CHAPTER16
Shelaine
The chapel looms up ahead, and the sight alone sends shards of pain into my heart. His voice was pure agony, as if the thought of giving me up gave him such grief. But why then? Why do this? He doesn't have to force me to marry him.
Nausea floods my gut as he parks and gets out to open my door. I have to make a choice. It’s either tie myself to him or go back to Malum. I’m not stupid. I’m not naive. Even if I ask Dean Anderson to separate us, Luke’s dad can still take me back.
I was kidnapped once before; it will be nothing for them to do it again. Malum is the place of my nightmares, and if I’m dragged back there again, who knows what’s going to happen to me? The absolute terror of what awaits me is the only reason I can even fathom joining Luke in his insanity. Places like that don’t take kindly to slaves running away from a client.
Dread fills my veins with ice water as we walk up to the doors and head inside. I’d never been in here before. There was never a need. I wish I could take the time to truly appreciate the ornate beams that swoop in and about the ceiling. The pews are stunning, with intricate details carved into the swirls.
Up ahead is the priest. I’ve seen him a few times when he had meetings with Dean Anderson, but I never really spoke to him. Off to his side is Todd and some nameless girl, his submissive of the week, no doubt. They stand off to the side as witnesses to this sham of a marriage.
Blood pounds into my ears, blocking out all the sounds around me. I know the priest is speaking. I know he’s reciting vows and spouting romantic nonsense that doesn't apply in our situation, but I can’t comprehend any of it. I only know it’s my turn when Luke squeezes my hand in his, forcing my brain to the present.
It’s time. I really have no other recourse. I’ve gone through every possible scenario, and the only one I feel like I can truly survive is saying yes to Luke. This isn’t how I wanted it, but I was going to get married sometime. Why not now? Why not save my life? I stare up into his eyes, my stomach churning. I have to say yes. It’s all I can do.
“I do.”
With those two little words, I’m now bound to a madman that makes me both terrified and aroused. I shouldn’t be dripping wet from the way he dragged me to the altar, but underneath all my protestations, there’s that very real surge of arousal at knowing he wants me so desperately.
If I think about it rationally, it’s his need and fear of losing me that’s forcing me here to the altar. But on the flip side of the coin, it’s my need for safety and fear of commitment that wanted me to run far away.
When Luke’s lips press against mine, it wipes out any rational thought. It’s no longer a question of if I want to marry him or not; it’s a question of how soon I can get him back in between my thighs.
I detest this about me. No sex should be so good that I just forget that he’s bound me to him in marriage without my permission. Though, granted, that part is a little blurry. He gave me every opportunity to say no. He allowed me to leave, to walk away from all of this.
He may have held Malum over me like a knife poised to fall, but I was the one that chose to stay within the safety of the arms of the devil I knew versus the devil I didn’t. It will always come down to the fact that I chose to say I do. Once the kiss is over, Luke makes a grand show of signing his name in a flourish to the document before handing the pen to me.
Once I write my name, I stare at them both together, my stomach cramping. They look so good. So perfect. If only it had been under better terms. I might have even considered marrying him a few months from now. I just needed some time to know what I was getting into.
Shelaine Lannister. Somehow, even the sound of it is better. I hate these contradictions swirling inside me. I wish everything would just shut up. But they aren’t. I have my mind and body at war with each other, and there isn't anything that can be done.
It’s over.
I’m married.
Bound to this man until he lets me go. Because I’m not stupid enough to think that I can get out of this now. With the lawyers on retainer at Loftry, I wouldn’t even be able to plead my case.
Luke steps away from me for a moment and whispers to the priest. What fresh hell is he planning now? He’s already married me. When he turns back with a large grin, it feels like the world just falls away from under my feet.
With a powerful sweep of his arms, he pushes all religious paraphernalia off of the altar and climbs on. His smile is wicked as he holds out his hand. There’s no way he can possibly have sex with me on that thing. It’s far too much, far too sacrilegious. Helpless, I look over at the priest, who just smiles and shrugs.
“Why are you looking at him? Don’t look at him. Look at me. Your husband, your Dominant. I’m the one you listen to. Now, get your ass over here so we can consummate our marriage.”
His tone vibrates through the air with his barely concealed irritation. He’s still unhappy with me, but why do I actually want to see what it’s like to be fucked by him in his anger?
Making my way over, I step around the littered bits of religion on the floor and stand at the base of the altar. I stretch out my hand and climb up, the humiliation of defiling such a sacred space sending arousal burning through my body. I need Luke. I need him to take away this yearning deep inside. I can be furious at him later, but right now, I need him to fill me up, to turn my brain off so I can just feel.
Once I’m on the altar, he wastes no time in parting my robe and exposing me to his hungry gaze. A shuddering gasp tears through me as he brings his fingers up to my pussy and plunges them inside.
I’m still a little sore from earlier, but all it does is make me crave his violence even more. His mouth collides with mine, and all thought flies out of my head. I moan against him, fucking myself on his fingers. For the moment, I don't care about anything except his hot body against mine, his tongue plunging into my mouth in a sad mimicry of the sexual act I’d rather him perform on me.
Dragging us down the polished surface, he works at the front of his pants, desperation laced in his jerky movements. The moment his erection is free, he pushes me down onto my back and spreads my legs, lining his cock up with my entrance.
“You are mine, Shelaine Lannister,” he moans, surging deep inside. “I own every fucking inch of your body. If you ever fucking think of running from me, know that I will hunt you down and drag you back underneath me where you belong. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Master,” I cry out as he pounds into me, reigniting the feelings from earlier.
Now that I know what to expect, I can lie back and enjoy his ferocious mastery over me. Even though we’ve just had sex, his cock still stretches me out, drawing a slight wince to my face. If he sees it, he doesn’t care.
Unlike the other times, he doesn’t touch me, doesn’t build me up to that crescendo with him. He simply uses my body, thrusting into me as if I’m simply a doll. It feels cold and empty, hollow inside. I know he’s upset, but I still wanted to go on this journey with him.
It doesn’t take him long. With his fingers wrapped around my hips, he holds me in place as he surges forwards and drags back out. The pleasure is immense, but I can’t quite get to that place where I can come. It hovers just out of reach. I move my hand to slide it in between us, but his snarl makes me reconsider.
“Your orgasms are mine too. Or did you already forget that I just said I owned you? Don’t worry, little rabbit. I’ll make sure you won’t forget.”
His face scrunches up as his grip tightens even further, until I’m sure they’ll be bruises. Deep inside, I can feel his cock as it jerks and pulses. I want to join him. I want to ride that wave with him, to have my orgasm wash away all the hurt between us.