Chapter Seventy-Eight: Straying

Alba

The thumping of my heart will not cease; my body’s frame is hard against the door I slammed in his wake, but my knee’s support leaves me pooling on the cold floor.

The room is dark, and only light from the industrial streetlights pools in from the window, yet that diminishes my need to turn on the house’s lights.

My stomach burns; it is not the alcohol swimming in my veins, enticing bravery where none calls for it, but the seed he spilt on me under his lustful gaze, the growl he voiced on my flesh, his command, his dominance…everything sent my body burning.

His anger has never affected me this way, even with the bond intact; all I wished to do was pacify him, but now…I want more.

I want him to spill more on me, his anger, his rage, his force; I want him to break me.

The pull of my sweater and shirt from my frame was easy. The discarding of my poorly ripped bra, on the other hand, was not because it hung against my bruised flesh like a torn jacket, but thank heaven, his moisture