The packhouse had shifted from a place of authority into a cruel, drawn-out torment chamber.
Strange enough, Zebub didn’t kill me with a single strike using the incomplete bond, that would’ve been too quick, too merciful I think, for a fifth wheel in the relationship. Instead, she chose a more insidious method. She kept Vance in her bed almost nonstop, knowing that the tether between us was still alive, a live wire that burned with every passing hour.
Because she refused to accept the triangle mating, torturing me with the pain of the betrayal of my mate was her best bet.
Most days, I was slumped against the cold stone of my office floor or curled in a corner of the library, gasping as phantom heat and disturbing sensations tore through my body. It was a violation on a unimaginable le
