004: HATRED IS AN UNDERSTATEMENT

ARYA

“Impossible, you can't be my mate," I spat, fury boiling in my blood.

His eyes sparkled as though he was enjoying this. Bastard. If fate had the audacity to tie me to someone like him, I'd burn that fate to ash.

Our gazes locked as he leaned in, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"Why not?"

My rage surged within me. I didn't think. My knee flew upwards, aiming for his ribs. But he moved faster, catching me mid-motion. His hands gripped my thighs, pinning me down under him.

We were so close, I could feel his manhood stir.

Disgust churned my stomach.

Bloody perv.

He had to be a sadist.

What kind of man got aroused from being attacked?

"I, Arya Nightshade, reject you—" I started to say, but the words were ripped from my throat.

"Silence," he hissed, and I felt it like a noose tightening around my soul. Compulsion linked with dark magic. It was the kind that burned.

Tears prickled the corners of my eyes as my voice was stripped from me.

"From this moment, you are forbidden from rejecting me," he said in an icy voice.

My lips parted in defiance, but all that escaped was a pathetic croak.

"You must hate me," he casually said as if this wasn't a brutal violation. Not only had he stripped me of my peace, but he'd also stripped me of my choice.

"Hatred is an understatement," I snarled, feeling my brown contacts burning away to reveal my lilac eyes. It sometimes happened when I got too emotional. I watched the flicker of interest bloom across his features.

He was fascinated.

But then he laughed. That smug, unbothered sound twisted something in me. It was the kind of laugh that said I was nothing more than entertainment. A toy that existed for his own use.

"Is this amusing to you?" I demanded, but he ignored me, his eyes still sparkling with unhinged amusement.

And at that moment. I wanted to bury my claws into his throat. If only I had a wolf...

Abruptly, he let me go and eased out of bed.

I struggled to a sitting position, my muscles stiff with tension. And he... he just... turned away from me, hiding his arousal like it hadn't just been on full display. I felt sick.

"You can leave now. Get yourself cleaned up."

And so I slipped out of the bed and stormed out of the room. I needed a plan to take him down, and I couldn't think with the stench of his scent clouding my thoughts.

…

The scent of dried herbs and cinnamon hung in the air as I slipped into the kitchen. My throat was dry with thirst and my stomach ached from hunger. But I didn't know how to ask for anything. Not when I felt like a hostage.

The kitchen was quiet, so I assumed that there was no one in it. But then, I saw the woman from before.

Aunt Sallie.

She stood with her back to me, ladling tea into a porcelain cup. Her brown hair was pulled into a low knot at the nape of her neck, and her shoulders were stiff.

She didn't look at me when she spoke.

"He's back to his human form, isn't he?" She asked, and I looked away, my mood dampening even more at the mention of the Tribrid Alpha.

"Take this to him." She turned and held the teacup out to me. Her expression was unreadable, but for a second, warmth flickered in her eyes.

I hesitated. "Why me?"

She pursed her lips. "Because he asked for it."

It had to be a lie.

He would never ask for something so mundane. She hadn't poured this tea for him. She'd poured it for me to give to him.

I took it slowly, my fingers brushing hers. The cup was warm.

Sallie finally met my gaze. "Don't try anything stupid, girl."

I lifted a brow. "Like what? Stabbing him with a teacup?"

She didn't smile. "I've seen that look in your eyes before. The world has probably handed you the short end of the stick one too many times. You think revenge will settle something inside you."

"It won't?"

"It might," she admitted. "But not the way you expect."

I glanced down at the cup.

She sighed and turned back to the counter, her voice quieter now. "He's not the man he used to be. Most days, I don't even know what's left of him."

I stayed silent. I didn't want to feel sympathy for a monster.

"He wasn't always like this," she added. "There's been so much pain and loss around him. Sometimes I think he's forgotten how to feel anything except hunger."

"Then maybe it's better if someone reminds him what pain feels like," I said flatly.

Sallie looked over her shoulder. "Maybe. But not today."

Her voice was softer when she spoke again.

"Whatever he is... whatever you are to him... I don't think it's an accident. So be careful."

I didn't answer.

With the cup in my hand, I turned and walked out of the door.

...

I lingered at the entrance of his study, my free hand curling into fists. Through the half-closed door, I could see him sitting on his chair, his eyes closed.

His chest was heaving and his brows were deeply creased as though he was trapped in nightmares. Good. Monsters like him deserve such.

Deciding to turn away and allow him to drown in his misery, I started to move away. But then, his voice stopped me.

"Who's there?"

I froze, tightening my grip on the handle of the cup.

"I know you're there."

Letting out a sigh of annoyance, I turned back and opened the door, stepping into his study. I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, refusing to look at him.

"Sallie asked me to bring this to you," I deadpanned. I could feel his heavy gaze lingering on me as I placed the cup of tea on his desk and hurried back towards the door.

The last thing I wanted to do was spend another minute there alone with him.

"Stop."

My body froze instantly.

"Turn around."

I obeyed, keeping my head bowed as fury simmered inside of me.

Suddenly, he was standing in front of me with the cup of tea in his hand.

"You poisoned my tea, didn't you?"

I raised my head slowly, meeting his piercing gaze.

The amused glint in his eye made me want to scream.

"I wouldn't try something so risky," I said coldly.

But he wasn't done.

He lifted the cup over my head and tipped it over without warning.

I gasped as the hot liquid spilled over my head, drenching my hair, my face and clothes. It stung.

At this point, I was trembling with fury.

His eyes dipped lower, lingering on the swell of my breasts through my wet shirt. I dug my nails into my palms, infuriated.

He stepped closer, bile rising up my throat when he traced a finger along my jaw.

Then he moved even closer, and I backed away until my spine hit the wall. He was too close now, his scent was making me dizzy with an unsettling desire.

He leaned in, his lips brushing mine. Heat flared through my veins, and my body betrayed me with a tremor I couldn't suppress, my chest heaving.

And just like that, he pulled back, smirking like the devil himself.

"If there's nothing left to say, I should get going," I snapped and spun around on my heels.

"Tonight, I want you in my room," he suddenly said, and I stiffened.

"Fighting me will do you no good."

I turned slowly, my chest rising and falling with every ragged breath.

"What?" I spat. "Are you going to kill me just like you killed your first mate?"

For a split second, he went so still that he was barely breathing.

Then he moved, wrapping his hand around my throat, his eyes glowing with menace.

"Say that again."