my back. My gasp breaks through the sound of rushing water, but I clench my teeth and hug the warmth harder.

Despite the water flowing into my nose, I don't lift my head, desperate to remain tucked against him for as long as possible. It doesn't matter who he is or how much he's hurt me in the past. I just need this a little longer.

Sluggish and hazy from my unexpected nap, I cough and sputter as the water warms.

It's not hot enough. He could pour a bucket of boiling water over his shoulder and ice would still coat my insides.

With a slow blink, I realize the downpour continues. No bucket could hold this much water.

"Let go, little mouse," Russt growls. His voice echoes through the space.

I tighten my arms and turn my face down toward the floor to breathe, using my hair as a shield against the never-ending flow of water. Shock steals through me as I open my eyes.

Texturized burnished metal surrounds a working drain, giving a distorted reflection of my captor's massive body from the ground's perspective. He's mesmerizing.

I peel my eyes away from him and stare in wonder at the murky reflection of the space. Silver metal shines from every surface, with only a few rust spots in the room's corner. Dozens of spigots, all with different shower heads, line the ceiling and walls. A bright red wheel adorns the center of the wall.

He reaches out and adjusts the wheel. The water gets warmer.

"I said, let go. Now," he snarls.

I open my mouth to respond and spit out water before the taste hits me.

There's no rust or traces of metal. No chemicals. It's just water. The cleanest water I've ever tasted.

And it's running down our dirty bodies. Our clothes are sullying it. Filth circles the drain.

A sob wrenches from my chest, surprising me out of my mental spiral.

In the blink of an eye, I find myself pinned face down on the cold floor by my nape. Pain steals my breath as he grinds the sore side of my face against the ground.

Water runs into my nose and mouth. It's too much. Terror steals my control. I scream and fight with everything I have, just like I did when my father tried to drown me. Bloody visions snap through my mind's eye. Adrenaline floods my system.

Hard hands pull my arms to my sides and his partial weight settles on my back. Russt uses his knees to immobilize my arms as he kneels over me.

He reaches behind himself, yanks my slippers off my feet, and holds my soles against his lower back with my ankles in his hand. When he reaches down toward my face, I try to bite him, but he covers the side of my head and blocks out the world with his giant, callused palm.

For long, horrible moments, he doesn't move, caging me in wet darkness, until my mania recedes and I realize he prevents the water from getting in my face.

"Are you calm now?"

The derision in his tone curdles my empty stomach. Thirst roars through me and the only thing stopping me from slurping the water off the floor is his massive hand shielding my face. I don't dare move for fear of the spray dousing me again.

His grip gentles on my ankles. My breasts ache as I heave against the floor. He's massive. Heavy. Strong. I don't stand a chance against him.

His anger emanates clearly in his silence.

"Are you done?" he snarls.

I take a steadying breath and sputter as water sneaks into my mouth.

"Y-yes. I'm calm," I lie.

"Good. Stop the theatrics. It makes you look pathetic, and I don't buy it. I never will."

I scrunch my brows, not understanding his words or the reason behind them. My bruised face throbs at the movement.

"You're here for only two reasons," he says as he leans down, pulling my legs so my hipbones grind against the floor and adding more weight to the side of my head.

"To pay your father's debts and appease my anger," he snarls against my ear.

Chills run down my spine before a wave of heat blasts through me as his tongue ghosts up my earlobe.

"What do—"

"I didn't give you permission to speak, so shut your mouth," he growls.

Tears burn the back of my eyes as my heart splinters.

In all the years I yearned for him, I never thought our reunion would break me, but his tone hurts worse than my father's fists.

He sits up and releases my legs to pull something from his belt. Without moving his hand from my face, he tugs my shirt out from under him and pulls it tight over my chest before slicing the fabric from my nape to the bottom hem with his knife.

Shame spears through me at the thought of him seeing my scarred and bruised back, but he doesn't peel the material away from my flesh. He moves so fast I don't have time to react, rolling me over and pinning me on my back with my arms trapped at my sides, never once lifting his hand from my face. My neck aches from the odd angle, but I dare not move as his low rumble melts the marrow of my bones.

He palms my breast through my wet shirt.

I should hate it, but my nerves electrify. He's been nothing but cruel since I bounced off his chest, but in all my dreams, I never imagined he'd grow to be so big and strong. I gasp and writhe as he kneads my flesh and pinches my nipple before shifting to my other breast. A spark grows into flames as the pheromones wafting from his hand build in the tiny space around my face. My mouth waters. I'm helpless against the familiar hints of the boy I loved with all my heart embedded into rich alpha musk.

"Do you know what your father owed me, little mouse?"

I can't think beyond the delicious, rough ministrations of his thick fingers.

"Years of pain and anguish."

