Chapter 10: Seven time through the night.

Elena's POV

I stopped in the middle of the grand hallway, and my breath snagged somewhere in my throat. 'What did I do this time?'

The silence was heavy enough to lean on. The marble was cold under my bare feet, and the chandeliers threw long, wavering shadows across the walls.

"So, Elena." Damien's voice cracked through the hall like a whip. "It wasn't enough that you tried to run while I was away, and that I had to punish you for it. Now you're fighting with my staff?"

Elsa shrank beside me. Her shoulder trembled against mine, then pulled away, and she fixed her eyes on the floor. All around us the house had stopped moving. The maids stood still with their laundry baskets. The gardeners hovered by the entrance. Mrs. Hale waited at the doorway, her mouth pinched with worry. And across from me were the two women who had taunted me, smiling those small, satisfied smiles. I shouldn't have looked at them. That smirk settled in my chest like a stone, and I knew right then that I had already lost.

His hand shot out. His fingers twisted into my hair and yanked my head back.

"Ahh!" I grabbed at his wrist, but it was like pulling on iron.

"Look at me when I talk to you." His face was inches from mine, and the fury in his dark eyes was almost hard to hold. He didn't care who was watching. He didn't care at all.

"Everyone, back to your duties, please," the butler said quietly.

"There's nothing to see here."

They went slowly, reluctantly, whispering and glancing over their shoulders until the hallway emptied out.

My scalp throbbed, hot and raw. My eyes stung, and I blinked hard to keep the tears back. "Please," I whispered. "Let me go."

He bent closer. I could smell him, something expensive and dark that crowded out everything else. "I don't know what you've done to me, little witch," he said, low and rough. "But you're mine. And you'll give me whatever I want, however I want it."

"Damien..." I gasped as he started hauling me toward the stairs.

My feet slid and stumbled over the tiles. I twisted and pulled, but every attempt only tightened his grip, and every step sent a bolt of pain across my scalp.

"Let go of me, please!" I sobbed.

Dread knotted in my stomach. I knew exactly where he was taking me. I had prayed this moment would never come again. *Maybe if I beg enough, he'll show some mercy.* Even as I thought it, I knew how foolish it was.

He didn't stop until we reached his door.

"Quit fighting, or you'll only hurt yourself." He kicked the door open and shoved me through. I fell hard onto the thick carpet, and pain shot up my side.

"Ah!" I curled over, trying to breathe.

Then I heard the lock turn. That small click rang through the quiet room.

"No… please, no…" Panic flooded me. I remembered the last time I had been in here.

He came toward me, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked. The room seemed to shrink around us. I scrambled backward until my shoulders hit the wall, and there was nowhere left to go.

"Little fox," he said, his voice dropping into something dark and possessive, "by the time I'm done with you, the only name you'll remember is mine."

"Please, Damien. Whatever I did, I'm sorry..."

SLAP

Fire burst across my cheek. I staggered sideways and caught myself before I went down. Before I could steady myself, he grabbed me, dragged me across the floor, and threw me onto the bed. The mattress bounced under me, soft and suffocating.

"Whatever you did?" He towered over me, his chest heaving. "Your father destroyed everything I cared about. Your family is the reason my father is dead. You're here because of a debt that can never be paid, and you ask me why I hate you?"

His words cut, but underneath the rage I heard something else. It was pain, deep and raw and still bleeding.

I tried to crawl away. He caught my ankle and pulled me back. His palm came down hard across my skin, and I flinched with my whole body.

"Please! I'm sorry! Don't, I'll do anything!"

He didn't want apologies. He wanted something else entirely. A low, dark laugh rumbled in his chest as he looked down at me, and the hunger in his eyes frightened me.

His thrust into me with his huge dick felt like I'm going to be torn apart.

Tears now streamed down my face,

"Damien, please I'm begging you... please be gentle.... please...."

But he seems like he isn't listening to my pleas and kept going harde.

His hands were everywhere, turning me, taking, and I stopped fighting somewhere in the middle of it, though I couldn't have told you when.

All of a sudden he stole and grabbed my face.

"Ahhhh"

"Come here little one" He said as he stood up, and made me be on all fours, facing him.

"Now you're gonna suck me, I'm going to furk your little pretty mouth."

He dragged my hair so I can face him properly.

I feel so scared at the sight of his dick and closed my eyes.

"Hey look at me, open your eyes" He commanded.

"Please, no... please"

"What? you're acting innocent now, you think I don't know you've been a slut" He spit on my face and halwed me forward, he puts his hot rod in my mouth taking all my breath.

He didn't let go of me all night. Seven times, I counted, because counting gave my mind something to hold. By the end my throat was raw, my body was sore and marked, and my head was spinning with fear and with something else I wouldn't let myself name. I fell asleep in his arms, or maybe just where he'd left me, shivering and deeply unsettled.

---

Sunlight woke me. It slipped through a gap in the heavy curtains and lay warm across my face. The sheets were softer than anything I had ever touched. I sat up slowly, and the night came back all at once: every touch, every harsh word, every kiss. My body ached from it. I bit my lip and felt heat climb into my cheeks, even as fear twisted tight inside me.

I have to get out of here."

I looked around for my clothes. There was nothing but scraps of fabric on the floor, torn past wearing. I slid off the bed onto my knees and crawled, my arms and legs heavy and weak. "God, please help me," I whispered to the empty room.

I made it to his wardrobe and pulled it open. His scent poured out, cologne and leather and him. I grabbed the first thing I touched, a plain cotton t-shirt. It was huge on me and hung to just above my knees. It covered what it needed to, but I felt painfully bare underneath.

I pushed myself up, steadying myself on the furniture, and shuffled toward the door. My fingers had just found the handle when it swung open from the other side.

Damien filled the doorway. His face gave nothing away as his eyes moved over me: his shirt hanging off my shoulders, my tangled hair, my cheeks still flushed from sleep and everything else. Something dark and intense flickered behind his gaze.

My heart jumped into my throat. I stepped back on instinct and pressed myself flat against the wall.

"Ah!" I clutched the fabric tighter around me. He was the last person I wanted to see. He had hurt me, he had used me, and still, he was the one I couldn't stop thinking about.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, smooth and low. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a soft, final click.