Don't Love Me

Chapter 10

"Beg me to stop," Klaus tells her, smiling at her weakness. His body rams into hers so forcefully that she slides across the bed. He might have allowed her to heal from his abuse, but the idea of disloyalty from any of his servants has killed any mercy he would have had. Now he wants someone to suffer for the deception, and until he finds out who the betrayer is he can only take his anger out on her. He has her by the hair, pulling her head back and exposing her lily-white neck. "Do it now..." His pointed teeth slowly graze her skin just above the artery, almost puncturing the skin.

"Stop, stop now. Please..." her legs ache from being forced apart for so long and her pelvis feels as if it is cracked. Her insides throb with a kind of pleasure pain, a kind of stinging satisfaction. She doesn't want to, but she knows her body would welcome him back. "Please..."

"Louder." He holds her hips in place and angles himself so that he penetrates her at just the right spot, manipulating her into becoming more and more aroused. He watches with narrowed eyes as she shakes her head and presses her lips together in denial. He withdraws from her with a suddenness that makes her scream out.

"Please!" This time her scream is so loud that it momentarily deafens him. "Please! Please! I Beg you, Please!"

-#-

Damon has to travel much slower than he wants in order for Tyler to lead him to Klaus, and it's enough for him to get twitchy. "Can't you move any faster, dog?"

Tyler turns back on him with his eyes turned intense. He had to consciously breathe in an out a few times to get his mounting anger under control. Perhaps Damon doesn't appreciate the sensitivity of a werewolf's nose, and that scent trails are absolutely everywhere, and following just one is almost as difficult as finding a needle in a haystack? "It's around here somewhere, just give me a minute."

-#-

"I don't think you deserve a rest." His voice is hard, authoritative, sadistic. He slaps her hard around the face, hard enough that he here's her neck fracture. He watches her head fall limply forward, but he soon takes her chin supports her head. "I've just broken your neck. It's painful but it won't kill you. I'll hold your head like this," his thumb of his left hand cups her head under her chin, "until your spine grows strong again." His right hand is tugging and stroking his penis, quicker and quicker, and his eyes are growing more and more distant as the orgasm approaches.

For a few precious moments all is dark, all is gentle, and nothing hurts an more. It's the most peace she has known in a long time, maybe ever, and she wishes she could remain in this state and not return to reality.

And then, what feels like far too soon, everything comes back; the pain, the terrible torture of before, his rough hands, and his face so beautiful and yet so monstrous. He's smiling down at her and, before she can anticipate it, he presses his lips tenderly down on hers. His lips seem to fit perfectly against her own, so soft, so perfect, as if they were made to fit with hers. His tongue, when it probes her, does not feel so much like an intruder, and his mouth tastes like her favourite dessert. Her mouth moves with his without any thought, but when she finally can think she pulls away. There is a smacking sound accompanying her withdrawal, and it is this sound which breaks the spell.

"That was quick..." Klaus murmurs, his eyes hooded and darker with thought. Even he couldn't have healed so quickly from a broken neck, and hers had broken, he'd heard it snap. He looks at her closely, closer and closer. His nose stopped an inch above her skin, he breathed her scent in. That has changed too. "You're different." He meant to only think it, but said it anyway. He can see in her eyes that she has heard him and has the words dissected in her mind, trying to discover their meaning. He doesn't want her getting any ideas; he has to stop her from thinking...

You have been betrayed. Death is coming.

Klaus's thrown her into the farthest wall and she feels the surface crack beneath her. Her head feels as though it's cracked, blood runs down her forehead, but she won't fall unconscious. She want to, she wants to escape this pain, but her vision is still crystal clear. Run, the voice inside her instructs, insistent with pin-pricks of pain on her forehead, Run while you still can. Save yourself. Save us.

"Fucking spineless wolf," He growls, at the image of Tyler in his memory, his posture hunched as his fists clench tightly. His mouth opens wide with his roar of fury and all his sharp, pointed teeth glisten unnaturally. "We need to go. Get up and get out." He watches her for any sign of movement, or any sign of comprehension, and can sense her conciousness. She is still and silent, and would be dead if she was not sired by him. Because his blood is coursing through her veins he feels confident that in time she will wake, but not soon enough. It may be only a matter of minutes until trouble bursts in, and trouble is something that he can do without. After living as long as he has, he no patience for trouble-makers.

He collects her from the ground, feeling all the torn skin and broken bones, and throws her over his shoulder and approaches the window with his fist raised as if to knock. Instead, he smashes the glass into a million tiny little pieces, some refracting back at him and landing in Jennifer's hair like crystals of ice. He checks her face and finds it unmarked, apart from a little blood from healed wounds. If he had hurt her face it would be unfortunate, nothing more. If the rest of her body had been damaged then maybe he would care. The first time he saw her he knew that she was his, would be his, and so he took her that night. It had been outside a bar, it had been snowing, she had been shivering. He can remember it perfectly. He looks down at the gravel driveway below and jumps.

He lands gracefully, taking the impact easily. Jennifer hardly feels the soft impact with the ground, it's easy to keep silent and still, and it is unbelievable that such a vile monster can hold her so closely, so carefully. Pretending to be unconscious seems to be the best decision she could have made, considering his gentleness with her prone and helpless body. It is as if, with her silent and dumb, he is gentle with her. She wonders how long she can keep this charade up.

"It's around here somewhere, I swear. Why would I lie?"

Jennifer feels the arms around her tighten and she wonders what has made Klaus grow still again, and why his anger is rising. She can feel his emotions as if they are her own, although her own are pushed to the background right at this moment. A rumble, as if of thunder, comes from close above her and she realises that it is him growling. She's never heard anything so primeval in all her life, and she has to wonder just how wild Klaus might be, and whether he was more than just an animal in bed.

"I swear, Tyler, if we end up being too late I will skin you alive..."

"Tyler..." that one word is forced out past his suddenly thin, livid lips.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Can Klaus hear the voices too?

Klaus's feeling of rage sends power prickling across her skin. It's as if he's sending power out into the forest surrounding the building, probing for something, or for someone.

-#-

A big bead of sweat rolled down Tyler's forehead and he turns away from Damon as much as he can. Damon's fist is clutching at his shirt, close to his neck, and it restricts his movement. His chest constricts painfully and he gasps for breath. Damon can feel the power too, as it rolls between trees and over streams, and he knows without reason that it is specifically hunting for them. It is as if the power has a mind of its own, or at least enough intelligence to want to seek them out. It only took a fraction of a moment to guess from what, or whom, the power originated.

"Klaus..." His eyes narrow and his gaze fixes upon the almost undetectable shimmer of magic trailing deeper into the woods.

"Klaus?" His voice is panicked. The werewolf has no desire to go anywhere near a being who has the power to control him as if he were no better than a domesticated dog. He stops moving forwards and stands still, his gut clenching. "I can't-"

Damon holds a finger to his lips and treads carefully towards the darkest part of the thick, curtain almost, of trees. Something pulls him towards it, like compulsion only purer, and he isn't about to fight the feeling. Never mind his words, he can hear Tyler's footsteps, which means his enemy can too.