Content Note:This chapter depicts moments of violence and coercion. Please read with care if these topics are sensitive for you.Grunts filled the room, low, animalistic. A pleased sound followed, thick with self-satisfaction as Bellinor leaned back, breath ragged. His expression was feral, almost demonic, twisted with ownership rather than passion. Sweat trailed down his temples, yet his grip never loosened.“Tell me you enjoyed that, my mate,” he murmured darkly, pressing himself against Alinta as though staking a claim.Her eyes were hollow, their vibrant hues dulled to ash.“Answer me!” His fingers tangled brutally in her hair, forcing her head back.She spat in his face. There was no fear in her gaze, no submission, only hatred blazing through the emptiness.The first strike split the air. The second followed swiftly. The third carried no rage at all, only entitlement.–A gasp tore through the quiet.Orion jolted upright, his heart racing in his chest, his breath uneven in the
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