Even if she hadn’t seen him brutally murder the people who’d tried to save her from him, Kain’s claim to her had erased other demons’ ability to influence her, and she felt nothing but disgust as Marathin’s hot breath puffed against the side of her neck.

“Let go of me!” she screamed as he lifted her up, only to press her against the side of the car a moment later. “I’m his, and nothing you do will change that!”

Marathin’s eyes glowed dangerously as he bent over her, blocking her view of the night sky.

“We’ll just have to see about that. Once I remind you of how perfectly we fit together you will change your tune, Breeder. But at least he should have given you enough cock that I don’t have to twist your ring—you will be fully conscious through every moment while I reclaim your sweet little cunt. You’ll have eternity to regret running from me—and I suspect you’ll start when you’re howling for mercy on my ridges!”

Oh, god. No.

Cold realization set in just as he started ripping at her clothes. He’d raped her before, but this time, the dark magic welded around her clit wouldn’t ease the violation.

There’d been pleasure the first time he’d forced her. Her body, while at first struggling with his demonic anatomy, had been open and eager from his manipulations. Now every muscle in her body tensed with repulsion at his closeness, nausea churning in her gut as she struggled against him.

The pain of being forced to take his ridged mass while her body was unwilling terrified her, but what made her heart clench was the realization that someone other than her mate would demand access to the very core of her being, would take what only belonged to Kain.

She couldn’t live through that.

“No! Let me go! Stop!” Selma clawed at his face and kicked frantically at anything she could make contact with, but Marathin was much too strong.

Snarling, he ripped open her shirt to let her breasts spill into the cold air, then yanked her pants down so hard the zipper broke.

“Yield!” he growled. “Yield, or I’ll make it hurt even worse!”

He’d once claimed he’d never harm her, promises made by a demon cajoling his victim. Kain had made her promises too, promises he’d given his freedom to keep. The juxtaposition thundered in her head as she struggled against him, the twisted mockery that was Marathin’s claims of love finally making it crystal clear what’d been between her and her mate who’d sacrificed everything for her.

Love.

Bealith was right. But she’d never get to tell him.