8. Kiss.

Melissa.

I immediately stepped out of Cain's room and the darkness from the hallway hit me, but it felt blinding compared to the dungeon of humiliation I had just escaped. I barely had time to drag in a breath before I collided with a solid chest.

I stumbled backward and froze.

Cypril.

Of course.

Could my day get any better? The bitter thought scraped across my mind, raw and trembling.

Cypril’s eyes darkened instantly. A dangerous glint flickered in them, cold, predatory, cruel. His jaw tensed, and before I could move away, his hand shot out. His fingers clamped around my chin roughly, jerking my face upward so hard it rattled my skull.

“Can’t you watch where you’re going?” he thundered, his voice echoing down the corridor like a trigger ready to explode.

He didn’t wait for my response before tossing my chin to the side, as though even touching me left a stain on his skin. Pain flared down my jaw, joining the sea of agony already tormenting my battered body.

“I’m sorry, Alpha Cypril,” I whispered quickly, my voice trembling. “I really didn’t intend to bump into you.”

My apology didn’t matter.

His expression twisted—more fury, more disgust—and suddenly, he fisted my hair at the base of my skull. The move was violent and quick, and a scream lodged inside my throat as he yanked me forward.

My feet scrambled helplessly beneath me as he dragged me down the hall, towards his room, which was only two doors down from Cain’s. Panic crawled up my spine like a thousand fire ants.

“YOU BITCH!” Cypril spat, slamming the door behind us. The sound cracked like thunder in my ears. “Stealing from your sister wasn’t enough, now you want to hit me too?”

His voice dripped venom, every syllable slicing deeper than claws ever could.

He stood inches from me, staring straight into my eyes, daring me to speak, to explain, to breathe wrong. The air between us churned with rage, pain, and something darker, something I didn’t understand and didn’t want to.

I didn’t respond.

Couldn’t respond.

My mouth opened, closed, then remained still. My tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth, heavy and useless. My body screamed in pain from the welts on my back, every breath a stretch of torn skin.

Cypril’s nostrils flared.

“I am talking to you. You answer right away.” His voice slithered low and lethal, more terrifying than when he shouted.

Still, no sound came out. Not even a whimper.

And that was enough.

In the blink of an eye, Cypril grabbed my jaw, not gently, not with warning, and crashed his mouth against mine.

My mind went blank.

The kiss wasn’t a question, it was a punishment, a command, an invasion. His lips claimed mine with bruising pressure, his teeth scraping, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth. It wasn’t passion, it was dominance, fierce and consuming.

I shuddered under him, my thoughts scattering like frightened birds. My hands trembled at my sides, debating between surrender and resistance. My heart hammered painfully, fear, anger, humiliation and yet somewhere beneath the storm, something treacherous fluttered.

Want.

No. Goddess no.

I fought against it, against him, against myself. I gathered the last scraps of my strength and pushed against his chest. My palms met muscle, unmoving, unyielding. He didn’t budge an inch.

He only growled low in his throat, a beast satisfied by prey that dared struggle.

The kiss deepened, vicious now, like he was punishing me for daring to exist beneath him. My lungs burned as he gave me no space to breathe. His grip tightened, forcing my mouth open wider as if he wanted to consume every breath I owned.

I tasted iron.

Then blood.

My blood.

Cypril didn’t stop, instead, he seemed to enjoy it, devouring the taste as though pain fed him. Every movement of his lips tore through me, through my thoughts, my identity, my sense of self.

And all I could do was stand there, body screaming, mind fracturing, caught between horror and the terrifying truth that some part of me responded even when I wished it didn’t.

Cypril kissed like he had no mercy.

And I knew…

He wouldn’t be done anytime soon.

It happened on instinct, one wild, desperate burst of strength that came from somewhere deeper than muscle or bone. With a strangled gasp, I shoved him away. My palms slipped against his chest, slick with nervous sweat, but the force was enough to create distance.

Cypril staggered half a step back.

I breathed hard. My lungs clawed for air like drowning creatures, my hands trembling violently. My fingers shot up to my lip, stinging, raw, pulsing with pain and came away stained with blood. Warm, thick, metallic.

My lips were already swelling, puffing beneath my touch. The heat radiating from them contrasted painfully against the chill of terror coursing through me.

I was still dazed, gently running my thumb over the torn skin, trying to understand what had just happened, when Cypril moved again.

Not a kiss this time.

A strike.

His hand cracked across my face so hard my ears rang. My head snapped to the side and for a moment the edges of the world flickered white, like lightning behind my eyes. Then pain bloomed, sharp at first, then hot, then throbbing.

I froze.

My cheek burned. Tears spilled instantly, sliding down in hot, helpless trails. They clung to my jaw, dripping slowly, like a betrayal my body performed without permission.

He had kissed me, violently, possessively, not even a minute ago. And now he hit me like I was nothing. A thing. A toy to be claimed, crushed, thrown.

How ironic.

I wasn’t a mate, or a woman, or even a wolf to him.

Just an object he could devour and then destroy for sport.

“You don’t get to decide when I stop!” Cypril roared, taking a furious step toward me. His voice vibrated through the room, bouncing off the walls, drilling into my skull. “You hear me?”

My breath came in shudders. I forced my gaze upward, meeting his eyes through a haze of tears. The room swam slightly, my vision distorted as though I were underwater.

“Yes, Alpha Cypril,” I whispered.

My voice cracked, breaking on the words like they were too heavy to carry. The admission tasted like ash.

The tears kept falling, hot and endless. I swallowed them along with the ache in my throat. I wondered, distantly, if this was what my life would become, pain, humiliation, obedience to men who hated me yet refused to let me go.

Would every breath be controlled by their whims? Would every moment blur into fear and shame?

My thoughts tumbled, disjointed, broken. My wolf whimpered deep inside me, curling inward, wounded in ways the whip could never reach.

Just then, the sharp creak of the door sliced through the tension.

The knob turned. The frame hit the wall.

And Caleb slid inside.

He paused just past the threshold, taking in the scene—Cypril seething, me trembling, blood streaking my swollen lips.

His expression changed, though I couldn’t decipher what emotion flashed across his face.

My stomach dropped.

Things could only get worse from here.