Page 31 of Beg the Night

“If you go near her again, I’ll kill you.” I angled in closer and wrapped one hand around his neck. “If you so much as look at her, I’ll kill you. She’s mine, and you are nothing. You shouldn’t even be allowed to breathe the same air she does. Do you understand me?”

He thrashed and panicked beneath my tight grasp. As if that would save him. As if that would make me change my mind.

He should know better. They all should. I had no empathy. I was a monster. All humanity had long ago been scraped from me. Now I was an empty, cavernous void with nothing but death on my mind.

Pity? I had no pity.

I released him, and as he crumpled to the ground, I stepped over his useless body, barely burying the urge to give him a strong kick to the head to end his miserable life.

On second thought, maybe I was becoming a better man.

But I doubted it. I really, really doubted it.

I moved to a spot across the room, making sure I was as far away from her as possible. Even being close to her made me lose my damn mind. I couldn’t think straight when she was near. I couldn’t focus.

She did that to me. A venomous little snake infiltrating this dungeon.

My skin prickled with annoyance at the thought. I could barely stand the sight of her, and that was before she strutted outhere naked. Every man here had now seen what was mine, what was owed to me by the claiming.

I hated her. I did.

Anger burned hot even as my dick kicked in my pants at the memory. It was the magic in my veins that clouded my senses, that caused these wicked thoughts of possessing her to flood me.

Wicked, wicked thoughts.

Thoughts about my hands gripping her small, perfect waist. Images of her writhing beneath me, impaled on my cock, moaning my name and begging me for more. Thoughts of her smooth, round breasts in my mouth.

I hated her for making me think these things. I hated my power for making me think these things.

Even across the dungeon, her toned legs glowed like a beacon in the moonlight, torturing me. She had pulled my shirt down to cover her ass, but the amount of skin still exposed was enough to make my heart take off at a sprint. And that wouldn’t do.

With her clothes in my hand, I marched over to the cot where she and Mags sat, whispering to one another. I didn’t even look at them as I tossed her clothes onto her lap and retreated to my own cot.

Their conversation stopped, and though I refused to look their way, I felt her eyes on me, burning holes into my back as I kicked off my boots.

“Do you want your shirt back?” she asked.

“Keep it,” I forced out through gritted teeth. “You’ve probably ruined it with your scent, anyway.”

“Hey!” Mags interrupted. “She just showered, and you’re welcome for that, by the way.”

I looked at my sister. At her guileless blue eyes and her good-natured scowl. She was still so…her. Like this world hadn’t forced her to turn to stone. Like she was still unscathed. She was still whole. I was thankful she could still smile. Laugh. Play.But it was difficult not to envy her. To fight the bitterness, the constant ache I felt for the life I had to leave behind for the sake of survival.

I could no longer remember what it was like to be happy. To feel whole.

It was as if a time like that never truly existed.

“You think I should be grateful for the way she ended up traipsing around naked in front of the whole dungeon? Okay, then thanks, Mags.” I looked away before her face crumpled in disappointment the way I knew it would. She looked exactly like Mother when she did that, and I was too close to unraveling to allow any kind of emotion to seep in.

“You don’t have to be rude to her,” New Girl argued. “We were having a perfectly fine time before you tramped over here.”

“And delivered your pants? Put them on. I’m tired of looking at your legs.” I was being harsh, I knew that, but I no longer remembered how to be anything other than brutal. Brutal was how I survived. Brutal was howwesurvived. If they hated me, good.

They should hate me.

After a few long seconds, fabric rustled behind me.Thank fuck.I fought the urge to turn, to watch her slide the trousers up those toned, pale legs. And then I hated myself even more for picturing the way her thighs would look spread open for me.

I laid back on the cot and turned on my side, putting my back to the two.

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