el

Since the hunt has ended, Titus hasn’t let you get out of his sight. He has had at least one contact point with you, usually his hand on your back, or ass, or arm. After getting out of the bath, where he insists on drying you off, he all but throws a temper tantrum when you ask to go to the bathroom alone. 

“I won’t look, I’ll stand facing the door, swear,” he says.

“Ew, you freak, no,” you reiterate. 

“Please?” He's basically whining now. You have such a love-hate relationship with his bratty attitude. It is sort of growing on you, but at the same time it reeks of spoiled child. 

“No, it’ll be less than a minute,” you say, squeezing past him and into the bathroom. You pull the door tight and lock it. 

Titus huffs, not understanding why you’d want to be away from him. He’s not usually this good with taking no for an answer, but he can see why this would be a boundary. Regardless, he doesn’t understand why. It’s not even a sexual thing; he just genuinely doesn’t like not being able to see you. The time drags by painstakingly slowly for him.

Finishing up less than three minutes later, you unlock the door and Titus all but jumps you to grab your hand. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying, at least a little bit, the attention he’s been handing out. Even though there have been bits where the crazy shines through, it does feel nice to have someone so desperate to be around you. And he’s been holding back the aggression you know is lurking below the surface.

“Are you tired?” He asks softly. You are; who wouldn’t be? You got married, got hunted down, committed several murders, all within a span of 12 hours. 

But, wanting to show him you appreciate his effort at normalcy, you hold back the snarky remarks and reply with a simple, “Yeah.” He smiles, swooping you up into his arms. 

“I love you so much,” he says, kissing your forehead gently. 

“I love you too,” you repeat back. You are sort of feeling something like love for him. You have been for a little while, but it’s so weird admitting it. After all, he did kidnap you and put you through actual hell. He pulls you a little tighter, fully loving the way it sounds coming from you. 

“Should we consummate the marriage?” He asks, and you can’t really tell if he’s fucking with you or not. 

Wrinkling your nose, “Can you not call it that?” The word makes you cringe a bit, even though Titus has seen and done pretty much everything imaginable to you. He half smirks as he lightly tosses you onto the bed. 

“What would Mrs. Danforth rather we refer to it as?” He says with a lifted eyebrow. 

“I don’t know, not consummating. That sounds, like, just weird,” you respond, curling up under the covers. He climbs in next to you, pulling your naked body against his. 

In a low whisper, with his lips practically on your ears, “What about fucking? Or making love?” 

You involuntarily shiver from the feeling and his words. “You don’t come across as the “making love” type.” 

“Do you want me to?” he asks, running his hands over your shoulders. You blush, his softness making you more nervous and awkward than his usual aggression and violence. 

“Maybe,” you mumble. He plants a gentle kiss on your shoulder. 

“I’ll try,” he says as he lowers himself fully under the covers. You squirm slightly as he puts himself between your legs. His rough hands push your thighs apart. As soon as you let them fall, he’s ever so gently dragging his tongue along you. You moan, shocked at how delicate he’s being. You never really would’ve expected Titus to be able to show such self-control. 

Using one of his hands, he guides your hand to his curls. You intertwine your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to you. He responds with a grunt and moves his thumb to your clit. Your thighs tighten around him, but he doesn’t slow down at all. Your back starts to arch off the bed, all while you’re still pulling him by his hair closer to you. 

“Fuck Titus,” you moan. The feeling is starting to be too much, and you know you’re close. You half expect him to pull away and ruin the moment, but he keeps going. You clench your thighs tightly as the orgasm washes over you. Titus keeps licking and rubbing you through it, stopping right as the feeling gets to be too much. You squeeze your eyes closed, let your legs fall, and take a deep breath. You are confident you have never felt something so good in your entire life. “Why didn’t you start with that?” you say, in shock that he’s able to make you feel that way. 

With a kiss to the back of your head, he pulls you against him again. “To be fair, you never asked,” he says, and you can see the smile he’s wearing. Titus honestly is a little shocked it was so good for you. Never in his life has he tried a gentle approach. He’s always been about being rough, hard, and fast. However, despite not getting any physical contact from it, he’s beyond horny. He is certain he has never heard anything somehow both angelic and pornographic simultaneously than your sweet voice moaning his name. He silently curses himself for not trying this earlier with you. 

You turn around, feeling his hard-on pressing into his back. Slowly, you wrap your hand around his dick, wanting to reward him. He lets out a small groan, but pushes your hands away. 

“I want this to be for you, sweetheart,” he says, pulling you into a kiss. Now it’s your turn to act a bit bratty, but still nothing like peak Titus. Pouting at him, you try to put your hands back around him. He moves them again.“Do you want to have sex?” he whispers, looking into your eyes. 

The directness makes you blush and causes that sense of nervousness to rise a bit. You nod, but know he needs to hear you say it: “I really want to have sex with you, Titus.”

No further prompting needed; he guides his tip to your opening, slowly rubbing along it. You moan and wrap your arms around him, lightly pressing your nails into his back. Taking it as a sign, he pushes into you. 

“Fuck princess, you’re so tight and wet for me,” he says as he starts to roll his hips. Leaning down, he kisses you again, this time running his tongue along your lip. Opening your mouth, you let his tongue explore your mouth as his thrusts start to pick up in pace. Putting his hands on your ass, he starts to move you in time with his hips, helping himself hit even deeper. 

“Jesus, Titus, I’m so close,” you whine, feeling yourself clenching onto his dick. 

“Wait, just a second,” he murmurs, rocking harder into you. Between your nails grazing his back, you holding him tight, and the desperate sounds coming from your mouth, he knows he can’t hold on for too much longer. 

“Can’t,” you manage to get out as you come for the second time. You grip him even tighter, wanting to get as physically close as humanly possible. With your head pressed against his chest, you listen to his rapid heartbeat and heavy breaths. He shudders, and you feel him twitching buried deep inside you. 

“Sorry,” he sheepishly says, burying his face into your shoulder.

“What for?” you ask, still holding him tight. 

“I should’ve paced myself a little bit more,” he says. You can’t help but giggle a bit as you kiss his head.

“Promise it’s alright. It’s more than alright,” you say, relishing not only in the physical feeling, but the embarrassment coming from Titus. 

“Are you sure? I can go-,” he starts to say, but you cut him off with a kiss. 

“I’m sure. It was really good,” you say as you pull away. You start to move to slide him out, but his hands hold you in place.

“Can we stay like this?” he whispers. This side of Titus is making you feel like the sex-crazed one. The request causes you to tighten, getting a small moan from him. You nod, really enjoying the power you’re holding over him. “I want to stay in you tonight, like this,” he murmurs, running his fingers through your hair. 

Even though you feel him hardening already and the fullness is almost overwhelming, you don’t say anything. If everything he told you is true, which you have no reason to think otherwise, you know this is the first time he’s experienced any sort of real physical intimacy. And, since he is your husband and all, you do want him to feel what love feels like. 

“Aw, I wouldn’t have guessed you were a big softie,” you tease. You see the spark in his eye almost immediately. 

“Tonight is for you; tomorrow we’ll do something special for me,” he replies, his mocking tone coming back. 

After much protesting and screaming, Titus managed to half-carry, half-drag you back into the house. Wrapping you up in a towel, he promises a warm bath and an “open” conversation as soon as the Lawyer confirms the game has ended. You scowl at him from the couch, jerking away from his touch. 

“You’re not going to be able to avoid me forever, princess,” he says, moving his hand back to his side. “Nothing changed from yesterday, you know.”

