He could have put a lot more power into that slap earlier; a red handprint on my cheek would have made a better selfie. I wasn’t so convinced he wanted to hurt me. Maybe I could make him see reason. Maybe I could get out of this with my soul intact.
Though, sadly, all of my confidence fell to the floor when he spoke.
“Your clothes,” he said, eyes still on his phone. “Remove them.”
I stared at him, my breath going cold.
He’d already seen all I had to offer—had recorded it to watch whenever he wanted—but that wasn’t the point. Every nerve in my body fought against submitting to his will. The pacifist inside of me wanted to obey. My brain ordered me to strip, now, but my pride and somehow my heart pulled me in the other direction.
Swallowing hard, I took a step back. The movement brought his dark gaze to mine.
I wouldn’t hand this devil my soul.
If he wanted it, he’d have to rip it from my chest.
“No.”
His eyes hardened, holding mine as he set the phone on the dresser beside him and gave me all of his terrifying attention. My resolve wavered like a plucked string. I backed up until my legs hit the bed.
“Kotyonok,” he warned, taking a step toward me, “‘no’ is no longer in your vocabulary. When I tell you to do something, you’ll do it with a smile. Don’t, and things will become very unpleasant for you. Take. Them. Off.”
I needed to know what he had planned for me. My imagination was a scary place, and it was thinking up a myriad of disturbing ways he might exact his revenge. The unknown twisted my lungs in a tight grasp. I wanted him to do his worst now, or the anxiety would eat at me until I was physically sick.
Heart racing against my ribcage, I held his gaze.
“No.”
He watched me for a second, and then he was on me so fast a scream rose up my throat.
Ronan threw me onto my back on the bed, dropping his body on top of mine. I twisted against him, managing to knee him in the groin. A human man would fall to the floor and grab his junk, but this monster merely paused for a second, closed his eyes, then let an animalistic sound escape between clenched teeth.
I took advantage of his distraction and turned onto my stomach to crawl away from him and up the bed, but he grabbed my ankle, dragging me down and underneath him, then rolled me onto my back.
“You’ve managed to piss me off,” he growled. “Not a good move.”
When he straddled my hips, I tried to buck him off, but I couldn’t find even an inch of leeway. He ripped my blouse open. Buttons scattered across the bed.
He was so heavy, so unmovable. If there was a God, he’d done a huge disservice to the world by putting this man’s soul in this body.
I fought Ronan with everything in me, my blunt nails catching his neck. He growled and slammed my wrists above my head, holding them with one hand while he jerked my skirt down my legs. I sank my teeth into his forearm.
“Careful,” he threatened, “you’re turning me on.”
The evidence of that was suddenly glaring and hard against my stomach. The idea of what he might do to me once he won this fight—and he would win—took ahold of my lungs. A cold rush of fear doused the flame in my chest with a weak hiss.
I went still, to his amusement.
My body trembled as he pulled the rest of my clothes off. He worked me like a doll, turning me to unclip my bra and remove my arms from my blouse. He slid my thong down my thighs, and out of instinct—or maybe just to feel like I held a semblance of control—I lifted my legs so he could pull it off.
I lay naked except for the star pendant between my breasts.
Straddling my hips, his hands holding my wrists above my head, Ronan took in my body beneath him. He wasn’t even breathing hard, yet I gave it my all. Resentment expanded in my chest. I needed to see a human response from him. I needed to know I had a chance at surviving him.
He leaned in and rested his body on mine. He felt hot to the touch, and I knew it was because he burned with the flames of hell. Pressing his face into my neck, he