Chapter 43

(Emily's POV)

One of his 'f*cks' hit my ears before he jerk off his chair and caught me by the waist just as my legs gave out.

With my back to his chest, he shoved two fingers down my throat, gagged on them, then threw up on his hand and the marble floor. He did it again, and again until nothing else came up, and I begged him to stop.

Hot sweat permeated my skin, which made me shiver. My limbs were as weak as jelly, and tears saturated my cheeks from the presence of his fingers down my throat. But the knowledge he hadn't done this to me filled me with a disturbing amount of relief that alleviated the grip on my lungs.

When he lifted me, my eyes opened, and I blinked against the harsh light. Alya dashed from the room after Dimitri growled something at her.

Rainbow-colored vomit stained my rose dress and Dimitri's Tom Ford suit. I wondered if this was how I would die, poisoned by black tea in the devil's arms. I wondered if hell would feel as welcoming; if it had an accent, sharp incisor