Chapter 7

Zahra's POV

The backs of my knees hit the bed as he drives me back, pressing me down onto the mattress. His hands are everywhere, grabbing, kneading, pawing at me like I’m not even a person. My stomach churns, heat crawling up my throat. I want to scream, but I don’t. I know better.

Then, mercifully, he stops. He sits back on his heels, chest heaving, eyes bright with something ugly. Relief shudders through me, but it doesn’t last.

“Get on your knees,” he orders, voice like iron.

I blink at him. “Eli, what?”

“Now!” he snaps. The shout cracks the air, sharp and dangerous.

Before I can move, his hand whips across my face. Pain explodes along my cheek, shocking me still. My mind goes very quiet. It is like I am watching it from somewhere else in the room instead of inside my own body.

He has never hit me before. Too tight grips, yes. Finger-shaped bruises, yes. But never this.

Zanthe roars in my head, wild and uncontrollable, slamming against the walls of my mind. It takes everything I have to force her back, to stop her from breaking free.

A burning sting sears my scalp as his fist closes in my hair. He yanks me upright, drags me off the bed like I weigh nothing. My knees crash to the floor.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, voice rough and certain.

Confusion fogs my mind—until I see him unfastening his belt, dragging down the zipper.

Realization slams into me. My heart stutters, then pounds against my ribs. My stomach flips.

Oh god. He’s not going to—

But he is.

He’s already shoving his boxers down, his cock springing free, thick and heavy in his hand. I freeze. I’ve never seen one this close before. Sure, training means you catch glimpses when people shift back and forth, but never like this. Never hard. I’ve felt Eli’s through his boxers when he made me rub him, but at least there had been a barrier. This is raw, up close, and too fucking real.

He grips himself tight, stroking once, twice, eyes locked on me. Then he leans in, voice low and commanding.

“Do it. Open up and suck me.”

The words slam through me, heat flooding my cheeks with shame and embarrassment. I’ve never done this before. Never even thought about it. But the look in his eyes tells me there’s no backing out.

My lips part as he guides himself toward me. The first touch of him against my tongue is strange—hot, salty, overwhelming. I try to breathe through my nose but my body won’t listen, and my lungs feel like they’re on fire.  He groans as I wrap my lips around him. His hand tightens in my hair, guiding me deeper until the weight of him hits the back of my throat. His fist knots in my hair, yanking, and the sting brings tears to my eyes.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, holding my head steady as he begins to move. “Just like that.”

At first his rhythm is slow, almost testing, but it doesn’t last. His pace quickens, rougher, deeper, and suddenly he’s fucking my mouth with a desperation that leaves me gagging for breath. My hands claw at his thighs, trying to steady myself as the taste and the pressure overwhelm me. Humiliation burns hot across my skin.

Tears stream down my face. This is degrading. Dehumanising. And all I can think is that if Zanthe wasn’t caged behind the block I’m holding, she’d take control and bite his dick clean off. The thought almost makes me choke. But I can’t. He’s, my boyfriend. I’m supposed to do this for him. I have to.

“You’re so good at this,” he groans, thrusting harder. “Goddess, Zahra, your mouth is so fuckable.”

The praise sparks a pathetic flicker of relief. At least he’s happy. At least I’m making him happy. Maybe then he’ll stop being so angry…If he’s happy, maybe he won’t be cruel tomorrow.

“Don’t stop,” he growls, grip tightening painfully in my hair. “Swallow it all.”

His hips slam into me, harder and harder, until his cock hits the back of my throat with every thrust. I can’t breathe. Pain shoots through my jaw and my throat burns. Then suddenly he stiffens, shudders, and hot spurts flood my mouth. The taste is vile, salty and bitter, and I gag, choking as it forces its way down.

I try to swallow, but some spills when I retch. It dribbles down my chin, sticky and humiliating. Eli’s eyes snap down, and his expression hardens.

“Too good to swallow my cum now, are we?” His face is blank. Not angry. Not hurt. Just cold. Like I am an object that malfunctioned.

“Of course not,” I rasp, my throat raw, tears still streaming. “It was just… a lot. I’ve never—”

I don’t finish. Pain explodes in my stomach as his fist slams into me, doubling me over. Air rips out of my lungs and I collapse onto the floor, clutching myself. I’ve trained for years to avoid hits like that. Close-quarters, unexpected—it hurts like hell.

Before I can draw breath, another blow cracks into my ribs. Something pops, hot and sharp, and my whole side lights up. Suddenly breathing becomes impossible.

I cry out, curling in on myself. My vision blurs as I look up at him. Eli towers over me, face twisted, his foot cocked back for another kick.

“You ungrateful bitch!” he snarls. “All fucking year you’ve been teasing me. Now, when I finally let you give me what I deserve, you spit my cum out like I’m nothing! You’re pathetic. A fucking prude. I should dump you right here. I’ll go home single, find myself a real warrior at the task force—someone I won’t have to babysit or put up with this half-assed shit!”

He spits the words like poison. Then he zips himself up, tucks himself away, and strides out of sight, leaving me crumpled on the floor.

I stay curled on the floor long after the door slams shut behind Eli. The dinner bell rings somewhere down the hall, but I don’t move. My body aches, my throat is raw, and I am sure as shit not going anywhere near him again tonight.

Eventually, I push myself upright, every motion sending fire through my ribs. My cheek throbs too, tender where his hand caught me. I drag myself to the bathroom and step under the shower, letting the water pound down on me. Heat seeps into my skin, loosening the ache just enough to breathe.

Zanthe is still locked behind the block I threw up. She cannot feel my pain, cannot heal me. I know she won’t. Not right away. She’ll say it was my fault for blocking her out. She hates it when I block her. and she’s always pissy when I let her in again.

Slowly, carefully, I let the block fall, bracing myself for her tirade as I do.

The second it’s gone, she slams into me.

‘If you ever block me out again, Zahra, we’re going to have serious words.’ Her snarl reverberates in my skull. Then she stops mid-pace. I can feel her turn, her fury spiking.

‘What the fuck did that bastard do to you?’

Her voice is deadly calm, the kind of calm that promises carnage. I knew she’d react this way. That’s why I kept her out.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I whisper back, even in my own head my voice is small. ‘I didn’t do it well enough. I think he dumped me.’

‘Good.’ Her tone sharpens into a blade. ‘You are not going near that fucker again. If he touches you again, Zahra, I’ll rip his throat out.’

Despite everything, my chest tightens with something like relief. Goddess, I love having her.

‘I’m sorry,’ I murmur. ‘For blocking you out.’

Her pacing slows. She exhales, low and furious. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t protect you from him.’

‘He’s my boyfriend, Zanthe. You don’t need to protect me from him.’

Her growl rattles the back of my skull. ‘Exactly. I shouldn’t have to protect you from your boyfriend. Don’t you see how fucked up this is?’ And there it is. The part I cannot look at. Because if I say it out loud, if I admit it, then I have to leave him. And if I leave him, I have no one. I grip the shower rail, throat tight. ‘I disappointed him.’

‘A real man wouldn’t lay a hand on you, no matter how disappointed he was.’

I don’t reply. Because I don’t know how. Because deep down, I know she’s right. But Eli has been the only one who stayed. The only one who didn’t leave me or break his promises. And if I lose him, what’s left?

The water beats against my skin, but it doesn’t wash that thought away.