Page 41 of Delivered to the Devil

Suddenly, the spoon-feeding is a blaring symbol of my powerlessness. I can’t take it. “Please, can I eat on my own?” Pressing my lips together, I reach for the spoon in front of my mouth.

Janos shakes his head, and defeat gnaws deep in my belly as I part my lips to let the spoon in. But when he lowers it to the bowl, I throw my arm out and grab it from his hand. I have no idea what’s gotten into me, and I stare at him with startled eyes as I clutch the stolen item in my hand.

Slowly—too slowly—he sets the bowl aside and reaches for the spoon. I have every intention of giving it back since I don’t want to know the consequences of defying him again, yet I pull my arm back, out of his reach. Apparently, my body and mind won’t cooperate anymore.

Leaning over me, he grabs for the spoon, but a reckless need for control whirs inside me. I’m surprised at how fast I react as I roll across the bed and somehow manage to land upright on the floor.

I set off in a sprint toward the living room, and the annoyed growl behind me spurs me into a hazardous pace. Firm steps follow, but Janos is not in a hurry. He knows there’s nowhere forme to hide. And I realize the same when I end up in the farthest corner of the living room, staring at the giant man closing in.

Janos stops right in front of me, leaving only an inch of space between us. His impassive face gives nothing away. I can’t tell whether he’s angry, irritated, or simply impatient. My pulse rachets up as I wait to find out.

I lift the spoon as a peace offering, but Janos shoves it away with a flick of his hand. The same hand comes up to my throat, fingertips slipping over my skin with a sinister gentleness. Slowly, he wraps his hand around my neck, forcing my head up to make room for the massive size.

I don’t dare to swallow, don’t dare to breathe as I stare up at him. All I can do is plead with him through my eyes as he keeps tightening his grip until it feels like I’m breathing through a straw. He leaves me just enough air to stay conscious, and the world around me slips away as my focus hones in on him and his deadly power. He could snap my neck in an instant—press a little harder and snuff out my breath.

I should be scared, but I’m not. I don’t care what he does to me as long as he’s the one doing it. If he wants to kill me, so be it. Then I’ll escape this nightmare, and his touch will be the last thing I feel.

So I let go. I sink back against the wall and let his hand be the only thing holding me up.

Something flickers across his face. Maybe shock or surprise. Maybe approval. I don’t know. But when I hold the spoon up again—this time a symbol of resignation—it becomes clear. His eyes soften as he takes the spoon, then strokes the back of the same hand across my cheek.

He leans in, dangerously close. His lips hover before mine, his breath coming in long drags that tickle the corners of my mouth. I think he’s going to sneer cruel words as his eyes darken, but instead, he steals what little breath I have left as he crusheshis lips against mine. He invades my mouth, his tongue dancing against mine with passionate, almost violent strokes.

I can’t think.

I can’t breathe.

All I can do is open and let him take. And God, I want him to. I want him to take everything I have left and consume me until I don’t exist beyond him.

The spoon drops to the floor with a clank as his arm shoots around my waist. Yanking me against him, he deepens the kiss and shoves his erection against my pelvis. He’s rock hard and huge, grinding his hips against me and pressing his cock into just the right place. My nerve endings flare alive, and my entire body buzzes with the need for more. I want to rip off the barriers—his jeans and my panties—feel him press against my opening, his cock sliding through my slickness. I want to feel the painful pleasure as he shoves into me, and I want the all-consuming ecstasy as he shoots his come inside me, claiming me in the most primal of ways.

He drives me into a frenetic state. I moan into his mouth and press my body against him. I lean my throat into his hand, wanting more however I can get it. His fingers dig into my waist, and I relish in the pain, letting it drive me higher and higher until I’m on the edge of an orgasm. My legs tense as my inner walls contract. It doesn’t matter that he’s not inside me. Just a little more of this and I’ll explode.

So close. And then everything stops. Janos breaks the kiss and pins my hips to the wall.

“No, no, no,” I beg, my pelvis pulsing painfully. “Please don’t stop. Please don’t.”

Janos furrows his brow in defeat as he watches me, and hopelessness spears my chest. He isn’t stopping because he wants to. He’s stopping because hehas to.

My begging fades, and I slump against the wall. Janos stares off at the floor. When he returns his gaze to mine, a lost look has settled into his gray orbs.

Leaning in, he presses an achingly tender kiss to my forehead. Then he turns his back to me and leaves.

I stare after him breathlessly. He disappears through the hall and leaves the apartment. Even long after the door closes, I’m still staring, hoping he’ll come back.

But he doesn’t.

CHAPTER 19

“Blood Trails to Love”

by Ihsahn

Rebecca

My days fall into a pattern similar to the one in my old apartment. Between Janos’s brief visits to train my ass and the brutal nights with Gabor, I go to work, stare into space, and stare into the river.

Yet everything has changed.

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