Chapter 3 Mistake Me for Vera?

Elena's POV

My struggling stopped dead.

He didn't say a word. Those silver-grey eyes that always looked down on me, always full of disgust — right now they were locked on me, and none of the old coldness or mockery was left in them. They burned, like something had caught fire.

He breathed hard and ragged, the thick smell of whiskey washing over me.

His jaw was clenched tight, his forehead damp with cold sweat, like he was holding something back.

I reached up to push him off. His body went stiff — and then he couldn't hold back anymore, and he bent and kissed me, hard.

From the moment he'd rejected me, the pain that had been tearing me apart began, somehow, to fade. Fast.

His kiss, his touch, were like a lethal antidote. The hands I'd meant to push him away with betrayed me; without thinking, I wrapped them around his neck and pulled him closer.

"Damian…" I murmured, not even aware I was doing it, drinking in the warmth of him.

Damian's throat bobbed hard.

His eyes went black with want. His hands shot to the neckline of my gown. With a sharp tearing sound, the expensive fabric ripped away in his grip, and he flung it off the side of the bed.

Bared to the cool air, my body shuddered, out of my control.

But then his burning chest sealed against me, and I couldn't stop myself from arching toward him.

He turned me over and pulled me back against him, his arms locked around me from behind. His scorching gaze felt like it could set my skin alight. His rough hand slid up the line of my waist and closed over my breast.

He kneaded hard. The rough pads of his fingers pinched hard at my nipples, flicking and tugging at them repeatedly.

"Mmm..." I arched my back in discomfort, a moan escaping my throat—a sound so shameful even to my own ears.

His hot breath fell heavy against my neck. He opened his mouth and bit down on the side of it, sucking, licking, again and again.

I'd never wanted anything like this. My legs shifted, restless — and I felt him, hard as iron, burning between my thighs, only a thin scrap of fabric left, dragging dangerously.

"Easy." Damian's voice was wrecked, hoarse. He pushed my legs apart and slid his fingers down.

He found the spot; I was already completely soaked.

Damian let out a rough breath, and his long, rough fingers thrust inside without hesitation.

"Ah! It hurts..." I flinched violently, an instinctive urge to crawl away seizing me.

Damian gripped my waist and lowered his head to kiss my ear, as if soothing a frightened little animal.

His fingers began to thrust inside—gentle yet rapid—each movement precisely grazing my sensitive inner walls.

The intensity of the sensation stripped me of all ability to think.

As his fingers moved, I grew wetter; the sticky, wet sounds echoed clearly in the quiet room.

Meanwhile, the cock pressing against my backside swelled, growing larger and hotter by the moment.

I slowly began to relax and adjust; pleasure mounted, and my hips couldn't help but sway in rhythm with his thrusting.

Just as another moan escaped my lips, he suddenly withdrew his fingers, steadied himself, and aligned himself with my opening.

Without a moment's warning, he lunged forward, thrusting himself all the way in—holding nothing back.

"Ah—!" I cried out in pain, my fingernails tearing into the bedsheets.

It was too big; it felt as though he were splitting me right down the middle.

It was my first time; the searing pain instantly brought tears to my eyes, and my whole body trembled.

Damian went still inside me, holding me tight, patiently kissing the tears from the corners of my eyes, waiting for me to adjust.

Minutes passed before he began to move, slow.

Once the first tearing pain faded, a pleasure I couldn't name shot through me like a current. My mind went white; I could only cling to his arm and ride the rhythm.

As he moved, the wolf inside me, the one that had gone frantic when the bond broke, slowly went calm.

But I noticed something far more terrifying.

With every deep thrust, every kiss, I felt my wolf disappearing, bit by bit.

The feeling was unmistakable — like two living things that had lived inside me were being torn out of my flesh.

I tried to call to them in my head, to hold on. I couldn't catch them at all.

The emptiness of that life draining away filled me with panic, and still I clung to Damian, not wanting him to stop.

Because only his burning body and his rough thrusts could fill the warmth bleeding out of me. It was the only thing that eased the deeper pain.

In the end, my mind went completely silent.

My wolf was gone. I couldn't reach her. I could never call her again.

Damian held me tight and turned me over to face him. He kissed my lips, my cheeks, the tip of my nose, over and over.

He was so patient, so gentle — nothing like the cold, ruthless Alpha who'd humiliated me in front of everyone an hour before.

Looking at the tenderness in his eyes, a vast grief welled up in me.

He was only this gentle because he was drunk.

He had to be mistaking me for Vera.

Only for Vera did he wear a look like this.

I was just a pitiful stand-in — a thing he used to burn off his desire and dull his pain.

His thrusts came faster, harder. Every muscle in him drew tight; he threw his head back, the veins standing out on his neck. He was at his limit.

He gripped my waist, and in the last second before he came, he buried his face hard in the curve of my neck. A scalding drop struck my skin, and he growled out, hoarse and sated:

"Elena…"

I went rigid on the bed. In the white blaze of the peak, my mind stopped completely.

The name he'd said was mine.