Page 12 of The Queen's Serpent

Chapter seven

Diego

“Humans are obsessed with pain.We fall in love, we prolong our own depressions,and we ask to be let down by having hopes and expectations.”

Soft Grung

I move towards the room Issy is confined to, and even before I make it through the door, I can hear the destruction she’s in there causing. The sound of items slamming against walls and the floor, and her high-pitched screams vibrate through the solid wood door.

I take deep, fortifying breaths to prepare myself for what I’m about to see, and to help control the anger racing through my veins like hot lava. The way I’m feeling right now, I could do some serious damage to her if she pushes me with her vicious viper tongue.

I unlock the door and storm into the room, prepared to have to subdue her, but the sight that greets me has my eyebrows meeting my hairline.What. The. Fuck. Utter destruction and chaos are all over the room. The little psycho has even managed to flip the king-size mattress off the solid wood four-poster bed, and it’s now haphazardly thrown on the floor. All the bed linens are strewn across the floor, and shards of glass are everywhere from the items she has thrown in her tantrum.

Dark sapphire eyes filled with malice meet mine from across the room; her face is flushed, and her long, dark hair a rat’s nest. She looks like one of those Greek goddesses of destruction they write about in fables, possessed with power.Erinysin herdivinity. Fuck, just looking at her staring back at me with wrath and defiance makes me want to throw her to the floor, and fuck the anger and fight right out of her.

My cock begins to harden at the possibility of doing just that. Maybe I’ll wrap my fingers around her delicate throat and choke the fucking life out of her, while I’m filling her with my cum, for her insolence and the daring move she just tried.

“YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” She screams at me, before rushing across the room and lunging at me. Her nails manage to slice down the side of my neck, before I restrain both her hands behind her back, and hold her at arm’s length. That doesn’t stop her attempts to get at me, though. The little tempest tries her best to kick and knee me in the balls.

Her attempts are amusing, and if it wasn’t for the disturbing fucking reason I’m actually here in the room, I might actually let her play for a bit to see how far she could take it before she exhausts herself. I take a good look at her, and I see the signs that Raphael and Santiago mentioned. Ones I’ve missed because I couldn’t bear to look at her, knowing I caused her harm. I’ve been a coward, hiding in other parts of the compound instead of at her side.

Her pupils are large, her skin clammy, and her pulse is beating rapidly in her neck, like a trapped hummingbird. She can’t hold my stare or hold still at all. Her body vibrates with a sickening energy that seems unnatural to the woman I know.

The little she-devil is practically foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog, one that needs to be put down, except I won’t end her, not ever. My grip on her tightens, and I shake her like a rag doll. Her bottom lip trembles as she tries to avoid my glare, her beautiful eyes darting to desperately look around the room for an escape. She can look all she wants, but there will never be an escape from me.

“Are you an addict, Issy? My men tell me that you are.” I grip her tighter until a wince leaves her pouty lips. “That, in fact, you are a drugged-out whore, one who would do anything for a hit of morphine. One who would attempt to seduce them, and offer herself up in exchange for drugs.”

The rage that is infiltrating every part of me beckons me to force her to her knees until she begs for my mercy, but the problem with that is that once I have her down there, there is a good chance I am going to stop her from breathing, maybe even permanently. “Is that fucking true,Princesa? Would you do anything for another taste?“ I release her, and she stumbles backward, falling to her ass with a pained cry.

I pull the glass bottle from my pants pocket and hold it between my fingers, her eyes immediately narrowing on it and her breath picking up. A small moan escapes her lips as she tries to scramble back to her feet.

“You were willing to seduce Raphael to get another taste of this, weren’t you, my little slut?” I wave it back and forth, and her eyes track the movement, like a dog with a treat being offered to it; she’s practically salivating.

“Or maybe I should be calling you my drug whore? That’s what you are, isn’t it, Issy? That’s what you have always been? I was just too blinded by your beauty and wealth to see it.” I take a step closer to her and her eyes widen dramatically. “Those whispered stories your grandmother did her best to squash, about you fucking dealers for coke were true, weren’t they?”

I had heard about the gossip surrounding her when I researched her sister, Mia. One must know everything they can use to conquer an enemy and claim a prize, and at the time, I thought her sister was to be my prize, my wife, whether she wanted to be or not. Of course, I assumed the rumors were just malicious gossip about an entitled Manhattan princess, maybe one who partied a little too hard, and had made enemies alongthe way. Never in a million fucking years would I have believed that they were, in fact, true.

Yet here I am, watching her lose her shit, not the heir to one of the world’s largest fortunes, not a sophisticated and well-bred billionaire princess, but a girl ready to sell her soul and body for the oblivion a drug can temporarily give her.

Weak. Wasteful. Disappointing.

I want to be disgusted by her. I want to throw her back in that fucking hole to die, but I can’t, because a substantial irrational part of me can’t be away from her. I can’t give her up, even though everything is telling me she will never survive my world. This behavior, this fucking weakness, her having an addiction is a huge complication, one I never imagined having to plan for.

How the fuck does one plan for the girl they want to own every single delectable inch of, to marry one day and breed so she pops out spawn after spawn, to be an addict and willing to give herself away, like she’s worth nothing instead of priceless?

“Please… please, Diego.” Her voice is so small, and she sounds so beaten and fragile, begging me for what she perceives as oblivion. Doesn’t she know that one hit will never be enough, that she will be begging for more for the rest of her life? The drugs will consume her until there is nothing left of her, and then they will eventually take her away from me. I can’t let that happen, not now, not ever.

Fury and disappointment at the situation and her weakness fill me, and I dangle the bottle before her, watching as beads of sweat appear on the side of her face, and trail down skin I long to mar with my touch.

“Remove your clothes, Issy,” I hiss the words at her with venom in my tone, and she momentarily stares back at me, a lone tear sliding down her pretty face before she swipes at it.Such a pretty broken doll.

“Show me how weak you really are, slut. Show me what you are willing to do for another fix.” I can feel the tic in my jaw pulsating as my breathing speeds up. I watch her grab the hem of the dress I provided her with, as she raises it up above her knees, then higher, until her pretty pink pussy is on display to my eyes. She doesn’t stop until the dress is over her head and being thrown to the floor, as her chest rises and falls rapidly.Fuck.

“Give it to me, Diego, please,” she whimpers. She’s so needy and desperate, and it both makes my temperature rise and disgusts me in equal measure. Who has damaged her so badly to turn her into this creature before me?

“Get on your knees, whore.”

Her eyes squeeze shut for a moment, as more tears silently make their way down her face. They call to me, begging me to show her kindness instead of cruelty, but I can’t and won’t. I keep picturing her offering herself to Raphael in my mind. My mind conjures the image of her willingly letting men fuck and use her for their depravity, all while she’s high as a kite.

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