“Besides the fact I am sitting here covered in your family's blood,” you huff. “And I killed your sister. Oh! And you snapped a man’s neck for not apologizing enough in front of me.” Titus pulls his mouth in a tight frown before responding. 

“I told you I’d do anything for you. I love you,” he says, as if that’s a totally reasonable response. You open your mouth to retort, but the door swings open and the Lawyer walks in. 

“Mr. Danforth,” he nods to Titus before turning to you, “Mrs. Danforth.” You already heard Titus say it, and you did use to almost fantasize about how it’d feel. But you do not like how it feels at all, especially after hearing the horror stories about Titus from now all-dead men. 

“Is the game over?” Titus asks, cutting directly to the point. 

The Lawyer nods, “It ended with the death of Ursula; my condolences, by the way. The two remaining participating Danforths left the playing field.”

Titus smiles a toothy grin and has to physically stop himself from hugging you. He can tell you’re still pissed at him, even if he genuinely cannot fully grasp why. “So, we’re done?”

“Nearly. You both must participate in the traditional blood binding ritual. It can be a closed ceremony,” the Lawyer replies. 

“Can we do it now?” he asks.

“What happens if we don’t do it?” You interrupt, “Do I get to be free?”

“Ah, the bylaws make it clear it must be done willingly by both parties. If the ritual is not completed, nothing changes. However, you may find it’s in your best interest, Mrs. Danforth,” he says, offering you an almost sympathetic look.

“What the fuck does that mean?” you snark. 

“Mr. Le Bail is rather traditional. When the original contract was made, the wife was viewed as being beneath the husband. Without completing the more modern pact, the original agreement is valid,” the Lawyer responds. Titus looks incredibly pleased with this information, and you want nothing more than to slap him. But you refrain. 

“So, he’s a sexist piece of shit? I don’t have any rights right now?” you practically shriek. 

“I am afraid not, Mrs. Danforth. You are akin to property until the blood ritual.” 

You laugh out loud out of pure shock. “Great, so now I’m doubly fucked. I’m practically a slave to a psychopathic murderer,” you say in disbelief. Titus has a full-blown shit-eating smirk now. 

“Maybe we can put off the blood ritual,” he teased. He really can’t believe his luck. Not only is his sister dead and you killed her, but you’re fully his. There’s absolutely no way for you to escape or back out. 

“Fuck you,” you snort, slamming back into the couch. 

“I don’t think that’d be very proper in front of the Lawyer, do you?” He says mockingly. 

“I would rather not participate in that; is there anything else?” The Lawyer responds.

“How could she kill Ursula if she shared the High Seat?” Titus asks, turning his full attention back to the Lawyer.

“Your Father removed her from the Seat after your marriage ceremony,” The Lawyer answers. Titus really cannot believe it; this may be the best day of his life. Actually, this definitely is the best day of his life. 

“Hail Satan,” he says, wishing only that you’d celebrate with him.

“Hail Satan,” the Lawyer repeats before excusing himself. Titus scoots closer to you.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he whispers.

“Go fuck yourself,” you retort as you push further into the couch.

“Don’t be such a brat. Do you want to go shower?” He asks, cutting you a bit of slack given the circumstances.

“Alone, yes. With you, no.”

“Mm, I don’t think you have a choice, do you?” He meets your eyes with an infuriating smirk. 

“I am not leaving the couch,” you insist, whipping your head around and pulling the towel tighter. You would rather sit in the blood and grime from the hunt than be touched by him. 

“I’m going to give you one final chance, princess; then we’ll do it my way. Which I’d assume you’ll not enjoy as much,” he says as he stands up, offering you his hand. Refusing to even look at him, you don’t move. “Have it your way.” He turns and abruptly walks away without another word. 

Looking around, you contemplate running. But, really, what’s the point? You think to yourself; he’ll find me eventually. Instead, you sink further into the couch, yanking the towel as tight as you can around your body and curling your legs to your chest. 

You think about everything that’s led to this point, all the way back to the night at the bar. Ever since that day, everything has felt surreal. Until the hunt, Titus really had been doing well in acting like a normal boyfriend. You had been finding yourself enjoying being around him, liking seeing his soft and human side. He seemed to be slowly learning to listen and have some semblance of control. The hunt totally erased that, though. And seeing how willing and able you were to kill people sort of ruined the illusion that things could be normal. You hate how you felt when Titus beamed at you for strangling his sister. You didn’t like how good his praise felt for doing something so heinous. 

“Two options, pretty girl,” Titus reappears, pulling you out of your thoughts. “We can do a little leash situation or handcuffs. I’ll let you decide.”

You roll your eyes and scoff. “Can’t you just leave me alone?” 

Titus frowns slightly, “Can’t you just not be a bitch?” 

“Jesus Christ, shut the fuck up,” you say. It’s so hard to not fall victim to his pushing. He’s so good at being annoyingly bratty. 

“Such foul things for such a pretty mouth,” he says as he positions himself in front of you. “Which will it be?” 

“Go fuck yourself, freak,” you mumble. Titus grips your chin with his hand, angling your head up to look at him. 

“I am trying to be understanding, but you’re making it very hard. I think we’ll put off the ritual for a day every time you disobey. As you heard from the Lawyer, until then, you carry the same rights as a standard dog, Mrs. Danforth. And, I think dogs should be properly contained, don’t you?” His smirk returns as he lets your chin fall and he snaps something around your neck.

“Titus, what the fuck?” Your hands immediately try to pry it off, but you can’t seem to find a latch. 

“Uh uh uh,” he chastises, holding onto your hands. “Just be grateful I don’t make you crawl. For now, at least.” He clips what looks to be an actual dog leash to the collar and tugs on it.

“You dick, I’m not some sort of animal,” you pull back on the leash, trying to give yourself some slack. 

“That’s not what the Lawyer said, was it?” He’s taunting you, and you despise the fact you know he is and that it still enrages you.

“I wish they would’ve killed you,” you say through gritted teeth, still trying to fight against his pull. He abruptly picks you up, causing you to drop the towel. Within seconds, he has you bent over his knees and the leash secured under his foot. Your head is forced downward while you’re completely exposed. 

“I think it’s time you showed me a little gratitude, yeah? I killed for you, I spent hours training you, and all you have to say are hurtful things,” he rubs at your ass, making you squirm.

“Stop,” you mutter, feeling your face flush. His hand smacks down hard, causing you to jolt against him. “Titus!”

“You love me, I know you do. I just wish you’d accept it,” he says as he slaps your ass again, forcing out another yelp. “After all, we have an entirety together.” 

“I don’t want you. I will never want you,” you huff, still squirming against his hold. 

He slaps again, this time hard enough you’re sure his handprint will be left behind. “You’re such a bad liar, princess. I bet you’ve never come harder in your life than you have with me. And I see how you look at me.” 

You feel the heat radiating from where his hand has been landing. “Hate you,” you mumble. 

“Then why are you so wet?” He says as he dips a hand between your legs. “Tell me what you’ve been thinking about.” Instead of responding, you buck up against him. 

“Let me go,” you whine, hating the embarrassment flooding through you. 

“As you wish, Mrs. Danforth,” he says as he lands one final slap across your ass. He swings you upwards, the sudden head rush making you feel woozy. The dizziness makes you grab onto Titus’s arm to steady yourself. He smiles, liking the warmth of your touch.

“Am I allowed to shower now?” you ask. 

