Silver Stilettos

EPILOGUE | I will always love you [1]

Before continuing, please be warned that some of the content, while not graphic, may be disturbing.

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DOMINIKA'S POV

February (4 Months Later)

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His hands on her were rough, too rough, not smooth and coaxing but calloused and demanding, squeezing her flesh like he was checking the firmness of a peach. When he sighed his pleasure, it shot a thrill down her spine, but it fizzled out before it reached the juncture of her thighs.

His name was Damian and even if he didn't know the map of her body, it wasn't his first time navigating around a woman's curves, and with expeditionary enthusiasm, he relished in the soft groove of her neck. Their fucking—because it could never be making love—was a long time in the making.

She hoped he'd give her what she wanted so she could go to sleep tired and hopefully fall into a dreamless sleep, but Damian kept kissing her neck - if it could be called that. He lapped and gnawed at her like a dog with a new bone and she was painfully aware that he was not, and could never be, Fenris North.

"Dominika," he panted when he slid into her. Her name on his lips sounded all wrong.

Now that it was happening and her body was responding to his quick, hard thrusts, she realized she didn't want it anymore. She thought about saying no, but it was too late now, wasn't it? She recalled that once she had been a person who knew that no meant no, no matter at what point the no occurred.

But she wasn't that girl anymore. She wasn't Dominika, who had been strong and brave fearless. She was something new, now. Something else.

She quivered beneath Damian's body, feeling weak and helpless, and hating herself for it. At least, the small part of her that used to be Dom hated herself for it.

Whoever she was now didn't feel hate. Didn't feel anything.

"I'm so close," Damian ground out. "Shit, Nika, I'm so close." He didn't ask her whether she was.

St. Mary's was the right kind of school for a girl like her, her father had decided. How he knew what kind of girl she was after a lifetime spent ignoring her for not being the son and heir he had wanted, she never knew. Her American mother, long used to bending under the yoke of his oppression, had said nothing in Dominika's defense.

It didn't matter to Dom, either way. Night terrors in one place were much the same as night terrors in another place. And she hadn't cared about anything after that last, horrible night at Reed's house, so she'd let her father dictate what she needed. It seemed easier than caring.

"Is this good for you, Nika?"

She didn't know why he kept calling her that. She wasn't a Nika. She didn't feel like a Nika. But then, she didn't feel much like a Dominika, either.

Isn't that the point of this? a voice in her head nagged. To feel something? Isn't that why you're letting this ape maul you while you just lay there mewling like a pathetic cunt?

Vaguely, Dom wondered why her conscience was such a raging bitch.

Damian looked nothing like Fenris. Damian was the kind of honey-tan that hinted at his mixed heritage, and his eyes weren't slanted and upturned like Fen's, but round and thickly-lashed. He was handsome and tall, and when he tossed a football around on the green, all the girls would stop to look. She missed Fenris' unassuming good looks, his svelte body, and tender lips.