CHAPTER 59
+25 BONUS
LIANA’S POV
My head cleared the second I felt it, that sharp, suffocating shift in the air that gripped my throat like an invisible collar, that unmistakable, raw, electric pull of power and rage and danger that I had only ever known from one person, and my stomach
bottomed out even before I turned and saw him.
Killian.
He was already there, already on top of Darion, fists flying with a savage rhythm, a storm of violence that didn’t stop, didn’t stutter, didn’t allow breath or mercy or reason, his body moving like an unhinged predator whose only purpose in that moment was destruction, whose only language was blood and bone, whose eyes, those terrifying pitch-black eyes, were so wild, so cold, so hollowed out by fury that it was like staring at a man possessed, like something ancient and ruthless had
crawled into his skin and decided to wear it.
“Killian!” I screamed, my voice cracking as I stumbled forward, desperate, terrified, trying to reach him, but he didn’t hear me, couldn’t, because he was gone, too far gone, lost in whatever darkness ruled him, fists crashing into Darion’s face again and again, blood spraying in every direction with each brutal impact, and Darion wasn’t even trying to fight anymore, he was limp, defenseless, broken.
“Please! You’ll kill him! Stop! Stop it!” I cried, grabbing his arm, but it was like grabbing iron, like trying to drag a wrecking ball with bare hands, because Killian didn’t move, didn’t flinch, didn’t care that I was there, until something cracked in him, something snapped, and he dropped Darion like garbage and turned to me, chest heaving, jaw clenched, his hands soaked in blood, his eyes black pits of fire.
He didn’t say a word.
He just grabbed me.
He lifted me like I was nothing, threw me over his shoulder, stormed out of that club with the kind of power that made everyone else freeze and step back, because no one in their right mind would get between Killian Wolfe and what he had
decided was his.
I screamed, hit him, kicked, fought to be put down, shouting, “Let me go! You can’t do this! You’re insane!”
He didn’t even blink.
He threw open the car door, shoved me inside like a sack of flesh, slammed it so hard the whole car rattled, and the next second he was behind the wheel, jaw clenched, breathing like a wild animal as he gunned the engine and took off, tires screeching, weaving through traffic at speeds that should’ve killed us both.
“You’re going to get us killed!” I cried, heart slamming, body shaking.
He didn’t answer.
He drove like the devil himself was clawing at his heels, or maybe like he was the devil, and I was just the girl stupid enough
to love him.
When the car finally slammed to a halt outside the hotel, he was out before I could move, yanking my door open, dragging me out by the wrist like a rag doll, and I twisted, slapped, begged, but he didn’t stop.
“Killian, stop! Please, this is crazy! Let me go!”
He said nothing.
The doors flew open under his boot. The hallway blurred as he dragged me straight to his hotel room and kicked the door so hard it crashed against the wall, splintering.
1/3
+25 BONUS
Then he threw me on the bed.
Hard.
My back hit the mattress with a bounce and a gasp, and I scrambled to sit up, my hands trembling, voice breaking as I shouted, “Don’t touch me! Don’t you fucking dare! Go back to your wife! Go back to Cynthia! You lied to me, you said she
meant nothing, but she humiliated me! You chose her!”
He didn’t answer.
He was already tearing his clothes off, jacket flying, shirt ripped open so violently the buttons went flying like shrapnel, belt yanked out with one savage pull, pants shoved down without care.
“Killian, I swear to God, this isn’t you! You’re not this man! They said you’d ruin me, and you did! You’ll leave me for her
again!”
Still, he said nothing.
But his eyes, those goddamn eyes, they burned, not with rage now, but something darker, something posse primal, and
it hit me like a wave, this unrelenting energy that poured off him like heat, like he was fire and obsession and madness.
wrapped in skin, and he was looking at me like I wasn’t a person, like I wasn’t a woman, but a thing, his thing.
He climbed onto the bed, grabbed my ankles, yanked me down, and I screamed.
I kicked, tried to crawl back, but he was too strong, too fast, too goddamn furious, and in seconds, my jeans were gone, my
blouse shredded, my panties ripped straight down the middle with one brutal tear.
“You bastard! You’re lying to me again!”
His hand clamped around my throat, not choking, just holding me there, holding me still, and he finally spoke, “YOU’RE
MINE!!!”
“Killian, don’t-”
*Mine.”
“Please, stop, go back to her!”
“This what you want, huh? This what you were begging for when you let him touch you?”
“I didn’t-”
“You danced with him. Let him whisper shit in your ear. You wanted him to kiss you. Admit it.”
“I thought it was you,” I whispered brokenly. “I thought it was you…”
He paused for half a second.
And then he slammed into me.
One brutal, merciless thrust of his cock that knocked the air from my lungs and the thoughts from my head, stretching me so wide I cried out from the sheer force of it, my back arching, my mouth opening in a soundless scream, and then again, deeper, rougher, his grip bruising on my hips as he fucked me like he didn’t care if I broke, like my body belonged to him and he was going to remind every inch of it exactly who owned me.
I screamed, cried out, body arching with the pain and the shame and the need of it, but he didn’t stop. He drove into me again and again, harder with every thrust, deeper, his cock slamming into my core, tearing sobs and gasps from my throat, each movement meant to punish, to mark, to fuck the truth into me whether I wanted it or not.
“You’re Only Mine Liana,” he growled again, over and over, each time timed with a savage thrust that made my spine curve, my legs shake, my clit throb as I clenched around him like I was desperate to hold him in, even while I sobbed and screamed
and tried to tell him no
59
+25 BONUS
“You’ll leave me again! I know you will! You always do! You said she meant nothing but she’s still here, still in your life, still ruining mine! You lied!”
But the more I screamed, the harder he fucked me.
“Only Mine.”
“Stop it! You’re hurting me!”
“Mine! Mine!”
He flipped me onto my stomach, yanked my hips up, and slammed into me from behind so hard I saw stars, my scream muffled by the pillow, my fingers clawing at the sheets as he pounded into me, so deep, so rough, so completely unrelenting that my clit was aching, my thighs trembling, my pussy soaking wet around him.
He leaned over, his chest hot and heavy against my back, his hand wrapping in my hair and yanking my head back until his mouth was against my ear.
“You belong to me. Just me. Me!”
“She’ll take you again. You always go back to her!” I screamed but he wasn’t listening.
“No one takes what’s mine.”
“They said you’d leave me-”
“I’d kill them first.”
I cried, whimpered, begged for him to stop, and he didn’t, not once.
He pulled me up, bent me over the edge of the bed, slammed in so deep I thought I’d break.
And still, every thrust came with that single, snarled word:
“Mine”
My body was burning, wrecked, ruined. My mind was fogged with pain and pleasure and need.
I came again. I couldn’t help it. I shattered around his cock, screaming, and he fucked me through it, used my orgasm like it was permission to go even harder.
He didn’t stop until I was limp, shaking, dripping down my thighs, soaking the sheets, begging for mercy with my body more than my voice.
Even then, he whispered it against my skin, his voice dark and low and terrifying, “MINE!!!”
And I knew in that moment, no matter what I said, no matter how much I cried, no matter how deep the betrayal or how
broken I was, Killian Wolfe wasn’t going to let me go.
Not now. And definitely not ever.
60
C