“I suppose I’ll permit it,” he replies, getting a final grope of your ass in before standing up, yanking the leash behind him. You gasp as you’re pulled forward, angry by the reminder he has you literally collared. “You go in front,” he says, stopping and making a big show of dramatically waving you on. Biting your tongue, you go ahead. He sighs happily, taking in his handprints on your perfect ass. 

He still isn’t quite sure this is all real. He’d never admit it out loud, but he keeps waiting to wake up from a dream. In his lifetime, natural or unnatural, he never saw himself finding a real wife. Not only did he genuinely enjoy his fun little games, but he wouldn’t have guessed himself capable of feeling the mixture of feelings he does when he sees you. Nothing in the entire world would be able to separate him from you now, especially as you now are afforded the same protections he is. He makes a promise to himself to try not to push you too hard, at least not in the beginning. He hopes, and knows that with infinite time, you’ll warm up to him.

With a shriek, you feel a strong hand clamp over your mouth and another around your waist. You curse yourself for letting someone sneak up on you, but you’re so exhausted from the running and just generally surviving. 

“Hey pretty girl,” the voice gruffly whispers in your ear. “Why don’t you drop that little knife right now?” You know it's in your best interest to stay silent, not wanting to attract anyone else to the area. Regretting it before it even happens, you slowly let the knife fall to the ground. “Good girl,” the man says condescendingly. “I know you don’t know me, so I’m sorry we’re meeting under these terms. And I’m sorry you have to pay for Titus.”

You jerk your head back, trying to get a good look at the man. What does he mean to pay for Titus? He tightens his grip and continues. “He practically tortured my wife in front of me. After he forced her to get him off.” You start to squirm in his grip, not fully believing Titus could be that twisted. “I will try to make your death quick; I am exceptionally sorry for your sake. I’m going to let you go now, okay? Don’t try to run, I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I have to.” With that, he lets his hand fall from your mouth, but grips your wrist tightly. 

“Titus wouldn’t...” you start to say, but deep down you can tell the man isn’t lying. 

“He is fucked up beyond belief. That’s why there was so much interest in this hunt. Everyone wants to hurt him, but he’s never taken an interest in somebody other than himself,” he starts to pull you. 

You refuse to move. “Please, I don’t want to die. I didn’t know,” you say, but it sounds like a lie. You knew Titus was evil, but you didn’t know he was that deranged, to be fair. 

“Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be,” he warns, looking back at you. You continue to stare at him, still refusing to take a step. He sighs as he punches you hard in the stomach. It knocks all the wind out of your lungs, causing you to double over. The man takes the opportunity to lift you with ease, throwing you over his shoulder. “I’m a good fuck, I’ll make sure it isn’t all bad.” He adds, and the worst part is he sounds sincere, like he really is doing you a favor. 

“I have her!” He suddenly yells out, shocking you into action. You kick wildly, but his grip doesn’t loosen. “I have the bitch!” he yells again, and you hear the shouts coming from nearly every direction. 

Without warning, he slams you into the ground, causing your head to explode in pain. You curl up instinctively, feeling dizzy and confused. Looking to your side, you see two more men approaching, clearly celebrating your capture. 

“Again, all my apologies,” the man says as he leans down and wraps his hands around your throat. You whither on the ground, but he doesn’t budge. Your vision starts to fade as you look around wildly, hoping Titus comes. You want- no, you need Titus, you think as your world fades to black. 

Ursula is amongst the last to arrive. There are just 5 family members left, not counting her or Titus: the man who caught you, the two who are already here, and two other women. She can’t believe someone else got to be the one to capture you, but regardless, she’s looking forward to the next part. She cockily explains how she sedated Titus, ensuring they had the time to properly prepare to get back at him. They don’t know it yet, but she plans on letting Titus have one last chance at saving you. 

When she leads them back to where he’s lying, she purposely ties his hands looser than she should. She wants him to have a false sense of hope that he can save you. And she wants you to see how brutal he truly is in your final moments. Most of all, she hopes you use your last words to condemn him. She knows that’ll be enough to kill whatever little sliver of higher aspirations he has, which would ensure her and her alone the High Seat. 

The man drops you unceremoniously by Titus’s feet before tearing at your clothes. He wastes no time stripping you down, leaving you completely naked. Ursula injects something into Titus’s neck, causing him to stir slightly before jolting awake. He immediately takes in the sight in front of him and locks onto your naked and limp body. The three men stare down at him with pure contempt. The two women stand off to the side, but watch with some sort of mix of fear and disgust, yet noticeable interest. 

“Don’t worry, she’s not dead yet. We wouldn’t want you both to miss all the fun,” Ursula smiles, kicking her heeled foot hard into your stomach. Your eyes snap open as you roll onto your side and gasp for air. “Who should go first, Titus?” She motions to the men. You absentmindedly realize you're naked, but your heart flutters at the sight of Titus. 

“Titus,” you say in between wheezes, more or less crawling up to him. “We need to go.”

He grits his teeth and pulls hard at the ropes, not making much progress. “Let me go now, Ursula and I won’t kill you.” 

“Always so angry and threatening, Titus. It isn’t very becoming,” she says through a girlish giggle, clearly getting enjoyment out of the situation. She points to one of the men and nods. “Since he doesn’t want to pick, I say we let the captor go first.” 

You’re lying across Titus’s legs now, pawing at his hips. Your head is in his lap; the slam still has you feeling as though you’re in a daze. “Titus, please, I’m sorry I didn’t listen better,” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut to try to block the waves of pain. Seeing you like this is physically hurting Titus, but he knows better than to show it. He needs to get free to save you. Never in his life has he wanted something more than he does in this moment, much less something for someone else. 

“You’ll be okay, I’ll handle this,” he whispers back, not wanting to gratify the group with a reaction. He continues to push and pull against the ropes. Although to the cousins, he looks calm and calculating, Ursula knows he’s panicking. Even in your state, you can detect something is wrong. 

The man leans forward, slowly rolling you onto your back as he runs his hands over your body, stopping to palm your boobs, which pulls an audible whine from you. He makes no effort to move you off Titus’s legs, taking some sort of sick pleasure in keeping you so close to him without him being able to rescue you. “Titus, do you even remember my wife? Do you remember what you did?”

“Don’t do this. You’ll regret it,” he growls, hating seeing his hands touching your body. He lunges forward, but the ropes bite into his wrists. “Untie me now.” 

“You cut her throat while she was on top of me; you laughed as her blood choked me. Then you fucked her as she bled out; you never even let her have a chance,” the man says, and even in your state you can sense the rising anger in his voice.

“Titus, you didn’t do that. Right? You wouldn’t do that?” you ask, trying to crane your head back to look at him. 

He grimaces; somehow he didn’t expect you to hear about the darker side of him. Or maybe he just didn’t want you to, at least not yet. He imagined some sort of idealistic scenario where he could have slowly introduced some of the more…unsavory bits of his personality and history. “Of course not, he’s lying.” He tries to calm his eyes to offer up reassurance, but he just can’t. Between the pure rage and the ever-growing fear of something happening to you, he, for the first time in his life, is losing control.

“Don’t lie to her, Titus; you caused this. You are the reason she is going to die,” the man says as he pushes your legs apart. You weakly let them fall open. The soft smirk on the man’s face and seeing his eyes on you pushes Titus over the edge, and he finally snaps the rope holding his wrists together. Within seconds, he’s on top of the man, compressing his throat. 

