CHAPTER 7: THE FIRST KILL**
I wake up to *pain*.
Not the *good* kind.
The *bad* kind.
The *f*****g* kind.
My body is *sore*—every *inch* of me *aching* from last night. My lips are *swollen* from their *kisses*. My throat is *bruised* from their *grips*. My *p***y* is *throbbing* from their *claims*.
And my *palm* is *pulsing* from the *blood oath*.
*Fuck.*
I *groan*, rolling over, my voice a snarl. *"f**k off, world."*
But the world *doesn’t* listen.
Because the *door* *bursts* open.
Knox.
His dark eyes are *black* with hunger, his voice a growl. *"Wake up, omega. We’ve got *work* to do."*
I glare at him, my voice a snarl. *"I said *f**k off*."*
His smirk is *dark*, his voice a dark promise. *"Oh, little omega…"* His hand *snaps* out, his fingers wrapping around my throat, h
