capable of filling.
He snarls, hearing the vacancy in my voice, and buries himself inside me.
Though if he thinks he’s deep, I’d hate for him to see the size of Zade.
The only reason his cock will ever cause me pain is purely because it’s attached to him.
Working to swallow, I suck my trembling lip between my teeth.
Maliciousness sprouts in his blue eyes, and it’s like watching him pull a black coat over them, the bright color shrouded beneath the darkness.
His hand travels down the planes of my stomach, pausing to dig his thumb into a wound and wring a cry from my throat, before continuing down. He swirls his fingers over my flesh in a taunting manner, an evil smirk curling his lips.
There’s a little sponge in my windpipe, collecting hatred like water and
swelling until my throat is hermetically sealed.
Lightly, he brushes across my center, his eyes sparkling as his fingers find that spot that has my muscles tensing.
“Oh, God,” I breathe, more tears burning the backs of my eyes. I hate that spot—yet another thing he’s aware of.
His eyes blaze, excitement radiating from him.
“Tell me again,” he orders, his voice dipped in sin. I close my eyes, imagining
a scarred face with devilish yin-yang eyes, grinning at me from beneath his hood.
Working to swallow, I rasp out, “I want you.”
It takes effort not to crack when I hear him groan. It’s all wrong. He sounds
wrong, he feels wrong, he’s just… fucking wrong. He smiles when he hears it and rubs harder.
“Say my name, diamond,” he demands.
I set my jaw in response.
I’ll never say it. Never.
He’s been trying since he started visiting, and every effort has been wasted.
When I keep my mouth firmly glued shut, he starts thrusting again while
continuing to stimulate me. My body tenses, a traitorous feeling congregating in
the pit of my stomach. Still, I keep silent, refusing to relinquish more than I
already have.
Xavier thinks I’ve given him nothing, but that’s not true. I’ve given him everything—he just finds no value in what he’s taken from me.
The smooth, unmarked skin he mutilates.
The fragments of my sanity that chip away with every brush of his skin, and
every whispered omen of the day I will be his.
My ability to touch and be touched without wanting to slit my throat open.
My dignity, self-esteem, and the comfort within my body.
My fucking worth.
All meaningless.
Because what he really wants is every broken piece of my soul, and for me to
cherish every broken piece of his.
But my soul is already spoken for—already claimed by a wicked man with
every intention to keep it to himself. And I suppose he’s given me his in return.
I’m just not sure what the fuck to do with it now.
“You’ll say it one day, diamond. You have the rest of your life with me,” he
promises.
My legs clench around his hips as he fucks me harder, bending down to drag
his tongue across my nipple. I grit my teeth, the bile rising in my throat.
“This is mine,” he groans. “All of this is mine.”
His teeth close over the abused peak, biting until my vision blackens with agony, and a scream is tearing from my throat. Even then, he doesn’t relent. Not until blood leaks through the cracks of his teeth, and I’m begging for the knife
instead.
What a tragedy.
Finally, he releases me, a smear of crimson staining his bottom lip. His eyes
are dilated as he pumps his hips faster, his ministrations on my clit quickening.
Gradually, it pulls me away from the fire lancing through the peak of my breast. I inhale sharply—a staccato breath full of sorrow.
The orgasm ravages my body, and oh look— there it goes. Another piece of my sanity.
“I’m getting really tired of looking at fucking Neosporin,” Rio says from
behind me.
Xavier just left for the night. He was particularly brutal, slicing over the healed scars on my back and all across my breasts and stomach. He pushes it a little farther every time.
They said the Culling is designed to weed out those who have endurance—
who can survive anything. But I’m not sure I’ll survive another night with him.
“Sorry,” I mumble, too exhausted to snap at him. My eyes are pinned on the
dozens of tally marks carved into the nightstand, and it’s only depressing me more.
“You’re giving up, princesa,” he sighs, dropping the first aid kit on the bed.
He started calling me that after the Culling, now sounding more like an
endearment than an insult.
Francesca never did relieve him of taking care of me, and neither of us have
bothered to stop it. It will never be said aloud, but I think we both find solace in one another.
“What do you care?” I grouse, training my eyes on the wall. He grabs a few
paper towels and lightly pads the wounds on my back, soaking up the blood.
They just started to scab over from the last time.
Turns out, Francesca didn’t need to be worried about my scars from the car accident. I got lucky enough to find someone who happens to enjoy the sight of them, and then some.
I’m still completely nude, but I’ve grown accustomed to being naked in front
of men considering it happens all the fucking time now. All because I live with a
psycho bitch.
Sydney was particularly pissed about me knocking her out the night of the Culling, so she attempted to cut off my hair with scissors in retaliation. Luckily, Jillian stepped in, and she only earned herself a punishment.
Since then, she has made it her personal mission to frame me for the stupidest
shit any chance she gets—drawing on the walls like a toddler, breaking dishes,
dropping food, and ruining clothing in the beauty room.
Most of the time, I think Francesca knows it wasn’t me, but she’s grown tired
of the incessant squabbling and takes it out on both of us now. Sydney is happy
to accept her fate as long as I’m suffering, too.
I’ve accepted the punishments, though—which always result in a night with
Rocco and his friends. I tried to defend myself at first, but it never made a difference.
“Lucky for you, these have to heal, so no more nights with him until he’s