Chapter 81: Fire in her Veins

If at this moment, Della could take off her own body, leave it lying there on the platform and run out of this disgusting room, she would.

Even if she had felt it coming — had felt his eyes and his fingers and his lips delving lower, nothing could possibly prepare her for the actual ripple of something she couldn’t even describe, something so suffocatingly eerie it had her vibrating against the stone.

She could feel her breasts being kneaded, her nipples ran through, and every second felt like a piece of what made her human was being stripped away from her.

Enduring a torture so heinous, she wanted to puke, but each time the feeling made it up her throat, it would stop right where her gag was and then flood back down to her stomach, crashing and reigniting the pain in her chest.

She wanted heavily, her eyes heavy and flooded with tears she had so desperately tried to hold, but anytime the foreign hand touched her skin, or she felt his tongue on her, or the odd sensation of him smiling down at her body, her body would jerk uncontrollably and she didn’t even realise the tears had come till they had soaked the blindfold, running down to her ears.

The murmurs below her were getting louder, a buzz of excitement taking over the air that had once been tense.

Especially the men.

Hell, even the women looked at the sight and couldn’t take their eyes off it.

Some were even beginning to wonder why such a law had been buried in the first place. Those times when this law had been a stronghold were probably one of the golden ages in werewolf history, but they wouldn’t understand how it felt to be a slave.

Till they were in her position one day, and made to lie here, feel like the Moon Goddess is staring shards into your soul — or was it Malachi? While some horny stranger and his corruptive heat laid his hand all over your body simply because he can.

Being made to pay for crimes she never committed. Being made to lie here and take it all, while they began snickering between themselves and passing over the booze, their tongues rolling as they awaited their turn.

Some probably wished they were Conan, especially with the way he was currently licking the sweat that was rolling down her belly, his tongue making her toes twitch and her mind curl in ways that shouldn’t be possible.

Screams and screams made their way up, followed by vomit... but she was constantly reminded of the choking gag. The painful cloth that felt more like it was stuffed deep into her soul than down her throat.

"Fuck, you taste so good," She heard him whisper against her belly button, his voice hoarse with need. Now, she wished they had gagged her ears instead of her mouth.

It didn’t take long before his gaze fell between her legs, and this time a noise did manage to make it past the cloth. Saliva rolled down the side of her mouth, disappearing to the back of her neck.

If veins could twist, they’d probably be in coils right now with the way she was feeling.

His hands dragged up her thighs, a strangled breath of desire barely controlled leaving his lips as he kept climbing higher, eyes fully dilated and almost glowing under the Moonlight.

A predator’s eyes on their prey.

The moment his fingers pressed against the inside of her folds, all hell broke loose within her. She strained so hard that the chains creaked as she forced her strength against them, her back arching from the stone biting into her naked skin.

There was a small pause.

Total silence.

Then, a horde of laughter erupted from the crowd beneath her at the lousy attempt she’d just made.

Two fingers plunged into her, and a worse reaction came out of her, earning more laughter around her.

She could imagine Beatrice pretending to feel for her, while crackling like a witch when no one was looking.

She could see Selene smiling triumphantly, those brown eyes of hers looking absolutely satisfied at the sight.

If Jaime or Evangeline were present today, they’d fall on their knees, eyes bright with their hands clasped together like this was their prayers answered.

And Malachi...

He was probably the most fulfilled man in the room right there.

No mate bond tether to bother him, hence he couldn’t feel anything ounce of what she felt anymore.

That would allow the ever-explosive, monstrous anger in him to take the crown and sit in place of his heart.

More tears rolled down her face, and she wanted to die right now. She wanted to just die and get it all over with. She didn’t want a hundred men’s cock to have stabbed in and out of her first before the deity of death would finally decide it was time.

She wanted to die right now!!!

That was the only thing that could save her right now.

Her enemies had won.

Those who spat on her, who trampled on her, who physically abused her, who made her cry, who crushed her spirit and her soul, who had looked at her and said she was a curse...

They had all won.

She wanted to yell it out loud.

She wanted to burst out like a flame and tell them all that they had won.

But their laughter only grew worse.

And she almost didn’t notice Conan’s pants were now on the floor, till she felt his hard, straining cock right at the tip of her clenching body.

Panic hit again.

But they didn’t care.

Even if it ripped her apart from cell to cell, taking its time to instil the cruellest torture, they didn’t.

They all cared about themselves. They were all waiting for Conan to be done, so their turns could come.

"Rotblood," She heard herself say in a silent whisper.

Or maybe, it wasn’t.

For it didn’t particularly sound like her voice.

For in that moment, something... monumental happened to her.

Something she had long given up on.

And it slammed into her so hard that she didn’t need much strength — a driving force that had suddenly swallowed her while roaring fire into her veins — and those burning wrists and feet that had been fighting against the chains...

Finally broke them all.