Rejected by the Alpha, Claimed by his Brother

The door was shut after Rosario and Ernesto and then, they were gone.

Thank the Devil.

I could finally breathe again—if only that weren’t a luxury I didn’t actually have thanks to this useless body. My whole being was thrumming with rage, but I could do nothing but lie there, seething in a silent prison of my own flesh.

Ernesto. That bastard. I could still see him; his hands on my property. His fingers squeezing, his arrogant little chuckles, the way Rosario giggled like some lovesick idiot...

Dios mío.

I needed to kill something. Someone. No, no—killing was too kind. Too fast.

My mind spun with the possibilities. Would I gut him like a pig? Cut out his tongue and make Rosario serve it in a stew? Tie him to a chair and peel his fingernails off one by one while he sobbed for mercy?

Or...

Would I skin him first? Very slowly. Then I would break every bone in his pathetic body, one by one, making sure he felt each and every snap reverberate down to his very soul. Then, just when he thought he could take no more, I’d sew him back together just to start all over again.

Oh, he would scream, of course. He’d beg. He’d wail. He’d plead for his life.

And I’d smile.