Chapter 147: Grief
Lethia gasped, her eyes blinking rapidly as Varrel’s tongue forced its way into her mouth. Her lips parted unwillingly under the cruel grip on her cheek.
Both her hands slammed against his shoulders, trying to shove him off in a futile, panicked attempt. But Varrel’s other arm was already wrapped tight around her waist, possessive and immovable.
Her head spun. Nausea surged in her gut as she twisted her tongue, trying desperately to dodge his. Her eyes welled up, the sting of disgust rising hard in her veins. She was furious and cursed every vile suck from his filthy mouth.
When her pushes failed to make him budge, she bit down on his tongue—hard.
Varrel let out a pained grunt and immediately jerked away, breaking the kiss and pulling back with a sharp hiss.
Without missing a beat, Lethia shoved him off and slapped him across the face, so loud it snapped through the car like a whip. It still wasn’t enough. She raised her hand again, ready to land another one, but Varrel caught her wrist just in time.
Her chest heaved, breath hitching as she yanked her arm back. She wiped her mouth with the back of her trembling hand, trying to scrub off the contamination.
Her brimming eyes, broken with helpless tears, glared at Varrel, who winced and clutched his mouth. Good. She was certain his tongue was bleeding from the bite.
She tasted metal in her own mouth, bitter and vile.
And when he dared turn back to look at her, she spat right in his face. Spat like she wanted to purge the defilement, throwing it back at him.
But the bastard only smirked.