Cursed Angels

“Dollface,” he murmurs the nickname he gave me. I nod. “Turn around. Bend over. I need to be inside you,” he orders. I obey. He slides my jeans along with my panties down my thighs. I’m about to say something when he suddenly slams into me, seating himself within my body where he was always meant to be.

His hips draw back, and he once again knocks the breath from my lungs.

“Fuck, what have they done to me?” he growls as his cock fills me almost painfully. His hand fists my hair, tugging it back, his mouth at my ear. “Don’t leave me, Mara. I’m fucked up. I need help,” he grunts. His tongue laving at my neck, his teeth bear down on the sensitive skin. “I’m going to fucking mark you. You’re mine,” he promises as he continues to suckle on my flesh.

My body pulses around him. His other hand grips my neck, and he squeezes. Fear overrides my pleasure, and my body tenses.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he vows as he plunges into me again and again. His hands, mouth, and cock own me. They fucking claim me, and as he chokes me, I come hard around his cock. My eyes roll back, and sparks shoot through every inch of me.

His body locks behind me, and I feel it. Jet after jet of hot release fills me. And tears sting my eyes as I wish to all that’s holy that he was filling my womb with his seed.

I blink as the tears stream down my face when Archer pulls out. He rights my underwear and jeans then stuffs himself into his boxers. When he lifts his eyes to mine, he sees the tears.

“Did I hurt you?” The concern in his voice is evident.

“No. You just left me in Hell.”

I see the pain and guilt in his eyes. “Don’t give up . . . on me,” he utters before clutching his head and screaming in agonizing pain. He groans, and I don’t know how to help him. His gaze locks on mine, and it’s as if I can see a switch flicking behind those dark orbs, back and forth between now and then. Something’s wrong, so terribly wrong. “Fuck this,” Archer hisses. “You have to—” He cuts himself off as his eyes close for a long while, and I wonder if I should touch him. I want to.

My whole body aches to hold him, but I have to admit to myself that I’m scared of what he could do. His fingers dig into his skull, practically tearing his hair out, and I can’t take it anymore. I reach for him, a gentle touch to his shoulder, and that’s when his hand grips my wrist painfully, twisting it unnaturally.

“Don’t think you can make me feel shit for you,” he bites out. And just like that, but before I can respond, his face grows cold. “Come near my doctors again and I’ll fucking break you more than they did,” he sneers, his fist making contact with my lower abdomen right where my scar is. The pain is excruciating, causing me to double over. My breath stolen from me, but before he walks away, Archer delivers the final blow to me. “You can’t give me anything I want.”

Chapter 16

Archer

I’ve been standing naked in front of the mirror for an hour now. I should shower and get my shit together, but I can’t. I can still feel this Samara on my skin; her scent lingers around me and stifles my nostrils with confusion. Our combined essences, though now dry, coat my dick. How the fuck can I have sex with someone and not remember it? How can I completely forget her when I so obviously have feelings for her? All I have inside me, for the woman named Samara, is a murderous rage for the murder of our doctors. I’ve been at The Factory all my life because my parents died when I was a baby. I know nothing different, and I’ve trusted the decisions they’ve made for me implicitly, but right now, I’m questioning everything. These people have trained me to be the astute killer that I am. They’ve clothed, fed, and watered me. Anything I’ve needed, they’ve sorted, so why do I feel like a puppet on a string, dangling to another’s whim?

Damn it. I need to man the fuck up. I’m being a total wimp here and allowing a bit of pussy to cloud my judgement. I’m a made man. I don’t have to worry about a thing again, and this woman, no matter who she was to me in the past, is not going to get in my way.

I stare forward, my eyes glued to the reflection.

“I’m a soldier. I fight for what is right. I’m a soldier. I deliver justice where it’s needed. I’m a soldier, and you can’t beat me.”