“Shut the fuck up. Don’t tell her your made-up stories about me,” he snarls, squeezing as hard as he can. You watch as the man’s eyes bug out, as no one makes a move to stop him. When he finally lets go, the man slumps over. Spinning around, he takes stock of who is left. Ursula, two male cousins, and two female cousins. The two women appear to back up, not wanting to get in the middle of anything physical with Titus. But the men circle Titus like sharks. “Leave now, and I won’t kill you,” he growls. He looks menacing, but inside his head he truly is starting to panic. 

You sit up, trying to find your shirt to slip back on. You don’t like seeing Titus like this; he is scaring you. Even though you’ve done unspeakable things tonight, seeing him so easily kill a man is undeniably horrifying. One of the men abruptly lunges at his legs, but Titus dodges, causing the man to land on the ground. 

“Get him!” Titus calls out, only hoping you not only can, but will. He doesn’t even have time to look as he takes on the other man. You, still fully naked, throw yourself onto the man’s back. Despite it all, some part of you still trusts Titus. What other option do I even have? you think to yourself. Without a weapon, all you can do is wrap your arms around his neck and pull as tight as you can. He flails about wildly, desperate to knock you off his back. 

In the meantime, Titus is dodging and throwing punches at the other man. Taking a few solid hits to his side, he groans. But he knows he’s slowly wearing the man down, whose hits are coming slower and weaker. Reaching for the rope that was around his hands, he moves in to wrap it around his cousin’s neck. Pulling hard, with a sick popping sound, he jerks the man’s neck at an odd angle and lets him fall onto the ground. 

You’re still clinging to the other man’s back; it’s almost like you're riding a bronco. Titus smiles softly, greatly appreciating your will to live. And your ability to listen to him. Focusing solely on making sure you are safe now, he kicks the man hard in the knee, causing him to kneel in the dirt. 

With a slight nod at you, you let go and rub at your hands. Everything has been moving so incredibly quickly; the rush of adrenaline hasn’t let you stop to think about everything you’ve actually seen. With what has to be the most intense and intimidating look you’ve ever seen, Titus stares down at the man who’s groaning in pain. 

“My fucking knee,” he moans.

“Say sorry,” Titus says flatly. “You could have hurt her.” The man looks up at him, incredulous. 

“Are you joking right now? You are a psychopathic monster,” he says, then turns to you, “Those “stories” everyone kept telling you are true. Titus is not who you think he is. If you think tonight has been bad, just wait until-,” With a solid punch to his head, the man grunts.

“Don’t spread those filthy lies about me. Apologize to her. Now.” Titus growls, raising up his hand as if to strike again. You shrink back, looking up at Ursula now, who is still smirking, as if she planned this all along. The man cowers down, refusing to look at Titus, but also not talking. 

“Mmm, looks as though big scary Titus isn’t all that dominant,” Ursula says, egging him on. He hates that it works, but it does. He grabs the man by the hair and practically drags him over to you. 

“Say sorry. Now.” He spits out over the man’s whimpers. The adrenaline must be leaving your body as you start to shake, the reality of everything setting in. 

“Titus,” you mumble. But he’s fully concentrating on proving himself to you, or maybe it's for Ursula now. Yanking the man’s head straight back, you can see the pure terror in his eyes. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, alright?” he says quickly, but it’s not to Titus’s satisfaction, and he pulls back further, snapping the man’s neck. You jump back, horrified. For the first time, you notice the now dried blood splattered on your hands and arms. You really start to think about the fact you’re a murderer just as much as Titus. Continuing to back away, you don’t even know what the plan is anymore. 

“Looks like she doesn’t love you after all,” Ursula says, watching you try to shrink away. You notice the two women are gone, leaving you, Titus, and Ursula standing in a triangle-like formation. “What’s the move now? You know you can’t kill me until after the true wedding.”

As if he is snapped back into reality, Titus turns his attention to you. Despite how scared you look, he loves seeing you covered in blood. He loves knowing you committed your first of many murders. He loves that you have practically survived the test. He wants nothing more in this moment than to take you back to the house and have endless sex. He really wants to say he loves you, and to hear you say it back. But he knows you’re beyond terrified. Anyone with eyes could tell that. However, if you were anyone else at any different moment in his life, he wouldn’t have let that stop him from taking you right here. But he wants you to love him. And he hates how you’re looking at him now. 

With a cruel smile, Ursula watches him, “I don’t know if the world’s best honeymoon could solve all your problems, Titus. You might as well give up now, let me put an end to your silly little attempt at love.” 

He grinds his teeth, wishing he could snap her neck. Without giving it much thought, you rush at her. Feeling the same sense of anger you did with the girl, you let it consume you. Slapping and tearing at her face, you are doing everything in your power to never have to hear her taunting voice again. As much as you don’t want to see Titus ever again, you don’t want to see her more. The suddenness and violence of your attack catches her off guard. She never would have guessed you would attack her for Titus. Nor would Titus have been able to predict it; he is completely blindsided by your move. 

“You stupid bitch, why can’t you see he doesn’t love you? He’s using you,” she shrieks, trying to push you away from her. But you’re relentless and keep trying to get at her throat. “He kidnaps, rapes, and murders women like you for fun,” she continues. As she goes to step back, she loses her footing and lands on her back. Taking the opportunity, you wrap your hands solidly around her throat. 

With a blank smile, you push down hard, this time fully enjoying the look in her eyes. You don’t register anything else around you as you continue to squeeze. Your chest heaves as her pulling at your hands gets weaker and weaker. Until the light leaves her eyes and her hands fall at her side. You still don’t let go. You don’t let go until Titus is practically prying your fingers off one by one. He doesn’t fully understand how you killed her if the High Seat is split between them, but he is appreciative. He thinks to himself to ask the Lawyer about it. 

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, trying to get you to look at him. You clamp down on Ursula’s throat, not wanting to risk her still even having a small chance of being alive. “She’s gone. It’s over.” With crazed eyes, you look up at him, and it’s like the wall you’ve been trying so hard to build up just comes crashing. 

“I fucking hate you; I hate what you made me do. I don’t want to be like you; I need to go get help. I just, I just killed your sister. And I killed your family. I need to go home, I don’t want to be here,” you say as the words keep tumbling out, letting all of your consciousness come out in one long, run-on sentence. Titus lets you speak, looking at you without interrupting. “I only had to marry you because I thought you’d kill me if I said no. I don’t care now though; I want to die.”

“Don’t say that,” is all he says. The fact that that’s all he says enrages you further. 

“What do I have to do for you to let me go? Do you want me to kill you? Do you want me to kill myself?” you scream, frustrated that he never seems to get it. 

“We’re already married. And, by killing my twin sister, you just ended the hunt. You just bonded yourself to this family forever, Mrs. Danforth,” he says evenly, meeting your hard gaze. He has no idea what the next few hours, much less years, will look like, but he is delighted to finally have you as his. 

Reaching out to draw a card from the stack, you silently pray for anything normal. Sitting around you are 15 of the most capable Danforths, all keen to kick off the night. With a deep breath, you finally flip the card over, leaving it face up on the table without looking at it. Instead, you watch Titus’s face and pick up as his mouth pulls into a tight line. Closing your eyes and leaning back on your seat, you know what you drew: hide and seek; a hunt, the hunt. The very thing Titus has been trying to train you for in the “off chance” you’d have to do it. You already knew the outcome long before you drew the card, for the past nearly 50 years, every spouse has had to participate in a hunt.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, and you can sense the nerves behind it. His voice like that alone is enough to make your heart start to race. You don’t open your eyes as you try to mentally remember everything Titus has been trying to drill into you. “I love you, I’ll see you very soon, okay?” Letting yourself glare up at him, you don’t respond. In this moment, you hate him for not only what he has already put you through, but practically giving you a death sentence. Looking around the room, you notice how each person at the table is smiling and watching you with calculating eyes. Your stomach sinks as you realize just how real things are going to become. Desperate to get you to respond, Titus tries again, “I love you, okay?” 