He tweaks my nipple. I yelp at the sting.

"Stop, wait, I—"

He snarls and slides me over the floor until he straddles my shoulders. Water rains down on my face, but the unmistakable sound of his zipper lowering pierces through my struggle.

"You must be ready for your first taste of me, since you can't keep your mouth shut," he snarls.

I push against his butt and buck my hips, but he doesn't budge. When he shifts his weight, I clench my teeth together and strain my neck to tuck my face against his knee.

"Open your mouth, little mouse, before I add another hole to your punishment."

My tears burn my eyes as they join the relentless downpour sluicing off his body.

He grabs my face and forces me to look up at the ceiling before plastering his palm on my forehead and pressing me down so the back of my skull aches from the floor.

I blink as his shoulders block the worst of the shower and stare in shock at his long, thick shaft. He's massive everywhere . His scarred fingers, so much bigger than mine, can't wrap all the way around the partially inflated knot near his base.

There's no way even just the tip of his dick will fit in my mouth. I'll never survive a rutting by that monstrosity.

But the sweet, earthy scent wafting from his cock fills my mouth with saliva. My insides clench. I sink my nails into whatever part of him I can reach and swallow before I choke on my excess spit.

The motion only highlights my thirst.

He releases his knot. His hard cock defies the laws of gravity and bobs above me.

I flinch as his fingertips land on my injured cheek.

"Who did this to you?"

His low snarl steals the floor out from under me. My stomach plummets. I stare up at him, trapped between yearning and confusion.

"Why do you care?" I ask.

Our eyes meet for the first time since he threw me over his shoulder, and I realize I must have landed in the shadows after bouncing off his chest if he didn't notice my throbbing cheek the first time we locked eyes.

"You're mine to hurt. No one else's," he growls.

Disappointment drains the fight from me, and I let my hands drop to the floor.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

"There you go with the theatrics again. You won't—"

"What theatrics?! None of this is—"

He clamps his hand over my mouth and snarls.

"Who hurt you? Was it the male your father chose for you? I bet you didn't like him either, so you made a big fuss and fought with your father."

He's not making any sense. Frustrated tears seep down my temples. I close my eyes, too wrung out to handle more, but he lifts his hand from my mouth and pinches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, demanding my attention.

Without a trace of sympathy in his gaze, he aims eyes filled with the promise of retribution down at me. Not a sliver of the sweet, lovely boy of my dreams remains.

"Who hurt you, Morwenna?"

He pinches my chin harder and my control snaps.

"My father! My father hurt me."

He scoffs and shakes his head.

"Your father would never hurt his perfect little princess."

"He did! Mom died, you left me, and he started hurting me. All. The. Time."

He stops and studies my face, but I don't know what he's looking for. I lost faith long ago, but I pray to whatever deity might be listening. Please let Russt believe me.

Doubt flashes across his face, and for a moment my heart leaps with hope, only to crash as he dons a scowl. Emotions clog my throat, but I push the truth past them and whisper, "My father's princess died the day my mother never came home."

He sighs, rolls his eyes to the ceiling, and takes a deep breath before lowering his gaze to mine again. My spine ices over as he strokes his cock while holding eye contact with me.

"Good try, little mouse, but you won't fool me with these cheap tricks. I won't fall at your feet because you bat your lashes and shed a few tears. Now open up and use that mouth for what it's really made for."

I resign myself to his abuse and retreat behind the invisible shield I've built, but my heart aches as he angles his hips and aims his tip toward my mouth.

The premonition building within my jumbled emotions warns me of my imminent failure. Deep down, I know my defenses won't last against his brutality. It doesn't matter how much he hurts me; my omega instincts will yield to his dominance. I crave his touch even though wounds fester in my soul from his disappearance and recent cruelty.

His mocking words bounce around in my skull. I close my eyes and breathe through my nose, refusing to bat my lashes and shed a few tears for his amusement.

My lack of reaction infuriates him just as it did my father. Alpha egos hate being ignored.

Surprisingly smooth, warm flesh presses against my lips and intriguing masculine pheromones invade my nostrils.

"Open," he snarls.

I hesitate, unsure if he means my eyes or mouth, but choose the lesser of two evils and part my teeth, deciding to protect my soul over my body. I can't win against his strength, but the slight, improbable chance of me maintaining a sliver of my sanity lures me into reluctant obedience.

A moment passes. Water trickles into my mouth and threatens to go up my nose, but he pushes the broad head of his cock between my lips and forces himself past my teeth.

"Open wider. If your teeth scrape my cock again, I'll return the favor." He thrusts deeper, but the awkward angle means he hits the roof of my mouth. He groans. "Do you want that, little mouse? Want me to bite your pussy? I could mark you there and ruin you for anyone else."

