BONDED TO THE DEVIL’s HEIR

His hands pins her wrists above her head. a bed against her back. His weight crushing her into the cold. She is naked beneath him, trembling, the bruises from last night still blooming on her thighs. "Say it," he growls, his voice low, frayed at the edges. She shakes her head. Tears spill down her cheeks. He slaps her. Once, Hard, Her head snaps to the side. Say it. I'm yours, she whispers. He rewards her with a kiss, rough, claiming, his tongue forcing her mouth open. Then he pushes his cock inside her without warning. She cries out. He groans against her throat. Again. “I'm yours”. Louder. She screams it. He fucks her until she can't remember her own name. And when it's over, when she lies broken beneath him, he presses his forehead to hers and breathes . She hates him. She knows she hates him. He saw her. He wanted her. He took her. Dain is the heir to the throne. Tall, black hair falling across a scarred brow, eyes like dying embers. Raised by his father to conquer, to take, to destroy anything that threatens his claim. Emotion was beaten out of him centuries ago. The only language he knows is power. Then he saw Jasmine. Three years ago, through a rift in the mortal world, he watched a girl in a garden. about Eighteen. Honey hair. Hazel eyes. Innocent in a way that made his hands curl into fists. He didn't know her name. He didn't care. In that moment, she became his. He watched her for three years. Her laugh. Her habits. The way she bit her lip when she read. He told himself it was curiosity. Then hunger. Then madness. Every woman he took to his bed wore her face. None of them screamed like he needed them to. Now her grandmother is dead. The only thing that shielded her is gone. And Dain is done waiting. He comes for her himself. His hands around her throat. His fist in her hair. She fights, he beats her. She screams, he drags her through a rift into his realm. A fortress of shadow where no one will hear her. That first night, he takes her. Not gently. Not with seduction. He strips her, forces her, uses her until she bleeds. He enjoys her tears. He drinks her pain like wine. When she tries to crawl away, he pulls her back by her hair and laughs. You were made for me, he tells her. And I will remind you every day until you believe it. He learns her. Every sound, every flinch, every secret fear. He collects them like trophies.