Ignoring him, you stare down at his father. “I have 30 minutes, yes?” Your voice comes out steady; something Titus made you practice over and over again. It impresses those sitting around the table, especially considering they half-expected you to not have any idea what came next. It’s rather hard to convince someone to marry when there’s even a slim chance they may be hunted down mere hours after the ceremony. 

“30 minutes, starting…now,” Father says with a nod. Immediately, the room starts to erupt into quick and crazed whispers, but not wanting to waste any precious time, you stand and walk towards the door. 

“Wait,” Titus says, lunging toward you. Before he can reach you, three of his cousins grab him, but even the three grown men struggle to maintain their grip. 

“Tsk. Tsk. You know the rules, Titus; don’t make us restrain you. That wouldn’t be very sightly for your new wife,” Ursula smirks at him, causing him to thrash harder. It’s the last thing you hear as the door snaps shut behind you and you take off running. 

You know you need to put distance between you and them. Sprinting hard, you run carefully. You purposely avoid any sticks, hoping to not leave a noticeable path. After several minutes, you stop and take stock of what’s around you. Titus hid several potential weapons for you. He made the Lawyer check the bylaws a hundred times over, and nothing said he couldn’t. Noticing the glint of something shiny in the moonlight, you recognize one of his knives stuck partially into a tree. With a hard yank, it comes free. Now armed, you try to steady your breath, not wanting to give yourself away. 

Satisfied it is as quiet as it’s going to get, you slowly start to move, staying hunkered close to the ground. Hearing a snapping of a twig, you jerk around, but it’s too late. One of Titus’s cousins has you knocked onto your back with a hard thud, sending the knife just barely out of your fingers' reach. Fuck, you think, feeling completely trapped. Sitting on your hips, he grins down at you and presses a finger to your lips. You want to bite at him, but you force yourself to lay still.

“Don’t scream, or the others will come, and we don’t want that, do we?” He coos, running his own blade along your chin, causing goosebumps to prick your skin. “So dainty and delicate, it’s such a shame you have to die.” Stretching with everything in you, you still can’t quite reach the knife. Trying another tactic Titus told you would be likely to work on any of his male relatives, you shove your pride down deep and take on the helpless victim role. 

With a small whimper, you look up at the attacker with big eyes. “Please. I can show you a really good time. Please, I don’t want to die; I’ll do anything,” you beg without shame. You need to buy yourself time to get over to the knife. 

“I see what Titus sees, or rather saw in you. I suppose there’s no harm in having a little fun,” he leans down, kissing you directly on the lips. Biting back the rising nausea, you kiss back even harder, making sure your desperation shows. Playing into his ego worked, and the man slowly slides off you, pleased that you’re so willing to have sex with him. With your newfound freedom of movement, you grab the knife and waste no time driving it into his neck. His eyes widen slightly as he wordlessly stares at you before slumping over. You don’t even have time to process that you just killed somebody; a real-life human being, just like you. Instead, the adrenaline forces you to grab your knife and keep running. 13 left, not including Titus, you think to yourself as you stalk off into the night. 

Titus has already slain 3 of his own relatives for you. He has been silently moving through the woods, hoping to find you, but continually running into his own blood. Without even so much as a thought, he killed them as soon as he laid eyes on them. He freezes as he sees a body seemingly lying on the ground, watching just long enough to ensure there’s no movement coming from it. With a sigh of relief, he recognizes one of his cousins, quelling the small but growing fear it was you. A small wave of pride washes over him; he knows you must’ve been the one to kill him. 9 more, he thinks to himself, happy that the odds are getting better so fast. And that you helped bring the number down. 

But the feeling will be short-lived. Ursula has been stalking him, hoping to subdue him in an attempt to make it easier to catch you. She knows better than anyone not to get in between Titus and his things. He is more reactive than a starving dog guarding its food dish. As he bends down to check the body, she shoots one of her arrows, dipped in a strong sedative, into his back. She knows it’s not enough to kill him, not that she wants to kill him, just enough to take him out for about an hour. 

Titus immediately latches onto the arrow and pulls it out of his back. But it’s too late, and the sedative has already been taken into his system enough. Even worse, he knows it’s Urusula’s doing without even seeing her. Only his twin would think to take him out of the race.

She steps forward, confirming it. “Poor baby brother, too busy gloating about a trivial success to see the bigger picture, like always.” He rushes towards her, but his steps are already off balance, and he drunkenly stumbles around. “The next time your eyes open, you’ll be seeing your precious little toy getting ruthlessly destroyed by your own family members. If you ask nicely though, perhaps I’ll let you kiss her goodbye.” 

“You bitch, I’ll kill-,” he mumbles as he lamely lifts his pickaxe, but it instead clashes to the ground.

“I’m sure many of the men here will be eager to repay the favor of what you did with their wives. But I doubt you told her about that, did you?” 

“Don’t touch her,” Titus hisses, wanting to come across as threatening, but unable to even stand. Although he’s fighting it so hard, his eyes slowly come to a close as the sedative takes over and he hits the ground. Satisfied that he'll be out for the rest of the hunt, Ursula practically skips away to look for the real target: you.

You've already seen three bodies, presumably killed by Titus. You know you’re getting close to him; you only hope you find him sooner rather than later. Each body brought you a small surge of hope that maybe you could get out alive. You’re back to creeping through the woods when you see a man crouched down by a tree. As quietly as you can, you move towards him, brandishing your knife up in the air. Wanting to make sure it’s not Titus, you softly whisper, “Hey!” Even though you know you’d never be able to catch him off guard, you really do not want to accidentally kill him. 

The man whips around, locking eyes with you. Before he even has a chance to get anything out, you slice at his throat. The sight of the blood gushing out and the sickening gurgle makes you feel ill. But you know it was between you and him. And you do not want to die. 8 more, you think to yourself, trying desperately to rationalize that you just killed a second man. And this time, it wasn’t technically in self-defense. You caught him off guard and unaware of your presence. Even so, you think back to how Titus made it very clear it was every man for himself. The thought that he would kill you without even hesitating allows you to justify the fact you sort of did like seeing the look of confusion tainted by fear on his face right before you slashed his throat.

Pushing that concerning thought down, you keep moving. You need to find Titus, but you don’t know where to look. By now, you thought he would have found you. Just ahead, you see two bodies slumped over on the ground. Assuming it’s two more kills from him, you creep over to them. With a small gasp, you realize one is Titus. A sinking feeling in your stomach grows rapidly, and you press your fingers to his neck, checking for a pulse. Relieved, you notice he is alive. Curious as to what incapacitated him, you see the small arrow lying next to him. Great, one of his freak family members drugged him, you think to yourself. You find yourself getting mad at Titus. How could he be so careless as to leave you alone out here? And, if one of his family members was able to do this to him, there’s no chance in hell you stood a chance against them. Grabbing his pickaxe, you decide you shouldn’t stay in the clearing. Whoever did this could be lingering nearby, waiting for you to show up. 

If it is possible, you feel yourself more on edge than before you found Titus completely helpless. You had no choice but to leave him there. None of the family members would dare harm him, even if they could. As a High Seat family member, he couldn’t be killed anyway. Even if you didn’t fully believe his ramblings before, you decide to now, even if it’s to make you feel better about your semi-selfish choice. I shouldn’t feel bad; he’s the reason I’m fucking here, you think to yourself, angry you’re finding yourself caring so much for the man who has caused you so much pain and suffering. 

