Deal with the Devil

Chapter 57

Her throat was hoarse by the morning, voice nearly gone from screaming and other usages. Her body ached. Unlike the days when he'd been Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort was only too happy to force potions down her throat to keep her conscious. She didn't think she'd made so many Blood-Replenishing potions in her life as she'd swallowed over the course of the night. He'd healed her wounds to only marks before starting anew, had kept her hydrated so her tears could keep flowing.

He'd made it a point to bring her to orgasm at least once with every new torment. By the second hour under his care, she'd started sobbing, begging for mercy. He'd paused long enough to let her sip away her hiccoughs, then asked, "Are you still willing, sweetheart?" And she'd looked up at him with all the quiet hate in her being and said, "Yes, my lord."

That had been the rhythm of her night.

Rookwood had left at some point, but Antonin stayed to drink in her cries the whole night long, fisting his cock to the sounds of her begging. She vaguely remembered he'd used her blood to lubricate himself once. It was the most intimate he'd been allowed to get and she could still remember the reverence in his eyes as he was allowed to stroke her wounds. Voldemort enjoyed tormenting his followers still, holding up what he had that they wanted.

The dark wizard had lost none of his stamina as he'd aged; or perhaps it was the new body that afforded him strength. Either way, he used her until the blushing sun trekked over the horizon. He carried her down to the gates himself, capturing her in one last possessive kiss before setting her on her unsteady feet. "My offer still stands, pet," he said, fingers plucking at her bare body beneath the cloak he'd conjured for her. It amused him to refuse her clothing. "Come back to me and you will have a place among my people; otherwise..."

"No husband, no children," whispered into his chest. "I'm aware." Her tired blue eyes lifted, one small hand laying across his chest.

His crimson eyes bored into hers and he held one forearm, the other hand curling over the curve of her hip to keep her against him. "Tell me, sweetheart. How do you feel about me now?"

The quirk of her lips was as acrid as the chuckle on her tongue. "I hate you, Tom."

The Dark Lord tilted her head to lay one last kiss on her lips, licking the seam of her mouth greedily. "Mm. I know. Goodbye, pet."

"Goodbye."

"Antonin," the Dark Lord said as he released her. "Take her wand, escort her beyond the wards."

Dolohov bowed and accepted the slim stick, then offered his arm to Elena. She took it and allowed him to walk her through the gates. After a moment of silence, he spoke. "I never married, you know." She shrugged. "Stay with me."

She studied his face, shaking her head. "And belong to Tom Riddle for the rest of my life? No."

He halted them, cupping her cheek. "You would belong to me." Antonin lowered him lips to hers and planted the smallest kiss there, briefly touching the soft skin with his tongue before pulling back. "I saw how you reacted to the pain, Elena. I could give you that. Only, outside of the bedroom, you would be my wife to equal any other."

"We both know you obey his every whim, Antonin." Elena trailed her fingers over his cheek, and he leaned into the soft touch. "I cannot control the responses of my body, but I find no joy in being a pet. Not for your Dark Lord and not for you. And we both know that's what he would have of me if I stayed, whether I wed you or not."

His brows furrowed, deep lines carved on his face. "He would not do such things to one of his follower's wives."

She barked out a laughed and it was a bitter sound. "Perhaps not in public, but do you truly think he could resist being the one to push me to my breaking point? And you would not stop it. Perhaps a part of you would even enjoy it." The hand on his face moved to the one he had on her and she clutched it, staring earnestly up at him. "No. I have made myself a life and I will not give it up for something as shallow as your love."

Elena dropped his hand and stepped back.

"Elena."

"Goodbye, Antonin."

She heard his voice choke on her name as she apparated away.

--

Donal was asleep in his usual chair when she stepped into view of her little home. She stroked his head fondly and walked into her home to bathe and dress and make them breakfast. The whistle of the kettle stirred him. He jumped from his seat, eyes wide with panic until they settled on her. "Elena." The word held in it all his love for her and reached out to her, then thought better of it. Before he could drop his hand, she pulled him into her.

"I'm here, love," she whispered. "I'm here and I'm whole."

The large man started sobbing, curving around her until she moved them toward the sitting area. Instead of taking a chair himself, he laid his head against her stomach and knelt beside her legs. "I was so scared, Elle. I thought— I thought the worst would happen and I would never see you again."

"Shh." She cradled his head, kissing the salt and pepper curls. "I would never leave you."

Donal sobbed again, a new rush of tears staining her dress. When he finally looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes, he asked, "What happened? You look so tired."

"Tom—that is his name," she reminded. "He wanted something from me, and I allowed him the chance to get it. He couldn't though."

"What," Donal began, but he had to swallow. "What did he want?"

She smiled, cupping his face in her hands. "He wanted my heart, to take it and shatter it and make it into something as twisted as his own." She could see that the horror and confusion in his eyes and Elena laughed. "What he didn't understand is that my heart was not there for him to break. It's with you. It's always with you, my love."

His arms engulfed her, and she allowed herself to be held until they were both out of tears.

Later, she let him see the new scars that were already forming upon her body. While a part of her worried Tom Riddle would know another was touching her, Elena wanted Donal to see and know her. They held off on anything beyond embraces and gentle touches.

"I think it will be over soon," she told him as the sun began to set and they sat side-by-side on her porch.