Revolting

I wrenched my wrist away. "What? No. I hardly think that is necessary."

He threw back his head and laughed. It was such a cold, emotionless laugh that it made my blood freeze in my veins. "Oh, I'm afraid it is, actually necessary. Didn't you read the contract? The marriage is not legally binding unless it is consummated." And then he began to drag me back toward the pack house. I resisted, and our struggle was drawing more than a few curious and concerned stares. "You will NOT embarrass me in front of my pack," he whispered so only I could hear, and then he swept me up in my arms. It looked sweet and romantic, the newly wed husband carrying his bride away. They couldn't see that he was pinching me under the dress as he whisked me away.Original from NôvelDrama.Org.

He used the elevator, and for the first time I saw the fourth floor, the floor that was exclusively for the Alpha's immediate family. I wasn't really aware of what was around me though, I was having this terrible battle. My rational human self was rebelling against his hold on me. Fight back! Get away! Run! Don't let this happen! The other half, my lupine self, was just feeling happy to be close to her mate. "This is right, Nina. This is natural. This is our other half. Don't fight it. Its fate. Its destiny." Caught between the two, I was paralyzed. He carried me to a door near the far end of the hall and kicked it open. I barely had the impression of a very masculine room in muted navy and earth tones before he dropped me unceremoniously. I stumbled, but caught myself on the edge of the bureau before I fell down.

You hear about all the romantic "first times" between mates. The magical foreplay, the passion, the desire, and the orgasms. Well, that wasn't how it was for me. He shoved me forward into the dresser, and yanked the skirt of the wedding dress up. He ripped my panties off, and while that might sound hot when you read it, in reality, it hurts. The fabric bites into your skin and bruises your before the seams give out and it tears away. I was equal parts repulsed... and turned on. And I hated myself for it. I did not want to want this. I did not want to want him. Not like this, not this way, and I felt like my body betrayed me by responding. In the next instant he had unzipped his trousers. He did not even bother to get undressed. By virtue of the fact that I was leaning over his dresser and facing the mirror, I could see everything. I saw his huge erection, and I felt the fear. I knew it was going to hurt. But worse than seeing his naked member, was seeing his face. There was no love there. It wasn't even handsome any more, not when it was twisted up some mix of rage and disgust. He met my eyes in the mirror, and there was nothing there but hatred. And then he slammed into me, tearing right through my virginity without any feeling or remorse. I cried out in pain, but he didn't care. If anything, it might have made him worse. With every rough shove of his pelvis, he pushed me hard into the dresser. I stopped watching his face and focused on my white knuckled hands, trying to hold myself up so that I wouldn't actually ram my head into the mirror.

There was nothing romantic about it. It was rough, painful, and fast. After pounding into me for about 5 minutes, he stiffened, groaned, and ejaculated. For all of thirty seconds afterwards he leaned into me, breathing heavily. And I waited, holding my breath. Waiting for what? I don't know, some kind of feeling from him. I didn't expect any declarations of love, but we were mates, and we had just... mated. So I thought... I dunno, something!

He pulled himself out, zipped his pants back up. He yanked open his bedroom door, and grabbed me by the arm, and just like that, he threw me out into the hall way. I was tangled up in my dress and this time I had nothing to grab hold of, so I went sprawling. He looked down on me with an expression of full disgust. "You will never sleep in my bed." And he slammed the door. I even heard the lock turn. As if I would try to get back into that room.

Don't cry Nina. Don't you dare cry. I crawled to the wall and used the door jam of another room to pull myself back up to my feet. I could feel the sticky heat of my own blood and his semen running down my thighs. I started back toward the elevator, thinking to go back to my third floor room, before I realized I didn't have the key. I didn't even know where there stairs were, as I hadn't oriented myself to the fourth floor yet. I tried the door that I had just pulled myself on, and it opened easily under my hand. It seemed to be an unused guest room. There were dust sheets over the bed and furniture, and there were no signs of any inhabitants. I locked the door and stumbled to the bathroom.

I stripped out of the dress and felt hot tears sting my eyes. I had gotten blood on the skirt, and there was a small tear at the waist. I started to run hot water to try and rinse out the blood before the stain set. This was my mama's dress, my grandmother's dress. My sister's should wear it at their weddings. Their daughters should wear it. And I had just ruined it with my own blood and filth. I scrubbed it and scrubbed it with a bar of bath soap, but still a faint stain was visible. I set it aside with tears in my eyes... I felt like I had done more than damage the dress. It was like I had violated my own mother. I looked at myself in the mirror and cringed. My make up was smudged and running from the tears in my eyes. I stood there wearing only the bra and corset, and the blood-stained stockings. As I peeled off the underwear, it was easy to see the bruises across my midriff from the edge of the bureau. And the finger prints on my arms and wrists. But the bruises you could see in the glass were nothing compared to the wounds in my soul.

I was just raped by my own husband.

Was it rape? Had I ever actually said no, and refused? No, it was so much worse. I had just stood there mutely and let him do it. If he had really raped me, I could have blamed and hated him. But the way I'd passively let it happen... I hated myself more. Damn me for my own weakness. Damn me for succumbing to the lure of the mating bond. Damn me for listening to my wolf and her promises of "fate" and "destiny."

"He hurt us," my wolf whimpered. "He's a bad mate."

I turned on the shower as hot as it would go. I couldn't find a wash cloth, so I balled up one of my stockings and I used that to scrub and scrub and scrub at my skin, trying to wash off every touch. I scrubbed between my legs trying to wash away his seed and his smell and all of the pain he'd left there. Yeah, it hurt. It was so sore that I could barely walk. He had used me like an animal... and thrown me out like a whore. He'd "consummated the marriage" and now he was done with me. I know I said I wouldn't cry, but I did. I slid down in the shower until I was sitting in the bottom of the tub, hugging my knees, and let the sobs rip from my body. Before I ran out of tears, I ran out of hot water, and I was forced out of the shower. I had no clothes in the room, but I found a couple of towels and a bathrobe. I wrapped up my hair in a turban, and cinched on the bathrobe. I'd figure out how to get my clothes later. For now, I pulled off the dust cover, gave the bedclothes a quick shake, and crawled into the bed. I was too exhausted to think any more. All I knew was that the day that should have been the most beautiful and memorable day of my life, had turned into one of the worst. The only day in my memory that stood out as more terrible than my wedding day, was the day my mother died.

As I wrapped myself in the comforter I thought... a piece of me just died tonight too.