Nonetheless, you know you must continue. There are several more hours until sunrise, when the game will be called off and you’ll be granted Mr. Le Bail’s protection. Looking around, you barely catch a woman silently watching you. She is leaning against a tree, trying to blend in with the background. And she almost does, but Titus’s relentless training made you able to spot her figure. Not sure the best way to continue, you pretend not to notice and keep walking. Until you feel what looks like some sort of hatchet just barely misses your head and lands solidly into a tree. Diving onto the forest floor, you wait for her to jump onto you, but she never does. Realizing she must’ve only had the one hatchet, you jump up and look around for her. She’s running away from you, but tripping over the brush on the ground. Expertly, you give chase and catch up to her with ease. Raising Titus’s pickaxe above your head, with a sharp crack, you catch her in the shoulder as she falls to the ground. She lets out a blood-curdling scream, the pain searing through her body. You grimace, knowing people had to have heard it. 

“Shut up,” you hiss, trying to dislodge the pickaxe from her shoulder. The jerking around of it only causes her to keep screaming. Getting desperate, you slice at her throat with your knife. The blood splatters across your face, hands, and arms. 7 more, you think to yourself, starting to feel relief in the number going down. Giving the pickaxe one final tug, you accept you’re going to have to continue without it. You know you need to put as much distance between her and yourself as possible. Deciding it best to run as fast as possible, you blindly pick a direction and set off. 

Ursula, hearing the screams, knows you must’ve gotten someone else or someone got you. Locking into the direction, she starts running through the forest. Unlike some of her family, she grew up here and knows the terrain well. In no time at all, she’s by the woman. With a cruel smile, she takes in the scene, appreciating that you used Titus’s own weapon of choice against his family member. She’s starting to think she may have underestimated you. Or, rather, underestimated how much time and effort her brother put into ensuring you had the best odds any normal human could have. Sensing someone else stalking up, she draws an arrow and aims. This time she’s ready to kill, not knock out with a sedative. Focusing in on her target to double-check it isn’t you, and seeing what looks to be one of the younger female cousins, she lets the arrow fly. 

It strikes the woman in the chest, but doesn’t kill her, at least not right away. She slouches to the ground with a groan. She feels a touch of remorse for hurting one of her own. But she doesn’t want to take any chances on someone else capturing you. Plus, she reasons, she was so inexperienced she might’ve spooked and hurt me. Unlike Titus, Ursula never took any particular pleasure in killing for a hunt. She found it to be instead a necessary, yet undesirable and messy, task. Not to say she couldn’t kill; she had the same training Titus had, just without the bloodthirsty mindset. 

However, this is very different. She was forced to remain single by Titus’s doing. Nearly all of her potential spouses were personally slain by him. This is her chance to seek revenge, something she has wanted more than anything. In over 50 years, her twin had never taken any interest in a spouse. With him out cold, she is determined to drag you in front of him. More than anything in this world, she wants to see the pain in his eyes as she lets the men in the family do what they want with you. She wants to hear his pleas turn desperate and pathetic as she cuts into you, letting you slowly bleed out in front of him as he is forced to watch helplessly. And even though she was never the favored twin who got every single thing she wanted, what she sets her mind to, she does tend to get. For the past few months, ever since she found out about you, all she has been able to think about is this exact moment.

first, tysm for the kind words, i genuinely love that y’all love reading what i write lol! it’s so motivating and i like knowing fs if there’s specific things you do or don’t like.

alsooo i do plan to return to little patch of heaven at some point. i feel like i wasn’t really happy w how it was going (it didn’t seem pope-ish enough), so i have it on the back burner for now. i don’t know when/how to end to have and to hold, so we’ll see where it ends up i suppose

as for info about me: i’m 21, a woman, have a v longterm bf (like since middle school long), and i’m entering my fourth year of college (yikes). i’m not a creative major, even tho i’d def like to be lol. i’m on a pre-law track and plan on taking a gap year or two before applying to law schools. i enjoy writing creatively, but never really had an outlet for it. i *love* pm all of shawn hatosy’s characters sm (and he’s hella hot, let’s be real). i discovered ao3 because i wanted a fluffy ending to animal kingdom lmao (i was a wattpad girly in hs though) and lovedddd reading the fics smmm i knew i wanted to try writing some of my own lol. i jumped to tumblr because i like the sense of community over here!

in terms of expanding to other fandoms, i don’t really see it rn ngl. i j like picking one actor to obsess over at a time lol. i do love jensen ackles, jake gyllenhaal, jon bernthal, n jeffery dean morgan (can y’all see the pattern 😛) tho, so maybe one day.

i’m super open to requests though and will give pm anything a shot (with someee limits, but no harm in asking fs). i will say, i would never feel comfortable writing about the actual actor, just their characters. (in my opinion, it’s v creepy/predatory to objectify real people). also each of my chapters takes roughly an hour + there’s no beta reader or anything like that. it’s v much a yolo thing lol, so if you ever see silly errors, that’s why.

Surveying the room from the crack in the door, the sea of unfamiliar faces makes you feel sick. You begged Titus to allow your family, even just your parents, to come, but he refused. He did promise you a wedding after everything was said and done; something just for show that you could pick out every single element. The logic makes sense; almost immediately following the wedding, you have to do the hunt. But still, it feels wrong. Regardless, he wouldn’t budge on the topic, so you’re standing alone at the door waiting to walk in. 

Titus is already at the altar. He’s fidgeting slightly with his cufflinks, anxious to get to the real tradition. He wanted to keep the wedding minimal, but Father wouldn’t hear of it. Father said for his son’s first wedding, even if it was to an ‘undesirable outsider,’ he wouldn’t have the Danforth name further disgraced with anything less than a true ceremony. Looking around, it looks like something out of a movie. Everything is white and perfect; to an outsider, this would look like any wealthy person’s wedding. They’d have no idea the horrors that will be taking place in this very space by night. The guests are all Danforths or Danforth family friends, all wearing several figure dresses and tuxedos. Titus can pick out who’s family by the anticipation in their eyes. The same anticipation Titus has felt at any wedding he had to attend. As Ursula so proudly reminded him of his own words earlier, the only true reason most show up to such ‘tacky and time-wasting events.’ 

And only now does he realize how many future spouses he personally has killed. He can’t even begin to recall, but he knows there’s a significant number of people who have been impatiently waiting for the day he found a bride. He didn’t tell you about the personal vendettas many of his cousins hold against him, much less his sister. He couldn’t bring himself to share that he is the monster all of his family has nightmares about when it comes time to marry. He looks down the aisle as the doors open and you walk in.

You take small steps, careful not to trip over your dress. Wanting to avoid eye contact, you stare straight ahead at Titus, who offers you the smallest of smiles. As soon as you pass the doors, you immediately hear excited whispers amongst the wedding guests. You can feel their ravenous eyes on you, sizing you up for tonight. With a hard swallow, you force yourself to continue moving forward. Stepping up to the altar, the Lawyer moves in between you and Titus, starting to read from his official book. Off to the side, you notice a blonde woman in the front row who seems particularly focused on you. You realize that she must be Titus’s twin. She smirks at you and silently moves her hand up to her throat, lightly squeezing. You instantly avert your eyes, focusing back on Titus. Noticing your own anxiety, he takes your hands in his. 

