Chapter 24

The tang of blood filled my mouth almost immediately, metallic and bitter. I expected him to yank his hand back, to curse or react in pain. But he didn’t. Instead, his thumb pressed deeper, the motion deliberate, almost punishing.

Fuck!

I gagged, my throat convulsing as his blood coated my tongue, metallic and vile.

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but the sight of him didn’t waver. If anything, his lips curled, and his eyes gleamed with predatory amusement—a wolf savoring his prey’s final thrashes.

“That’s more like it,” he rasped, his voice low and serrated, each word slicing into me like a blade.

His thumb pressed further into my mouth, forcing me to taste more of him, drowning me in the coppery tang of humiliation.

I couldn’t breathe.

My lungs clenched in protest, screaming for air as I twisted and writhed beneath him.

A feral panic ignited inside me, but before I could pull away, his legs coiled around me, his thighs like steel cables pinning my arms.

It wasn’t a hold. It was a trap.

A sharp, paralyzing sense of helplessness erupted in my chest as his strength overwhelmed me.

His legs crushed me like a vice, every ounce of his power focused on rendering me immobile.

Tears broke free, streaking down my face as his hot breath skimmed my lips.

“Stop moving,” he murmured, his voice venom-laced honey.

“And I might spare you. Or don’t—and I’ll enjoy hearing your ribs snap beneath me.”

I didn’t stop.

Defiance burned through my terror, and I twisted harder, my muscles straining against him. But the more I struggled, the tighter his grip became, as if he wanted to see how far I could be pushed before I shattered completely.

I bit down harder on his thumb, desperate to hurt him, to draw blood, to do something to prove I wasn’t utterly powerless.

More of the bitter liquid spilled across my tongue, but he didn’t flinch.

If anything, his grin deepened.

“You think biting me will save you?” His voice was razor-edged mockery. “Go on, little mouse. Try harder.”

My chest screamed as the air in my lungs grew thin. He wasn’t just crushing me physically; he was suffocating me with his presence, his control, his cruelty.

Damn it.

He was going to kill me.

The fight drained from my limbs, and I went limp, letting my head fall forward as my body surrendered to the pressure. My breath came in shallow gasps, each one burning.

His grip loosened—not enough to let me move, but enough to keep me alive.

“See?” he drawled, his voice oozing with condescension. “Even the wildest creatures learn to obey when they’ve been tamed.”

I wanted to spit in his face. Instead, I shivered as he leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear.

“Now be a good little mouse,” he whispered, his tone dripping with venomous pleasure, “and suck. Like it’s your last meal.”

A shudder tore through me as I forced myself to comply, the taste of blood making my stomach churn.

I gagged, my throat convulsing as bile rose. Every nerve in my body screamed to fight, to run, to do anything other than endure this humiliation.

But there was no escape.

When I faltered, his hand tightened painfully around the back of my neck. His disappointment was palpable, his gaze cold and unyielding.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” His tone was laced with disdain, as though I were a broken toy that had failed to meet his expectations.

This asshole!

Does he think all women are born sluts?

That pleasing men is the only purpose we have in life?

I glared at him, my silence speaking volumes, but it only seemed to amuse him further. He clicked his tongue and ran a hand through his hair as though I were an inconvenience.

“Pathetic,” he muttered, pulling his thumb free. I collapsed forward, choking and gasping as air flooded my lungs. My palms hit the cold floor, trembling as I tried to steady myself.

And then I felt it.

Warmth.

His palm rested on my head, deceptively gentle. The gesture froze me in place, confusion warring with the raw hatred coursing through my veins.

“You’ll learn,” he said softly, almost tenderly, though the malice in his voice cut through any illusion of kindness. “You’ll learn, little mouse. And I’ll enjoy every second of teaching you.”

He pushed back his chair and stood, towering over me like a shadow, suffocating and inescapable. I flinched instinctively, scrambling backward—but in my haste, my head smacked against the table’s edge. Pain exploded in my skull, sharp and blinding, as I cradled my head with trembling fingers.

Killian didn’t so much as blink.

“Clean up the mess,” he said, his voice as cold as stone, “and then go prepare yourself.”

His words were a death sentence, final and unyielding.

He turned to leave, his footsteps echoing through the suffocating silence. At the door, he paused, his silhouette sharp against the dim light.

“We have a ceremony tonight,” he said without looking back. “You’ll be presented as my queen.”

And then he was gone.

I sat there, trembling, my heart pounding in the fragile cage of my ribs. The blood on my lips was warm, sticky—a reminder of the power he wielded over me.

I glanced down and saw it.

A crimson trail leading toward the door.

His blood.

I’d bitten him hard enough to draw it, to leave a mark.

A small, bitter smile curled my lips.

Maybe queens didn’t win battles. Maybe they didn’t even survive them.

But queens could still leave scars.

And I promise to leave one deep ugly one on his frozen heart.