Hell of a Night

Rhea POV

As the cacophonous sound grew into stinging murmurs, my mind screamed at me to take on my heels—to flee this nightmare I had placed myself. But my legs remained glued, frozen by a torment so sound that it felt as though the universe was against my will.

Was this my destiny? Was I fated to a life of agony?

Through the rivers of tears, I saw them— Damon and Ria, standing at their flanks, smirking down at me.

His humiliation burned more than any trauma. He was my fated mate, bound to me by the very thread of destiny. And yet, here he stood, his hands fluttered on the waist of another woman, as if I was a shadow.

"You are a failure, Rhea," Ria's voice cutting through the already tensed air, thick with mockery. She moved forward toward me with a grace that only intensified my despair. "Just go away. Oh! Sorry, I mean…"

Her cruel words were slivered by a commanding voice behind me.

"You are under arrest for the illegal use of black magic on the Alpha Prince."

The voice reverberated through the grand hall, throbbing in my skull as my entire world felt spinning.

Arrested? For black magic? On Damon?

My heart pounding against my rib cage, desperate to explode from this nightmare. I turned sharply, my breath escaping in short gasps.

"No—no, I am innocent of such act. I have nothing to do with that! Please, believe me!" I pleaded, but my voice fell on deaf ears.

The warriors did not hesitate.

Their hands gripped my thin arms, their strength overpowering, dragging me forward as the crowd erupted into angry murmurs.

"Kill her!" 

"Send her to the dungeon!" 

"Persecute her!" 

"A life of betrayal laced with an ancient prophecy which has begun its course."

The familiar eery voice echoed from the cacophonous words stole my attention, spearing deep into my chest. My body went rigid, and my gaze shot toward the crowd one more time, looking for the confirmation of the strange figure earlier on.

My eyes darting through the crowd, locking on the same strange figure on its dark cloak, her face concealed beneath the dark of her cloth.

Before I could flinch, Damon's voice echoed. "Send her to the dungeon. The deepest one."

His words sealed my fate. 

I was forcefully dragged away, torn from hope, the fate, from everything I had ever cherished.

*********

Darkness pressed in around me, pungent and suffocating. My body rippled in doses of pain from the rough stone floor beneath me, my limbs too weak from the crushing weight of betrayal.

Then, a shift in the air. 

Familiar. Overwhelming. 

Damon. 

The intoxicating scent filled the dungeon, a cruel recall of what had been stolen from me. My wolf whimpered, her pain a reflection of my own, but she was too shattered to fight.

Footsteps reverberated against the damp, earthed walls.

"You all can return to your quarters now," Damon's commanding voice, smooth and hollow.

The guards obeyed without flinching, their presence disappearing into the dark shadows of the trees.

And then we were alone.

My body shivered in fear as the heavy door groaned shut, sealing me in with the man who had once despised me.

A slow exhale. A shift of weight. And then—warm fingers ghosting over my cheek.

I flinched. 

"Still so warm," he whispered to my ears, almost in amusement. His fingers moving down, brushing a damp strand of hair from my face. "I wonder how far this beauty can take you."

My jaw clenched, refusing to lock my eyes to his. "What do you want from me, Damon? I thought you have done enough." My voice hoarse, raw from hours of silence and suppressed sobs ravaging deep inside of me.

A pause. Then a whisper, close enough that his breath fanned the hair on my neck.

"My wolf is uncomfortable,"he admitted. "The rejection keeps tearing me apart."

A cold, bitter grin bubbled in my throat, sharp and laced with pain. "And you think I'm not in agony?" 

The reply was an awkward silence.

His hand tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. The flickering torch light cast shadows across his face, but there was something else in his expression—something dark, consuming. A hunger that had nothing to do with love. 

"I need to ease the bond," he murmured. "And so do you." 

My stomach twisted. "I don't need anything from you." 

His gaze darkened. "Lying doesn't suit you, Rhea." 

Before I could protest, he leaned in, his lips brushing against the skin on my neck, now searing with phantom pain rather than pleasure. A cruel mockery of what could have been. 

I gasped, my body betraying me, reacting to the pull that still lingered despite his rejection. Despite the agony. 

"You feel it too," he whispered against my skin. 

I hated him. 

I hated that he could still make me tremble. 

His hand skimmed down my arm, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver up my spine. "Just comply with me," he said, his voice dangerously soft. 

My breath hitched. "I am not some—" 

His lips silenced my words. Hard. Demanding. Claiming.

I pushed against him, but my strength was nothing compared to his. He deepened the kiss, his grip tightening around my wrists, pinning them above my head. 

Panic flared in my chest. **No. No, this wasn't right.

Tears burned behind my eyes as I tried to turn away. "Stop!" I choked out. 

He did not listen. 

His hands roamed lower, his touch igniting the remnants of a bond that should have died the moment he cast me aside. **But fate was cruel.** 

"You are still mine," he growled, his voice thick with something possessive, something primal. 

I turned my face away, my throat tightening. "Then why did you reject me?" 

Silence. 

And then—his grip loosened, just for a second. 

It was enough. 

I shoved against his chest, my voice breaking. "You don't get to do this, Damon. You don't get to claim me now, not when you already threw me away!" 

"Be a good girl and act well with me. Stop acting as though you didn't enjoy the sex we both had last night." He said.

"Is it all about sex?" I asked in a quivering tone.

His face turning pale and unreadable, he tore my already ragged gown, his dick rushly thrusting into my pussy in a doggy style.

I didn't feel the pleasure as of last night because of the indifference from his manner and the environment we found ourselves. What filled my face was the cascading tears that suffused my face from the realization of my mate rejecting me and now raping me.

His jaw clenched, eyes flashing with something unreadable. Then, without a word, he pulled away, the cold rushing in to replace his warmth. 

Regret flickered in his gaze—but it was fleeting.

He straightened, adjusting his clothes with a sharp breath. "No one should know about this," he said, his voice hollow, detached. "The day I hear even a whisper of this, is the day you die. And I am damn serious." 

And then—he was gone. 

The door slammed shut, leaving me in suffocating silence, curled on the cold stone floor, shattered into irreparable pieces. 

But just as my breathing began to steady, just as I thought I could gather the fragments of myself once more— 

A new scent filled the dungeon. 

Pine and natural cologne.

I tensed, my body s

tiffening as a shadow loomed over me. 

A deep, steady voice broke the silence. 

"Please, don't scream." 

I forced my swollen eyes open, blinking through the blur of tears. A man stood at the doorway, his piercing dark blue eyes locked onto mine. His broad shoulders. His long, curly red hair. His presence—commanding, unfamiliar, yet… safe. 

I swallowed hard. "Who are you?"