I try to shake my head, but his hand on my forehead doesn't budge, so I squirm and grunt. My mind screams no while heat pulses between my legs.

He shifts back and forth, rubbing my stretched lips and mashing the roof of my mouth. Wetness leaks from his tip and slides toward the back of my throat.

I can't resist. He smells so good. I need to taste him.

His flavor blasts along my taste buds as I run my tongue over him. He jerks and groans as a stronger wave of fluid leaks from his tip.

I'm a goner. Delight spears through me. Wonder grips my omega side. I'm helpless against my overwhelming need.

Instincts overrule my higher thoughts. A needy sound leaves my throat and I lick him again as I try to take more of him into my mouth.

He pulls his cock away with a snarl.

"What the fuck are you—" I steal a lick. "Goddamn it, Morwenna, come here," he groans.

I gasp as he slips his hand from my forehead to the back of my head, my scalp lighting up with delicious sensations. My entire body tingles and throbs as he lifts me into a sitting position with his hand cupped around the base of my skull. He shuffles backward and rises into a high kneel with his knees on either side of my hips.

I don't even think to fight as he angles my face and pushes his cock into my mouth. I mewl, making animalistic sounds I know will embarrass me when I think about them later, and accept his harried thrusts as the vibrations emanating from his chest drop impossibly lower.

"Fuckin' hell, little mouse. So good," he purrs.

My insides melt at his praise as he weaves both hands into my hair and kneads my scalp. My heart basks in his praise while my mind struggles to understand how such momentous emotions can rise from such a degrading act, but my body leaps out of my control, and I worship his cock with my mouth. Following my instincts, I swirl my tongue as much as his girth will allow, tighten my lips around him, and suck as though I can force more of the delicious nectar out of his tip.

His groans feed my soul. He pulls me closer. I hum as he hits the back of my throat, too far gone to gag despite my watering eyes.

He jerks away. I follow with a hungry growl. His hands tighten painfully in my hair.

His snarl breaks the spell of lust and yearning woven around me by his taste. He yanks my head back. The fury in his eyes decimates my sense of self worth. I feel dirty. So dirty.

"You almost fooled me, you lying little whore," he snarls.

I push against his thighs, shame and fear seeping into my soul, but he twists his fingers in my hair and shoves his cock back into my mouth. All traces of pleasure flee and only brutality, self-loathing, and suffocation remain.

"This isn't your first time servicing a male like this, is it?" His words strike deep into my wounded heart. He punctuates each thrust with an angry growl. "How many do I need to kill? How dirty is this mouth? This throat?" I dig my nails into his thighs as he forces himself so deep he blocks my airway. It hurts. I can't breathe. I panic. He ignores my struggles and uses me as he pleases.

"Why, Morwenna?" he snarls, silently cursing me with every painful jerk of his hips.

Spit and snot join the water running down my face as he quickens his pace and lengthens his thrusts, pulling out far enough so his tip hits the back of my teeth, then sinking deeper into my throat, again and again until my jaw aches and my throat throbs.

"Were you that desperate for attention? Your heat wouldn't come, so you used your mouth instead? Did you like it so much you couldn't stop? How many cocks did you suck to get this good, huh?"

Each demeaning, crude question shrivels my heart further and the slippery glide of his cock rubs my lips and throat raw. My head spins. It's too much. Tears join the mess streaming down my face.

"Oh, quit complaining, you dirty bitch. You're an old pro at this, aren't you? There's no use pretending innocence now. Take it." His rhythm falters. He pistons in and out faster. "Take me. All of me. Oh, gods," his growl drops in pitch as he shoves himself so deep his knot balloons against my lips.

My lungs burn. Tingling warmth fills my belly as he cums straight down my throat. It's too much. The pain in my heart lures me toward the reprieve of unconsciousness. I close my eyes and stop fighting. Death would be easier than facing reality.

He pulls out and spurts against the back of my throat. I cough, sputter, and inhale his seed as he finishes with shallow, choppy thrusts behind my teeth. Hunger grips me as the full flavor of his release coats my tongue, but I refuse to swallow more, letting it seep from the corners of my mouth and drip off my chin.

When he pulls away, I spit it out and clamp my teeth shut despite the pain in my jaw.

Chills run down my spine as he stares at me in silence, but I bow my head and hide behind my curtain of hair. I tense and wait for the pain of his retaliation.

His mocking tsk proves worse than a backhand from my father. I flinch.

"Who taught you to be so wasteful? Looks like I need to start again."

My heart sinks.

This can't be real. Even my nightmares aren't this horrible. My tears flow harder at the injustice.

All hope of reconciling with the boy of my dreams crumbles to dust. My childhood sweetheart is gone.

I'm at the mercy of The Dreadnought , but he's exactly as the rumors say.

He has no mercy.