“Titus Danforth, do you take this woman to be your wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward. For better, for worse. For rich, for poorer. In sickness and in health. To love and to cherish. Till death do you part,” the Lawyer reads. 

“I do,” Titus says, reassuringly squeezing your hands. You feel anything but reassured. Maybe this is the wrong choice, you think to yourself, starting to feel panicky. A harder squeeze pulls you out of your thoughts.

“I do,” you say, knowing only a fraction of what you’re signing up for. Titus smiles a real smile now.

“I pronounce you man and wife. Mr. Danforth, you may kiss Mrs. Danforth,” the Lawyer says, stepping back. Titus wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him before kissing you softly. It feels normal. As he pulls away, he’s looking directly into your eyes. 

Whispering so only you can hear, he says, “I love you, Mrs. Danforth. You’ll be okay.” You nervously nod.

“I love you too, Titus,” you quietly reply, the claps and cheers practically drowning you out. You do think you love him, but the lingering threat of tonight is definitely putting a damper on what’s supposed to be the happiest day of your life. Instead of feeling any sense of love or happiness, you just feel a growing dread. 

Regardless, celebrations are in order. Father, once again, insisted on an extravagant afterparty, ‘for image,’ he reasoned. Titus held his tongue, willing to do anything to get his father’s blessing for you. Titus takes your hand and escorts you into a large ballroom, already filled with people milling about. Sitting at a small table, he brings you a plate of food, insisting you eat. And it only makes it harder to keep anything down because you know why he’s so concerned about you eating. You pick at the food on your plate as powerful-looking man after powerful-looking man comes up to congratulate Titus. They ignore you, taking the opportunity to kiss up to any Danforth. Titus waves them off, more or less, not really ever wanting to engage with anyone. But especially not tonight. He does, however, appreciate how they so clearly want to look at you, but are scared to even glance at you. Even the boldest ones keep their remarks about you relatively tame, knowing how possessive and aggressive Titus is. 

Deciding to take a minute to yourself, you tell Titus you’re going to the restroom. “Want me to come with you?” he asks, looking around the room for the people he knows will be gunning for you tonight. 

“I’ll be fine, promise. In and out,” you assure him, heading off to the restroom to hopefully get a moment of silence.

But Ursula spots you leaving Titus’s side and immediately follows. She can’t believe her brother would be so foolish. As you walk into a stall, she casually leans up against the counter. 

“So, you’re the dumb little whore Titus is willing to disgrace his bloodline for?” she says, wishing she could see your face. You nervously swallow, but don’t respond, knowing it must be his sister. She continues, “I assume he told you about the hunt, or did he keep that from you?” 

“I know about it,” you say sharply, trying to calculate how to get out of the bathroom as soon as possible. 

“I am certain you don’t know everything, or you wouldn’t be here tonight. Danforths don’t marry outside the Council for a reason; the average person is much too weak for what we do,” she says. “You know, I’ve been thinking about how much pleasure it’ll bring me to get to be the one to take you away from my little baby brother. Not that he actually loves you; he isn’t capable of love. You’re akin to a child’s favorite play toy, if even that. And, once he gets bored, which he will, he’ll discard you and find a new muse.” 

You are starting to really regret telling Titus you could go alone. “He told me everything,” you retort, but it comes out weak. Even though you don’t know what ‘everything’ could entail. You did sort of assume the human hunting wedding ritual was it, or Titus would’ve told you, right?

Picking up on your uncertainty, Ursula laughs. “You poor pretty thing, he only told you about tonight, didn’t he? He didn’t tell you about what comes after, the things that’d make grown men sob. Maybe you should ask him about that. But then again, you’ll be dead by dawn, so does it really matter?” Satisfied she’s planted significant seeds of doubt, she stalks out, leaving you alone. 

You rub at your eyes and know you shouldn’t believe her. Then again, why would the fucked up shit stop after an especially fucked up wedding? You blindly trusted Titus, and now you realize you might’ve made a grave mistake. Regardless, you know it’s too late to turn back. 

“Sweetheart?” Titus’s voice calls into the bathroom. “Are you okay?” he asks with genuine concern. 

“Yeah, fine, just needed a break,” you reply with a shaky voice. 

“What happened?” He asks. “Unlock the door.”

You slide the door latch and let it swing open. You’re barely holding back tears, promising yourself you won’t make a big scene. You do not want to come across as weak in front of a room of predators. “What’s wrong?” he pushes. 

“Nothing, just nerves, I guess,” you lie, wiping hard at your eyes. You don’t feel there’s any point in bringing up new issues, but you mentally table them, just in case you do survive tonight. “I don’t want to die, Titus,” you say in a small voice.

“You’re not going to die. I will guarantee it. You won’t even get hurt,” he says confidently. Even though, deep down, he is nervous. He’d never say it around you, or anyone else for that matter, but he doesn’t like not being able to control every aspect of tonight. He doesn’t like the slight chance something does happen to you. 

“I don’t know,” you say as the tears start to fall uncontrollably. “I’m scared.”

“I know, darling, I know. But right now you need to be strong. You can’t let my family think you’re weak. And you are strong; think about all I’ve put you through,” he says with a smile as he wipes at your tears. “The average person wouldn’t have made it through almost half a year with me. I know I’m not the easiest to deal with,” he says, hoping to lighten the mood.

It works a little, and you smile through the tears. “You dick, I wish you were just a normal guy.” 

“I don’t know if you’d love me as much, to be honest,” he teases. 

“I think I’d actually love you more if you weren’t in a Satanic cult; that’s a bit of a turnoff.” 

“You love it, don’t lie. We do need to go back out there though. Father wants to have a word with you before…tonight,” Titus does feel genuinely bad that he didn’t disclose everything to you, like the fact that after the hunt, you actually will be forced to join the same cult. Not only that, you genuinely will have to sell your soul to Mr. Le Bail. Which means you have to do all of the things Titus does. He justifies it to himself by the fact that you wouldn’t have been as willing to get married. And you were going to get married eventually because that’s what he wanted. Although likely the true reason is selfish, he has convinced himself he was simply doing you a favor by not telling you the things that await you. 

With a small nod, you adjust your dress and stand up. You know you have mere hours until they make you play their twisted version of hide and seek. But the psychological torture of having to interact with your potential killers leading up to the hunt is horrible. Gritting your teeth as Titus takes your hand, you walk back out into the bustling room, which might appear to the unknowing as a happy celebration of a newlywed couple.

You’re getting flustered and hot, slipping in and out of countless heavy, bulky dresses. “Really, can’t we just pick one and move on?” you say. It’s been a little over a month since Titus has been talking seriously about the wedding and you’ve spent the day making all sorts of preparations. 

Titus tilts his head. “If that’s what you want to do,” he says, looking at the current dress up and down. He insisted on being in the makeshift fitting room with you. Of course, he couldn’t let you go to a normal bridal shop, so he brought them all to you. “How about this one?” He asks. He doesn’t know shit about dresses, but he does think it looks good on you. Of course, everything looks good on you in his eyes.  

It hugs your body so tightly and accentuates each curve. You feel like you can’t breathe with how tight it is, but you noticed all the dresses have been like that. When you complained, Titus simply scoffed and replied he wanted everyone to see what was his. To be fair, I do look really good, you think to yourself as you look over your back into the mirror.

He has been thoroughly enjoying seeing you in such gorgeous gowns. So much so that he has to consciously keep himself off you, knowing that this is about you and not him. He suspects that you wouldn’t be entirely against a quick little fuck, but decides against potentially irritating you. He really wants to tell you so you know how hard he is trying, but just thinking about it makes him feel a little pathetic, so he keeps his mouth shut. You do notice, of course, but don’t want to unnecessarily feed into his already massive ego.

