Bound by Blood

Chapter 111- healing and hurting

(Y/N) POV:

I can't find it in me to care. Or to reign back any of my shredded tattered control when I feel vicious pleasure at the way his head lolls to one side, the skin of his lips torn accidentally because of how his fangs had pierced into them. I find no mercy in me because it would've been bearable if it had been me he'd continued goading, fine if he'd talked about what he'd done to me but to bring up my parents, to be so blasé about their deaths, so filthily disrespectful and vile had made me want to silence him. I tilt his face towards me, hand sliding down to grip at his throat- not hard enough to do the damage he'd done to me but hard enough that it stills him, holds him captive between them.

I tighten my hold so he can't make sound and look at him, my own eyes boring into his dark inky depths. 

"Since you're fond of playing games let's play." I hiss, barely recognising the cold forceful tone that speaks those words.

"Let's continue your game, yeah?" I ask, not waiting for his response, not seeing anything but blankness in his eyes.

That's fine, I can work perfectly with that.

"My story is about a beautiful man who escapes this sick, horrible thing and finds happiness like he's meant to. And you know what he's so glad, he's so brave and happy and perfect. And after some time he finds the pretty little doll you mentioned, and he sets her free, he gives her a brilliant life. And this doll loves him and he loves her. He loves her so he leaves his claim on her, she loves him so she feeds from him first. And you know what else. They both come together to get rid of this old ugly thing- who has no value anymore. And that thing is you Chul." I croon.

And that's when I see it, the angry fire back in his eyes- weak spluttering flames as he gazes at me, tries to speak but can't get the voice out of his throat, not with the way my hand tightens and cuts them off.

He doesn't get to speak. Not anymore.

I feel vindictive pleasure at how he seems powerless and defeated.

"Ah ah Chul none of that. Yoongi oppa doesn't like old things meddling with his mates." I say chidingly when he tries to snap his fangs down, to rip off my hand.

A guttural growl escapes from behind me, chilling and vicious.

I lean in to whisper conspiratorially.

"Neither do my other mates." I say, face hardened.

And before I step back, before I leave I lean in to whisper into his ear.

"You tore my mum open; you gutted my dad; you gave my mate hell and you made me lose my life. And I will pay you back for every single wrong you've done to me; I will return every ounce of pain Chul." I promise, feeling hate pour out of me. There's no mercy, he's pushed me past the point of ever seeing him as something worthy.

His eyes are slightly dazed, as if somehow he wasn't expecting it, wasn't expecting me to retaliate, to have any fight in me.

And as I step back, I glance down at him.

At the lowlife he is.

"And I don't think you need a tongue anymore Chul, pretty useless thing isn't it?" I say before turning, feeling that strong persona melt away alarmingly quick. That the moment my back turns to him, the cool detachment slides off my face and I feel my lips wobble.

The ache in my throat has become greater, more prominently feeling the hoarseness to my voice, feeling his hands powerful and unrelenting as he squeezed my throat.