Don’t Poke the Luna Chapter 225

Xena’s POV

“Don’t you think… we should go inside?” My voice trembled, barely above a whisper, as I tried to keep my composure.

Tatum’s mouth curved into a smirk against my skin. “Oh, you’re right. I want you under me.” His words dripped with intent as he pushed the door open and shoved me forward. I stumbled into the room, my eyes darting around. A bare mattress sat in the center, stained and sagging. Chains hung from the wall, glinting faintly in the dim light. The air reeked of mold and decay, a stench that clung to my throat. My pulse quickened as I scanned the space, searching for anything I could use, any way out.

Before I could process it, Tatum’s hands were on me. He grabbed my shoulders and threw me onto the mattress. The impact knocked the breath out of me, and the rough fabric scratched against my skin. My bodysuit tore as he yanked at it, the ripping sound sharp and jarring. Panic surged through me, hot and overwhelming, as his hands roamed over my body, rough and unyielding. I wanted to scream, to fight, but I swallowed it down, my mind racing for a plan.

“No!” The word burst from my lips, loud and raw, as he forced my legs apart. His face was inches from mine, his breath hot and sour.

He froze, his eyes narrowing. “What?” His voice was low, dangerous, a twisted smile pulling at his lips. “You saying no to me?” His hand lashed out, striking my face with a force that sent stars exploding behind my eyes. Pain seared through my cheek, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I turned my head, glaring at him through the haze of pain.

“I’m not saying no,” I forced out, my voice steady despite the throbbing in my face. I licked the blood from my lip, thinking fast. “I… I just want to be on top.”

Tatum’s eyes gleamed with something predatory, but he nodded. “Alright.” He stood, peeling off his shirt and tossing it aside. His pants followed, then his underwear, until he stood naked before me. I kept my expression neutral, hiding the disgust twisting in my gut. My eyes flicked to his every move, watching, waiting for an opening.

“Come on, then,” he said, lying back on the mattress. “Show me what that mouth can do.”

I moved closer, my movements slow, deliberate, as if I were complying. My hand brushed against the cold metal of the chains on the wall. “I want to use these,” I said, my voice soft but steady, my fingers grazing the links.

His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with crushing force. A sharp crack echoed in the room as pain exploded through my arm. I bit back a scream, cradling my injured wrist, the agony radiating up to my shoulder.

“Don’t play games with me,” Tatum snarled, his eyes flashing with menace.

“Suck it,” he ordered, his hand tangling in my hair and yanking my head down. His dick brushed against my cheek, and nausea roiled in my stomach. His fingers dug into my hip, nails raking down my thigh, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Blood welled up, warm and sticky, as the pain burned through me.

I couldn’t let this go further. My hand closed around him, and I forced myself to act, sliding his dick into my mouth. His head tipped back, a low groan escaping him, and his grip on my hair loosened just a fraction. My heart pounded, tears stinging my eyes, but I held on, waiting for the moment he let his guard down.

He pushed harder, forcing his dick deeper, and I gagged, my throat constricting. But I felt it—the moment his control slipped. My fangs extended, sharp and ready, and I bit down hard. The taste of blood flooded my mouth again, but this time it wasn’t mine. Tatum’s body jerked violently, a guttural cry tearing from his throat as he tried to throw me off. I held on, my jaw locked, until his fist slammed into my ribs, the impact stealing my breath. Pain radiated through my chest, but I didn’t let go until he finally wrenched my head back, tearing me away.

Blood poured from the wound, stark against his skin, as he clutched himself, his face contorted in agony.

Tatum's fist connected with my face with such force. Blood filled my mouth, the metallic taste mixing with the rage that had been building in my chest. But as his second blow landed, something inside me finally snapped.

My wolf had been clawing at my consciousness, rage building like a storm. She'd watched me suffer, watched me be beaten and humiliated, and she'd had enough. I felt my eyes begin to glow.

"What the fuck?" Tatum stumbled backward, his face shock as my claws extended.

But my wolf wasn't just powerful—she was devastated. Every hit I'd taken, every moment of helplessness, every person we'd lost had been building inside her like poison. When she lunged forward, it wasn't just with strength—it was with the accumulated anguish of everything we'd endured.

My claws tore into his chest, but instead of a clean kill, she made him suffer. "You want to hurt me?" Her voice came through my throat, broken and raw. "Let me show you real pain."

She didn't go for his heart immediately. Instead, she dragged her claws across his ribs, letting him feel every inch of agony as his flesh tore. His screams echoed off the walls, but all I could think about was Luna Kestrel's lifeless eyes, Mike's blood on the ground, William unconscious and helpless.

"Please—" Tatum gasped, his hands trying weakly to push me away.

"Did you listen when I begged?" My wolf's voice was hollow, empty of everything except grief turned to violence. "Did you stop when Luna Kestrel bled?"

Finally, she plunged her claws into his chest and squeezed his heart until it burst in her grip. But even as his eyes rolled back and his body went limp, I felt no satisfaction—only the crushing weight of everything we'd lost.