5 The Valentine Brothers IV

"Fuck you!" I gasped out, spitting a glob of saliva at his face. Blaise couldn't dodge in time, and I felt a brief moment of satisfaction when I saw my spit decorating the side of his face. 

Blaise froze, and then slowly wiped his cheek clean with his fingers, before proceeding to smear my own spit back on my face. I froze, suddenly realizing that I might have bitten more than I could chew.

Blaise's gentle demeanor melted away like the illusion I knew it was, and he tugged me up so that I was forced to kneel on the bed, knees shoulder-length apart, my arms stretched uncomfortably behind my back. 

My back muscles and shoulders cried out in protest. To my dismay, I also noticed that this position displayed everything that was meant to be hidden. With the way he made me kneel, I had to lean forward a little to maintain my balance. It offered him a clear view of my cleavage. He definitely wasn't trying to hide the fact that he was ogling either.

A smirk curved his lips, more sinister than playful, and his eyes lingered on the curves of my body longer than what was comfortable. I squirmed where I kneeled, trying to find a way to shield myself but all was for naught. He simply smiled wider at my pathetic attempts.

"I'll remember this. You'll pay for that in the future," Blaise said, digging his fingers into my face, causing me to wince in pain. "Naughty girls will get punished. You'll keep this position until I see fit to release you." 

His eyes flashed with the color of molten silver, gleaming with sin.

To my horror, I found myself obeying his words. Or more accurately, I couldn't disobey his commands, no matter how much I wanted to. My limbs simply would not move. I was stuck in this position, and Blaise turned around and left me to my own devices with a final slam of the door. 

I could hear the loud click of the lock before his footsteps faded away.

I was now physically alone but trapped. Blaise clearly had magic of some kind. Mate bonds couldn't do such a thing and even if it could, we weren't mated and marked. There was no connection between us that could allow him such control over me.

"Fucker," I hissed under my breath, lamenting my circumstances.

Lydia was dead and there was no grave. 

I had no idea what the ceremony was about. Blaise's description of the ceremony could have sounded reassuring, but it caused warning bells to ring in my head. 

Pretty face?

No need to speak?

Hard work?

What were they going to do to me?

My mind immediately whirled, conjuring up scenarios, each one nastier than the last.

I was going to be beaten to a pulp. 

I was going to be grilled alive via a bonfire.

I was going to be a ritual sacrifice for the Moon Goddess. 

Ironically, that was the least disturbing option. I wanted to live but if staying alive meant getting tortured by the Valentine brothers, forgive me Goddess but I would rather die.

"You don't have to look so defeated."

My head immediately moved to look up instead of focusing on the mattress, facing the same set of features as the one on the man I had been speaking to just moments prior. It was getting confusing seeing them back to back but the scar on Damon's face made him easy to recognize.

That, and for some reason, the pull of his scent was much stronger. One whiff and I could feel my stomach coil and my knees growing weak. Even with the chains burning my hands and holding me back, I could barely hold myself up any longer, if it weren't for the weird spell Blaise had put on me.

"Blaise and his sick games," Damon tutted. 

With that said, it was as though the spell on me had been broken. I collapsed immediately, hissing in pain as the chains yanked at my wrists painfully. The constriction and tugging had left deep, ugly red blisters.

"You say that as if you are on a moral high ground," I retorted, breathing heavily in an attempt to regulate my pain.

A hand came to my throat immediately, long fingers wrapped around my neck as I was pushed down. In one swift movement, my back was flat against the mattress and my hands were clawing at the hand that had clamped down. More than the pain in my wrists was the burn in my throat.

I couldn't breathe.

"Blaise must've told you about the ceremony," Damon commented. My eyes widened slightly at the mention of the elusive 'ceremony' once more, though nothing more than a wheeze left my lips. "There is something else you should know."

His grip on my neck loosened just the slightest. I hungrily gasped, gulping in as much air as I could. However, I had not forgotten about the man that hovered over me.

His knee separated my thighs, one hand on the bed to support himself and another around my neck like a collar of obedience. What scared me more than the hand that controlled my life and death was his eyes― they were glowing and bright, but filled with more bloodlust than I had ever seen on anyone else even with the nights spent at the mercy of others.

"You might be our mate but there are still some rules you need to follow," Damon said. 

He leaned forward, his lips a hair's breadth away from my neck. I could feel his warm breath fan over my skin. My body betrayed me, letting loose a whimper as my skin crawled with the pleasure of having him so close. It felt like there were a thousand butterflies swirling in the pit of my belly, their wings brushing against my walls in fluttering delight.

He must've noticed it too― or perhaps, that was what Damon had been aiming for the entire time.

"Perhaps you need to be taught a lesson."