Page 25 of Poison Vows

The fear…

All of it has come to a boil that’s so beyond me, and this man, is the source of my ire.

The one who caused my heartbreak.

Yes, he doesn’t love me… but does he hate me enough to throw me away?

“Angel,” he warns again, but I don’t stop.

In a move so fast I don’t even catch it, Emmett sits up with me in his arms.

He shifts into a position where he’s half kneeling, with a raised knee, and then he quickly flips me over it.

Shifting me until I’m lying over his thigh and at his mercy in this precarious position, he holds me down, demonstrating his strength and the futileness of my struggle.

But he doesn’t stop there.

Emmett subdues me with his steely arm, then I feel him lean down to my ear.

“Are you done?” he questions in a voice so sinister and dark, I shudder.

“I hate you!”

“Do you?” he says softly.

Not bothering to wait for my answer, I feel him pull up his shirt that I’m wearing and I feel a breeze on my backside.

Did he just…?

I suddenly feel his touch going lower and lower until his large palm is firmly planted on my ass covered by the boxer briefs he dressed me in.

The shudder that goes through me this time is enough to cause an earthquake.

My breath catches in my throat. My heart jumps and kicks against my chest.

A foreboding sensation tingles somewhere in the back of my mind, but I can’t move.

“Then let me give you an outlet,” he says sinisterly.

With those words, he rips apart the briefs, leaving me bare and exposed right there, in the middle of his large, dark office.

Without warning, I hear the unmistakable sound of the air being sliced before I hear a loud slap… and immediately the painful sensation follows.

I scream.

But Emmett doesn’t care.

He strikes my behind hard, fast without restraint fifteen more times in quick succession, spanking me until my brain scatters.

My skin is burning and itching at the same time… but Emmett doesn’t stop.

“You hate me?” he asks harshly. “You don’t fear death?”

With each strike, I gasp loudly, flinching, trying to get away, but also hold on to him, I’m a mess.

“Your mutiny against death is my fault,” he states in a low, hoarse voice. “I taught you not to fear it, but that doesn’t mean you go around acting like no one can hurt you in the most brutal ways possible.”

The sound of my ass being slapped is so loud and harsh to my ears, but what shocks me even more is that instead of crying, a strange haze descends over me.

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