Page 9 of These Dangerous Fates

He thrusts his hips forward without warning and shoves his cock into my mouth. It hits the back of my throat, making me gag. Tears spring to my eyes as my stomach heaves. He holds it there until the tears run down my cheeks and stars flash in my vision. I try to breathe through my nose but I can smell him. Sandalwood and soap. It makes me gag even more.

“That’s it,” he grunts. “Take it like the little slut you are.”

He pulls back and I suck in a breath before he slams his hips forward again. His hold on my hair prevents me from moving and each thrust tugs at the strands, the pain minimal in comparison to the rest of it. All I can do is close my eyes and ride this out. Saliva, snot, and tears run down my face as he pounds in again and again. His grunts and groans disgust me, as does the musty taste of his precum as it leaks from the tip of his cock. So much assault against my senses—his scent, his taste, his sounds, his cock in the back of my throat. I’m seconds from vomiting up what little is in my stomach.

Sam is so lost in what he’s doing, the presence of his magic diminishes slightly without him realizing. But I do. The burn against my skin is less, and I’m able to move the slightest bit more. With the bonds around my jaw loosened, I don’t hesitate. Without a single thought of the consequences, I bite down as hard as I can against the little restraint holding my mouth open.

Sam roars. He pushes me away and bends forward, grabbing himself protectively. He pushes me hard enough that I slide across the marble kitchen floor. Stars burst in my vision as my head slams into the island and pain flares over my skull. I lay dizzily on the floor for a moment and try to get my bearings. The second I bit down, Sam’s magic disappeared entirely, so my jaw and hands are free. I tentatively prod my head and wince. There is no blood, but it hurts, and a bump is already forming.

My vision clears and I see Sam approaching, slightly bent, with his hand still grabbing himself. His steps are measured and slow, and each one sends a jolt of fear through my veins, chilling me to the core. The look on his face is one I’ve never seen before. His eyes are pure thunderclouds and shadowed under his lowered brows. His lips are pressed into a thin line, and his jaw is clenched so tightly I can see the strain in his neck muscles.

Instinct kicks in, and I know I have to stand up. I grab the counter for support but I’m shaking so bad I miss, knocking off the bowl of salad instead. The bowl shatters on the ground, shards of porcelain skittering across the floor and mixing with the lettuce and veggies, as well as the knife I’d been using.

Before I can get to my feet, he bends down and grabs my ankle, yanking me toward him. I catch myself before my head hits the ground again, but the pieces of the broken salad bowl slice into my palms. The sting barely registers through my fear as Sam crouches over me and glares. My heart is pounding so fast I’m positive it’s going to beat right out of my chest.

“That was the wrong thing to do, princess,” he growls. “You know I’m going to have to punish you for that, and I hate punishing you.”

His mock sympathy brings a hysterical laugh up my throat. The scowl on his handsome face deepens, and he rubs his chin as he decides what to do with me. My thoughts are racing as I try to think of how to get out of this. A glimmer catches my eye, and I notice the knife on the floor. Hope bubbles in my chest. If I can get to the knife, I can protect myself.

His foot connecting with my ribs punches all the air out of my lungs and pops the bubble of hope instantly. I can’t even cry out as I curl into a ball. It takes a second for the pain to register, and when it does, it steals what little breath I had left in my lungs. He kicks me a second time, and a third. The pain is like fire so hot it's cold as it spreads through my torso. I try to protect myself as much as I can, but it’s no use. Sam is too strong and too fast.

“Is that what you wanted me to do?” He crouches in front of me, chest heaving and eyes wild, and he grabs my chin in a bruising grasp. “Did you want me to punish you?”

I am so fucking sick of his treatment and gaslighting. I am so fucking tired of being the one blamed for his actions. In a burst of anger and despair, I spit on him, and it lands on his cheek. “Fuck you, Sam,” I rasp through my wet and labored breathing.

His eyes flash, and I know I’ve gone too far. The world slows down, and for the first time, I’m truly afraid. The fear crashes into me at the same time Sam does. His fists land on my face repeatedly. The burst of pain with each blow makes my vision blacken, and it doesn’t take long before I’m wavering on the cusp of consciousness. I almost hope I’ll pass out. Anything to relieve me of the pain. But he stops and stands. The brief pause of assault on my body doesn’t last long as he draws his foot back then kicks. The snap of bone is drowned out by my screams. Agony tears through my middle like a knife slicing into me.

Knife. My gaze slides to the one on the floor glinting in the kitchen lights. Desperation burning through me, I suck in the largest breath I can manage with my broken ribs and battered body, and reach for the utensil. The blood and cuts on my palm make it difficult to grasp, and Sam just keeps kicking. It’s with fierce determination, and a throat searing scream, that I keep my hold on the handle, sit up, and swing the blade.

It connects with his abdomen, a gash opening and spilling blood that covers me with warm stickiness. Shock almost paralyzes me, but I squeeze the knife harder. Sam freezes in disbelief, mouth slack and wide eyes staring at his open stomach. Using his moment of surprise, I slam the knife into his belly again. This time I hit deep and yank the blade to the right, gritting my teeth as my arm strains to tear through intestine and muscle.

When Sam curses and slumps to the floor on his knees, I drag myself to my feet, groaning and whimpering as pain washes over me. Hunched over, and arms wrapped around my middle, I avoid Sams’s last attempt to grab me. His cursing fades as I stumble my way to my room. The blood coating my arms and hands brings bile to the back of my throat. It’s sticky and thick, starting to itch in the places it's drying and crusting over.

I lock my bedroom door and head to the bathroom, legs shaking so badly I can barely stand. The breath in my chest saws in and out, and the pain from each one sends tears streaming down my face, burning as they encounter the cuts left by Sam’s fists.

What have I done?

Present Day

Ellis

Allie’s name is displayed on my phone screen, and it takes three attempts to swipe to answer the call with my shaking fingers.

“Allie,” I whisper, voice hoarse.

“Are you okay?” Her ability to sense when bad things happen always amazes me. I assume she had a seer in her family at one point. Allie is as human as they come, she just gets these feelings sometimes, and they have never steered her wrong.

“I think I did something horrible.” The edge of the bed dips as I sit down. There is no comfortable position. No matter how I try to sit, some part of my body throbs painfully.

“Talk to me, Ellis,” Allie’s voice is laced with worry. “You’re freaking me out.”

“I … I …” Unable to put into words what I’d just done, I stammer as tears slide down my face.

“Ellis, what is going on? You have to give me something or I’m coming over.”

That gets my attention. I never let Allie come over. The risk of her ending up in the crosshairs of either my dad or Sam isn’t worth it. I don’t think they would do anything to her, but it’s not worth the risk.

“I stabbed Sam.” My whispered words tremble as they fall from my numb lips. The longer that thought sits with me, the more the fear grows. Shaking overtakes my entire body, the movements jarring my bruises and broken bones, sending fire through me.

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