Page 205 of The Delta's Rogue
“Fuck!” Nuncio screams, grabbing the collar on instinct to tug it away from his neck, but the metal stings his hands, and he drops them as quickly as he grabbed the device. “Shit!” he hisses.
“That doesn’t feel very good, does it?” Sebastian taunts. He holds his hand out, and Rune sends the two wrist cuffs and the chains to him as well.
Nuncio backs away from Sebastian, but I kick him hard in the back of the knees, sending him to the ground right as Rune sends the ankle cuffs flying towards us and they clamp onto Nuncio’s legs.
Through the bond, I feel the sizzling burns the metal gives Sebastian on his hands, but he doesn’t show any hint of pain. All that is on his face is pure, unbridled rage, enhanced by the vengeance and the midnight-black darkness swirling within his aura. He snaps the devices onto Nuncio’s wrists and throws the chains into the air, wrenching Nuncio’s arms up and behind him, dislocating his shoulders as they swivel in their sockets.
I catch the chains and ignore the bite of silver on my skin. It’s nothing compared to the constant pain I was in for the innumerable days Amara kept me imprisoned—days I only experienced because of Nuncio.
The chains attach to the collar on his neck and the shackles on his ankles. His head is yanked backwards, and I slice my claws through the backs of his calves as deep as they can go until I reach the bone.
Sebastian’s eyes flash with primal approval as the blood flows unfettered and Nuncio’s sobs of pain fill our ears.
“P-please,” Nuncio begs. “Please don’t— Please let me—”
“Let you go?” Sebastian raises a brow. “Let you go like you let my mate go? Let you go like you did all the other helpless females you’ve ever laid a hand on?”
“Oh, wait…” I laugh, although there is absolutely no humor in the sound. “You didn’t let us go. You captured us and tormented us and did whatever you wanted with us.”
“I was lying,” Nuncio pleads. “I was taunting her. Trying to scare her. I didn’t touch her in the van. We’re not allowed to touch them.”
Sebastian stares at me over the top of Nuncio’s sniveling form.“We could find out for sure,”he mindlinks me.“Get the truth from him by alpha command.”
My throat constricts, and my empty stomach curdles as the reality of what Nuncio said settles into my bones. The memory of waking up strapped to a gurney in nothing but my bra and underwear replays over and over in my head. The helplessness, the fear, and the vulnerability I felt hit me once more, as strong now as then.
And that thought. That one thought I had, that fear that they’d done more to me than I realized while I was unconscious, nearly breaks me. It threatens to send me down into that gaping pit of brokenness I’ve worked so hard to climb out of.
“I don’t want to know,”I reply.
The answer won’t change anything. All it will do is damage the progress I’ve made on my healing.
Sebastian sets his jaw, then crouches down so he’s eye level with Nuncio. “Maybe you didn’t.” His voice is low and eerily calm. “But even if you didn’t, it doesn’t change everything else you did. It doesn’t erase the crimes, the cruelty, or the way you enjoyed every second of misery you wrought on all those girls. We’re here to make sure you never do any of that again. Ever.”
Sebastian grabs Nuncio’s detached dick from the ground and shoves it into Nuncio’s mouth, forcing it as far back as he can through Nuncio’s snarling, flailing, and gagging. “Taste this, motherfucker.”
Sebastian keeps his hand in Nuncio’s mouth, shoving the dick deeper in Nuncio’s throat. He stands and kicks Nuncio in the groin. The kick deepens the injury and brings a fresh wave of blood. Even with his dick muffling his voice, the sharp noises of pain Nuncio makes as Sebastian kicks him repeatedly in the groin are loud and satisfying.
Each one makes my lycan howl with glee. Each one feeds my need for blood, death, and destruction.
Sebastian gives Nuncio’s crotch one last kick. He shoves the dick even deeper, then spits on Nuncio’s face before backing away from him.
“He’s all yours, my queen.”
He says the words through mindlink. He says them only to me. No one else. But the pride in his eyes, the absolute devotion and commitment, is clear for the world to see.
This man is mine through and through. My mate. My life.Mi vida. My king.
Tears, snot, saliva, and bruises cover Nuncio’s body. Blood dampens the front of his shorts, and the potent stench of fresh shit wafts towards me as I circle him.
His shoulders heave, and his eyes beg me to leave him be, to show him a sliver of mercy.
But it’s too late.
I decided his fate the moment he laid his hands on me in that alley.
I make my way behind him again and dart forward, tearing his fingers off. I rip them from his hands one by one. The memory of him groping me wraps around my throat and chokes my lungs, but I continue detaching his digits with renewed motivation.
With every strike I make against him, with every yelp of anguish from Nuncio, a new memory jumps to the forefront of my mind.
