Chained to the Enemy Alpha
Chapter 13: Pain is a Familiar Language

Chapter 13: Chapter 13: Pain is a Familiar Language

The ropes bit into Victoria’s wrists as Zayn pulled them tighter, binding her arms above her head and tying them to the carved post of his bed.

She smiled into the restraint, her body arched in invitation, the red silk robe puddled at her knees and she kicked them away.

“You always did like control,” she purred, her voice thick with anticipation. She wanted him badly.

But Zayn didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

He stepped behind her, shirtless, his broad chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. His eyes, usually unreadable, were sharp tonight, dark with something far more dangerous than lust. His belt was already in his hand, coiled like a serpent, ready to strike, ready to bite.

Without warning, he entered her.

A choked gasp escaped her lips as he filled her from behind with a single, powerful thrust. He didn’t pause. Didn’t give her time to adjust. He gripped her hips and began to move—hard, fast, merciless.

“Fuck, yes,” she gasped, pressing her cheek to the mattress. “Just like that...” .com

The belt cracked across her back.

She yelped, her body jerking forward from the force, then shivered as the heat spread across her skin. Another strike. Then another. It was like a drug to her, and she felt she never had enough of it. Of him.

Zayn slammed into her, again and again, the rhythm brutal. Every thrust came with a fresh crack of leather against her spine, her thighs, the soft curve of her ass. She cried out with each strike, but never asked him to stop. This was what she wanted—what she knew he needed.

Her body was wet, eager, clenching around him as he fucked her deeper, harder. His breathing was harsh, lips pulled back slightly in a snarl of tension and barely restrained fury.

She moaned his name, breathless and high-pitched. “Zayn—yes—more—hurt me—”

He obliged. Not because she wanted it, no. He did because he needed it. He needed to let all his anger and frustration blow up, and the last time he tried to do this with Lily, he had to... No! He pushed those thoughts away and growled, drilling inside Victoria.

Slowly, the scars started to heal on her skin, but they did it too slow. She knew she would need extra care after this to heal fully. Which made her think how he was never this rough with her before.

Granted, he always wanted to be dominant, to overpower her, to be the one on top. But tonight, of all nights, he was zealous. He was insatiable, and her body was taking every hit of it.

The belt came down across her shoulder blades, the sound sharp in the still room. Her back arched. He drove into her again, his grip bruising her hips.

But Zayn wasn’t looking at her.

In his mind, flashes of dark hair, bruised skin, and violet-scented silence swam through the red fog. Lily. Her image came uninvited, unrelenting, her eyes wide with pain, her lips mouthing words she could never speak. The way she hadn’t screamed. Hadn’t begged.

The way she looked at him like he was more than a monster.

Zayn grunted and thrust harder, deeper. Victoria whimpered beneath him, her face slack with pleasure. “Use me,” she gasped. “Use me, Alpha!”

He reached forward, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and pulled her head back as he fucked her relentlessly. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, loud and rhythmic, matched only by her cries and the rasp of his breath.

Every inch of his body screamed with tension. The pleasure coiled tightly inside him, but it wasn’t clean. It was jagged, like broken glass. The closer he got to the edge, the more Lily filled his thoughts.

Her trembling body. Her soft, silent strength. Her goddamn defiance.

Zayn growled through gritted teeth and buried himself deep, forcing a cry from Victoria as her legs shook.

“You like that, don’t you?” she moaned. “You like hurting me. You need it.”

He said nothing. He both hated her and needed her. He needed his release.

His fingers dug into her hip as he pumped into her fast and rough, the belt discarded at the edge of the bed now, his hands replaced it with bruising strength. She sobbed with each thrust, not from pain but from the way her orgasm crawled up her spine.

This was a new, more violent side of him she had never experienced before, and she started to really like what he was giving her. The building ecstasy was overwhelmingly intense.

Her muscles tightened around him. She came with a strangled scream, clenching hard, her body twitching beneath him. “Zayn—oh, fuck—I’m—” She didn’t finish. She just broke apart, her voice hoarse from crying out.

Zayn didn’t slow. He couldn’t. He kept moving, past the point of pleasure. His own release loomed like a razor’s edge, so close it hurt. And that was the problem.

It always hurt.

The moment the climax overtook him, and it wasn’t bliss. It was punishment.

Pleasure seared through him, sharp and white-hot, but twisted with pain. A deep, biting ache radiated from his spine to his gut, every muscle in his body locking up as he spilled inside her. He groaned, low and guttural, pressing his forehead to the back of her sweaty neck.

The agony of release rolled through him in waves. It wasn’t the blissful surrender he expected, the soft landing after a storm. Instead, it was a jarring crash, a shattering of something inside him.

He growled, the sound ripped from him against his will. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated anguish masked by something that should have been pleasure. His breath hitched in his throat, each inhale a struggle. His vision swam with dark spots, and the world around him seemed to blur and distort.

The weight of his actions, the memory of another’s eyes, pressed down on him, making the release feel less like an end and more like a beginning of a different kind of torment.

Victoria lay trembling, completely spent beneath him, her wrists still bound, her back glowing red with welts, healing maddeningly slow.

He pulled out, panting, and reached for the small wooden box by the nightstand. Inside were several vials—restoration tonics. He uncorked one and pressed it to her lips without a word.

She blinked up at him, dazed. “Already...?”

“Drink,” he said flatly.

She did, the liquid glowing briefly as it worked through her system. The worst of the bruises faded. Her breathing steadied.

Victoria reached for him, eyes soft now. “You don’t have to push me away tonight. Just let me stay. Please.”

Zayn stood. He grabbed his pants and pulled them on, his back to her. “Leave.”

“Zayn...”

“I said leave.”

Her voice broke slightly. “Was it not enough?”

“It’s never enough,” he muttered, releasing her from the bonds.

She didn’t argue again. She slipped from the bed slowly, grabbing her robe from the floor. When she closed the door behind her, it echoed louder than it should have.

Zayn dropped onto the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his hair. Sweat clung to his chest. His heart still raced. The ache still throbbed in his core, from more than just climax.

Lily.

Her name haunted the quiet like a ghost. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, jaw clenched. He went through everything that happened, everything he did, and he regretted nothing. He would do it again if it pleased him.

But that was the problem, it did not please him, nothing did. He was numb, empty.

He’d hurt Victoria tonight. Marked her badly. He had taken what he wanted. And it had meant nothing.

Because while he’d been inside her, he had imagined someone else. While she had begged for more, Lily had begged him with her eyes to stop.

But she hadn’t screamed.

She had looked at him like she saw him—and that was what kept him up at night. That was what made his blood run hot even now.

Zayn lay back against the bed, staring at the ceiling, body aching, mind screaming.

And still, he thought of her. f\r(e)ewe.b no\vel.com

Always her.