What We Left Unsaid

Zacky had spent the majority of his evening brooding over the liquor bottle, perched up on a rock and glaring at the nearly-full moon as he downed huge sips. He was pissed, he knew he was pretty much out of time, and for some insane fucking reason, the more he drank, the more he felt like taking Ava’s offer was the best option he had. Not that he actually felt it was truly what she wanted, of course. It was actually quite the contrary; because he knew she did not really want it, because he knew she had a hell of a lot of better options that she hadn’t bothered to admit to, and because he still thought it had all been a sick joke of hers to mention it in the first place... because of that, he thought it was a fantastic option. Oh, how pissed it would make her, and how much she’d regret it for the rest of her life! He was more than happy to knock her from her damned high horse.

And that’s why, right before the moon was about to be in its highest position, Zachary Baker found himself completely drunk and in Ava Rinaldi’s room. She was asleep when he shut the door behind him, and she didn’t wake when he, in a surprisingly quiet manner, discarded of his almost-empty bottle on one of her dressers. She didn’t even wake when he sent a dark look in her direction, crossing the room until he was glaring down at her from right beside the bed.

Vengeance gleaming in his cold eyes, he unbuckled his belt and undid his pants, not bothering to completely remove them before he reached forward and tore the sheet from her body. He didn’t hesitate to position himself above her, using one had to hold himself up as the other shoved her nightgown up, completely exposing her, before he pushed his own clothing down to his knees.

She was awake when he then roughly slammed into her, not awarding her even a few seconds to adjust to what he could tell her body had never experienced, but she didn’t fight him off, didn’t even try to stop him.

Her eyes had flashed in anger and surprise when she had first opened them to find him hovering over her, but she had promptly turned her head away, choosing instead to stare at the wall across the room than at him. And, for some reason unbeknownst to him, that only infuriated him further, making him even rougher than he had intended to be. He wasn’t surprised when the scent of blood had almost immediately assaulted his sensitive nose, and he didn’t for a second believe it was only coming from her clenched fists, where her nails had undoubtedly broken the skin, and from her lip, where he could tell she had bitten; when two werewolves had intercourse, it was impossible for the male to resist the urge to mark her as his mate, and, as Ava most certainly had not had a mate, he knew she hadn’t ever been with a werewolf. He also expected that she hadn’t been with any humans in order to avoid the whole mate business, because of how untainted her bloodline was -- had been. He had correctly expected her to be a virgin, but that didn’t make him at all inclined to slow his pace.

And, rough as he was, she didn’t make a sound, didn’t cry out even though he could see her flinching with his every movement, and she didn’t look back in his direction, though even with her head turned sharply to the side he could see the buildup of water in them. He didn’t let himself care. He hadn’t wanted to rape her, and her submission clearly proved that he hadn’t, but her pain and her unhappiness did please him, just because it was one more thing on the list of insults he was managing to give her in this one simple act. It didn’t take long for him to get his release, but as he gave one final slam into her, instinct took over and he leaned forward to buried his teeth into the skin between the exposed side of her neck and her shoulder, as was customary.

The only sound either of them made throughout the entire ordeal was an infuriated growl that he gave, even with his jaws locked tight around her flesh, when he unexpectedly felt her teeth digging into skin between his neck and shoulder. Males were expected to mark their territory; females were not, and he was pissed by the insult she had dared to give him, but rather than stay longer to deal with her, he simply pulled away and got to his feet, tugging his boxers and pants back into place before snatching his liquor and taking his leave, no words exchanged at all.

And as he stalked back through the halls to his room, he could do nothing but smirk, his own unhappiness at the situation overshadowed by the satisfaction of knowing how unhappy she most likely was. He had awarded her no comforts because he didn’t feel she deserved them, he hadn’t so much as kissed her because that would’ve been a sign of affection, he had kept careful control of any of his urges to even so much as grunt in pleasure because he refused to give her any satisfaction, he hadn’t undressed either of them more than was necessary because he didn’t want her to know he was even slightly attracted to her, and he had marked her deeper than most mates were marked, because he didn’t want her, or anyone else, to forget that she, the royally pedigreed bitch, was mated to him, the mutt.