Chapter 3 The First Claim

The cold glass pressed against Selene's bare breasts, her hard nipples aching from the icy contrast. Chicago's glittering skyline sprawled beneath them like a kingdom laid out for conquest. Rain streaked down the outside of the window in frantic rivulets, mirroring the chaos raging inside her body.

Enzo fisted her silver-streaked hair brutally, yanking her head back so his hot breath scorched her ear.

"Look at my city while I break you open," he growled, voice thick with lust.

With one violent rip, he destroyed what remained of her clothes. The shredded tank top and leggings fell uselessly to the marble floor. Selene stood completely naked, her curvy body fully exposed, with full, heavy breasts, narrow waist, wide hips, and the shameful trail of arousal already running down her inner thighs.

Enzo's hands claimed her like property. He squeezed her tits hard, kneading the soft flesh roughly before pinching and twisting her sensitive nipples until she cried out. One rough palm slid down her stomach and cupped her sex possessively.

"Jesus Christ," he groaned, sliding two thick fingers deep inside her with a loud, wet sound. "You're soaked. Your cunt is weeping for me, Selene. Begging to be torn apart."

Selene moaned loudly, her hips rocking shamelessly against his invading fingers as he pumped them fast and deep, curling them perfectly against her G-spot. The bond amplified every sensation tenfold. She could feel his throbbing lust pounding through her own veins like liquid fire.

"I hate you," she gasped between broken moans, even as her body clenched greedily around his fingers.

Enzo laughed, dark and cruel. He pulled his fingers out and shoved them into her mouth. "Suck. Taste how badly your enemy owns you."

She sucked them clean, glaring up at him with silver eyes full of defiance and raw, shameful need.

Enzo spun her around, slamming her face-first against the glass. Her cheek pressed to the cold surface, breath fogging the window. He kicked her legs apart, rough hands spreading her open to the empty sky.

"Anyone with binoculars could see you," he murmured, dragging his clothed erection against her bare, exposed flesh. "The Silverfang bitch on display. My bitch now."

Selene snarled, tried to push back, but he pinned her wrists above her head with one hand. The other traced her spine, slow and possessive, before settling at the base of her skull.

"Don't move."

He freed himself. The heat of his cock against her thigh made her whimper despite herself. Not slick or wet-thick and heavy, a weapon in its own right. He didn't ask. Didn't warn. He drove into her in one brutal thrust that tore a scream from her throat.

The stretch burned. He was too big, too much, splitting her open with no mercy. Selene's nails scraped uselessly against glass as he began to piston into her, each stroke punishing, deliberate, designed to mark her inside where no one else would ever find the evidence.

"You're tight," he grunted, teeth finding her shoulder. "Fighting me even now. Good. I want to feel you struggle."

The bond twisted pleasure through the pain. Every vicious thrust sent sparks up her spine, her traitorous body learning his rhythm, meeting it despite her will. She hated him. Hated this. Hated the broken sounds escaping her throat that weren't quite protest.

Enzo shifted angle, hitting something deep that made her vision white out. His hand wrapped around her throat-not squeezing, just holding, claiming the pulse point where her life beat for him alone.

"Say it," he demanded, voice ragged. "Say what you are."

"Your-" She choked on the word, on another brutal thrust. "Your enemy."

He laughed, breathless, and bit down on her neck hard enough to bruise. "My flesh. My fucking mate. And you're going to take everything I give you."

His pace turned savage. The slap of skin against skin echoed through the penthouse, obscene and relentless. Selene felt herself unraveling, the coil tightening low in her belly despite her resistance, because of it.

He slowed without warning, dragging himself out until just the thick head stretched her entrance. Selene shuddered, empty and aching, hating herself for the whimper that escaped her lips.

"Please," she breathed, not knowing what she was asking for.

Enzo's laugh was soft, almost tender, and somehow worse than his cruelty. "There it is." He thrust back in, slow and deep, grinding against her deepest point. "The moment you forget you're supposed to hate me."

He kept that maddening pace-slow, thorough, devastating-until she was trembling beneath him, until her hips chased his movements, until she was moaning his name like a curse and a prayer. The bond hummed between them, pleasure and pain braided together so tightly she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

"Look down," he commanded.

She did. Forty stories below, cars moved like blood cells through veins, lives continuing while she was being destroyed and remade against this glass. The distance made her dizzy. The exposure made her sick. The heat of him inside her, relentless and claiming, made her sob.

"Do you know what I'd do," he whispered, "if you jumped? If you chose death over this?"

Selene couldn't answer. His hand slid from her throat to her breast, kneading roughly, pinching her nipple until she arched.

"I'd follow," he said. "Not from love, little wolf. Because you belong to me. Even your death would be mine to spend."

The words should have terrified her. They did. But the bond twisted even that fear into something sharp and bright, another thread pulling her toward him.

He increased his pace again, no longer teasing. His free hand found her clit, rubbing cruel, precise circles that made her legs buckle. He held her up, held her open, used her body as it had always been his to use.

"Come for me," he ordered. "Now. While I'm fucking you like you hate me. While you're wishing you could kill me. Come."

She did. Violently-teeth clenched, body seizing, a ragged cry torn from her chest like a wound opening. The orgasm ripped through her with brutal intensity, made worse by the bond, by feeling his pleasure spike in response, by knowing he felt her unraveling and loved it.

Enzo didn't stop. He rode her through it, using her spasming body to chase his own release, each thrust now designed for his own finish, his own claiming.

He buried himself to the root and locked there. The knot swelled, stretching her impossibly further, anchoring them together. Selene sobbed at the sensation, too full, too claimed, as he pulsed inside her, flooding her with heat in thick, endless spurts.

The bond flared white-hot between them. For one terrible moment, she felt everything-his triumph, his possessiveness, the dark satisfaction of marking what was his. And beneath it, something she hadn't expected: fear. His fear. That she would find a way to sever this. That she would rather die than accept it.

They stayed like that, joined and shaking, enemies bound by biology and something darker neither would name. His knot held them locked, his seed filling her, his breath hot against her neck.

"Mine," Enzo whispered against her sweat-dampened hair. "Every time you try to kill me, remember whose seed you're carrying. Remember that I took you apart while you begged for it. Remember that you screamed my name."

Selene closed her eyes. The city lights blurred. She said nothing, because he was right, and because she was already planning how to make him pay-not with death, but with something worse.

She would make him need her. Then she would destroy him.