Claimed By The Cruel Alpha King

CHAPTER 6

Elara

My back slammed into the wall and I felt the impact knock the breath out of my lungs as his hands wrapped tightly around my throat. I held back a gasp. His grip was not enough to choke. Not yet, though, because he would surely punish me. It just felt enough to remind me who I belonged to and that I wasn’t free.

Just like I said, his grip around my neck started to tighten. I felt my vision turn white around the edges. The pressure didn’t ease. Not one bit.

"You're so f*****g dead," he growled.

My feet pounded repeatedly on the ground, as I tapped on his arm, struggling to breathe. He didn’t even let go for even a second.

I used to wish I had died with the numerous times I spent wishing I would sleep and never wake up again. But now it felt like death was knocking on my door, and I felt too powerless to stop it.

Maybe I wanted death, but not like this. Not in his arms. I felt a sting in my eyes and I sniffled.

I lifted my gaze to meet his, but his eyes were vacant. I wasn’t a person to him. Just an object he could break whenever he wanted. His eyes were molten. Rage, hunger and control swirled around those orbs. They all mixed into that dead stare as if he didn’t see me anymore. He only saw an object he wanted to destroy and keep.

“You think you can talk to me like that?” he growled, voice low and trembling with no effort of holding back, “You think you’ve earned the right to tell me what to do?”

Then he scoffed like it was laughable.

"You're in my f*****g room, little mouse. In my Pack, in my territory, and you tell me to get out?" His voice was a calm, dangerous whisper.

I dug my nails into his wrist, not to fight him off, but to make him feel something. Anything like the pain he was inflicting on me without any care in the world.

“You don’t own me,” I whispered, still trying to get an ounce of assertion even though I knew it was a lie. Even though the ring of his fingers around my throat said otherwise.

His smile was sharp and mean. “I don’t?”

In one swift motion, he shoved me down against the mattress. I barely had time to twist, to shield myself, but he didn’t care. He climbed on top of me, knee pinning my thigh, body caging mine like I was his prey.

I knew what was coming. The violence in his touch as he grabbed the gown I was putting on and ripped it off without caution.

“How long you've been here should be enough for you to learn how to keep mute and he obedient but you always try to prove stubborn,” A maniacal laugh escaped his lips.

"I'm going to teach you a lesson, little mouse," he growled, the flash of amusement disappearing from his eyes.

"You see, after your first rebellion, I thought of ways to get more...creative," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure.

He used one hand to grab my hair and I winced in pain. He pulled me along with him on the bed by the hair, using his other hand to reach for the knife in his bedside drawer.

My eyes widened as he didn’t hesitate. He started to drag the sharp edge of the knife on my arm, but not with enough pressure to break my skin, as if he was just testing the waters. As if he was just warning me.

"No! No, please!" I shook my head, trying to break free from his grasp, but he didn't let go.

The deliberate cruelty in the way he dragged the knife, exerting enough pressure on it, as he grazed the tips over the bruises he already created on me was a reminder of his power over me. It wasn’t about lust. It wasn’t even about need.

“You want to keep screaming?” He gnashed his teeth against my earlobe. “Go ahead…Scream. You think it’ll stop me?”

My body jerked violently as I tried to fight back when he suddenly plunged the knife deep into my thighs with tears rolling down my cheeks.

"You see? There is nowhere you will run to that I wouldn't find you," he laughed, leaning closer to lick off the blood trickling down the cut he made.

He groaned softly, shutting his eyes for a moment as if he was relishing the taste of my blood.

I sobbed helplessly. He was more than a monster; He was the devil himself. He was hell and he was dragging me down along with him.

Something inside him seemed to snap as he growled, his eyes roaming across my naked body as he pulled away.

"Don't move." He commanded, leaving me spread and bleeding on the bed, unclad and vulnerable. He went over to the huge walk in closet and rummaged through it before returning with thick ropes and a tiny box. I whimpered, feeling cold air sting my body and the cuts, but he didn’t care.

He walked over and without a word, started untangling the rope, then grabbing one of my wrists, tying it on the headboard. He did the same to my other wrist, then my both legs.

He wanted me to break. I wasn't going to let him see me break. I was going to hold back. I wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of seeing me break.

"It's a pity I have to cover your pretty little lips," he pressed on my lips with his thumb and then flicked it with his thumb. He grabbed the tiny black box and pulled out a leather gag from it. He didn't give me time to process anything as he shoved it in my mouth, buckling it at my neck.

No matter how much I felt the sob bubbling up in my throat, I tried to hold it back. I fixed my eyes on the ceiling, trying to assure myself that this nightmare would be over soon. I started counting to hundred in my head, anything to stop myself from feeling the heat of his breath on my neck. Anything to keep me from hearing the sound he made when he was hurting me and enjoying it. Anything subdue the sound of his broken buckle as he peeled off his clothes and hovered above me.

He didn’t kiss me. That was too soft, too close and too intimate. He didn’t speak again, not for a while. He just moved over me, shoving his c**k into my sore p***y without any care in the word. I cried out at the action, but the gag was enough to drown out my noise. He f****d me rough, cold, calculated. Every breath I took felt stolen. He grabbed my hair and stared into my eyes as he took me, over and over again, with no emotion in his eyes.

When it was over, I felt nothing but worthlessness.

He got off me and reached for his clothes, putting them on like he had just ticked off another task on his bucket list and gazed down at me, tilting his head.

“You’re quieter when you’re useful. You stay tied, and the gag stays on till you're ready to apologise for your mistake.”

I didn’t respond. Not that I could, anyway. I turned my head to the side.

He turned towards the door, pausing long enough to grab the key from the inside latch. I heard it click as he twisted it from the outside. The lock slid into place.

I was trapped and tied. Again, I was alone.

I laid there for a long time. I didn’t know how long. My limbs ached badly and the pain from the cut was unbearable but none of it felt worse, compared to the emptiness growing inside of me.

That part of me, the girl who used to fight, hope and feel, was slipping farther away. I knew that was what he wanted and he was deriving satisfaction from seeing me suffer. I closed my eyes, but I didn't sleep till it was dark outside. The moonlight bled through the curtains, pale and cold.

I remained tied to the bed like a lifeless doll, feeling the essence of my existence fading away till I heard the door click open. I didn't even turn to see who it was, till I heard that familiar female voice, low, satisfied and dripping with hate and disgust.

“I knew you’ll definitely be where you belong; As a w***e in his bed.”