Since you’ve finally taken him seriously, you’ve gotten significantly better at spotting him in the woods and breaking out of his grasp, which makes him feel overall better. Nearly every time you can dodge him, and when he does trap you, you get out. That little peace of mind has allowed him to relax some and slip back into his real personality. However, he is starting to act almost domesticated, in the sense that he isn’t constantly pushing you to a new limit. Thinking about it, he really started to act relatively decent after the incident where you almost choked out a girl. You still wince thinking about that; it really was not your best moment. But you sort of chalked it up to being held hostage and pushed over the edge, and you try not to think too much about it. 

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you do look exceptionally good. Running your hands over the white lace, you nod. “Let’s do this one and be done with it.” You’ve more or less completely accepted your fate, or at least that’s what you tell yourself. And, really, it isn’t even that bad. Titus has made it clear he would do anything for you, and he is capable of doing literally anything. Every once in a while, you feel you have to remind yourself you have to do what he wants. But, deep down, you know it’s starting to become a conscious choice, which you don’t know how you feel about that. Plus, he’s really hot and insane at sex, you think to yourself, so could definitely be worse. 

Titus smiles and goes to get the staff to help take it off, but you grab his hand. With a hopeful look, he turns to see what you need. With a half smirk, you slowly sink to your knees, dragging your hands teasingly down his legs. “I suppose you have been good enough,” you tug lightly at his belt. You’ve noticed if you surprise him by initiating sex, he is suddenly able to listen better in other realms. And, it’s nice to get to taunt and tease him for a change. 

“What about the dress?” He questions, but you can tell by the look in his eyes he could not care less about it. He simply is asking because he thinks you'll care.

“I thought you were rich; can’t you replace it?” You tease, looking up at him. He has slowly started to enjoy when you taunt him, but he always has to get the final word; something in him physically will not allow it to go otherwise.

“Bend over the bench,” he commands. It is so incredibly easy for him to slip into the dominating role embraces so well. He bites down on his lip as he frees his cock, slowly rubbing his hand along it. Even though, he was already hard from the moment you started trying on dresses.

Deciding to taunt a little more, you shake your head no. “I don’t want to.”

You swear his eyes darken at the sound of your voice telling him no. Like every time before this, it drives him crazy. And you relish the fact that you’re the only person in the entire world who can tell Titus Danforth no and live. “Are you going to make me ruin your pretty little wedding dress?” he says, lunging forward. You dodge his grasp, but just barely. The long train of the dress catches your feet, and you trip, falling into him. “Mmm, look at you, trying to use my own skills against me, that’s cute.” He grabs you, this time holding onto your waist.

You shriek in surprise and fight against him. Even though you’re right where you want to be. Despite what he’s taught you, if he actually wants to get you, he can, every single time. Grabbing your hands with one of his, he roughly pulls up the skirt of the dress and pulls your underwear down. 

“Don’t you know it’s bad luck for the groom to see his wife in her dress before the wedding, sweetheart?” He murmurs, sitting down on the bench and pulling you so your legs are around his waist, your head resting on the floor. “Are you trying to jinx us, pretty girl?” 

You can’t help but let a little giggle out as you squirm around, trying to free yourself. “Titus, watch out for the dress, actually,” you whine.

“Mmm, you should’ve thought of that before being a tease. And it looks like you’re already getting it dirty. Maybe you should wear this one for the wedding; it can help remind you of what I’m going to do to you for the rest of eternity,” he says, and with that, he lifts you up into the air by the waist and slams you down on his dick. The sudden fullness causes you to groan, wrapping your arms around his neck. Almost immediately, you start to slowly roll your hips, the feeling quickly becoming pleasurable. 

Titus stares up at you and lets you use him. He still struggles with the fact he practically has a wife. A wife who, even though sometimes might say she hates him, more or less is choosing to live with him. One who would kill for him. One who is willingly riding him right now in her future wedding dress. He groans a little as you lean forward, moaning his name in his ear and snapping him out of his train of thought. “You’re so ethereal,” he whispers. Unable to stop himself, he grabs you and flips you over the bench.

“Titus!” you shriek, hearing the dress rip. 

“I will replace it,” he coos before thrusting in at a punishing rate, completely different from the slow pace you were setting. The sounds coming from the room make the staff outside cringe. But, Titus doesn’t think twice about it, he's already nearly there. “So close,” he grunts. You feel a familiar feeling building in your core, and with one last slam, you peak at the same time. “Fuck,” he groans, as he feels you milking him. He stays like for a few minutes, taking in the feeling and the look on your face before carefully sliding out and laying you flat on the floor. 

“I love you, Titus,” you say breathlessly. With confidence you can now say you love the sex, but loving him is still debatable most days. But it’s starting to get harder and harder to deny you do have some semblance of feelings for him, even on the worst days.

“I love you too, forever and always,” he says, offering you a hand. “And in just 14 days, we’ll be bound together forever.” The thought alone makes his cock twitch, eager to start eternity forever with you. One in which no matter what he does or says, you can never leave him. More than that, he genuinely is excited to see you fit into your new role as Mrs. Danforth. To really tap into a dark side he knows you’ve never let take over before.

He now knows you have the same ruthless, possessive attitude he has; you’re just a little bit better at hiding it. He didn’t think it was possible to love you any more than he already did until you almost killed a girl because you thought he slept with her. It was then he knew you did love him, even if you didn’t know it yet. Or, more likely, he reasoned, you just refused to accept it.

You groan as he pulls you up, feeling his cum slowly drip out of you and onto the dress. “Is this the last thing we need to do?” you pant out. 

“Believe so,” he says with a smile, gently turning you around so he can slip you out of the dress. As he undoes the zipper, he kisses your neck, “I am excited for you to become the Mrs. Danforth.”

“I suppose,” you say, and more of you than you’d like to admit is excited. He’s told you numerous events you’d get to host, like charity galas and university talks. He also promised to let you visit your family, and even your friends,  as soon as the wedding was finalized. Although maybe naive, you truly believe the wedding is a shot at normalcy. You have no clue still of all the things that will be expected of you when you become a Danforth. And Titus purposefully left out the dark, twisted, and Satanic things you will soon have to do.

Your body hits the forest floor with a thud. This time, Titus slammed into your legs, forcing all the air out as you landed straight flat on your back. Gasping for air, he simply clicks his tongue. 

“You should’ve seen that one coming. How did you not see me?” He asks with growing irritation, looking down at you. Ever since the talk with the Lawyer, the past two weeks have consisted almost exclusively of Titus’s so-called training. What that really looks like is him making you walk through the woods so he can ambush you from all different angles. You’ve never been more sore in your entire life; the constant slamming into the ground paired with rough sex is exhausting. 

“Fuck if I know,” you huff, sitting up and rubbing at your back.

“You need to know. Because in a few weeks, you’ll be doing this for real. Get up, let’s try again,” he says, starting to walk back off into the brush.

“Titus, I’m so sore and tired. Can we just stop?” you whine, not moving from your spot on the ground. 

“I said get up,” he repeats, the anger starting to rise, despite his attempts to hold it together. He’s been training for things like this his entire life and genuinely cannot comprehend how you can be so bad at it. It’s like she doesn’t want to live, he thinks to himself. 

Ignoring him, you continue to rub at your sore body, wincing slightly as you run your hands down your legs. You don’t get how this is doing anything; you never see him until it’s too late and you can’t defend yourself against him ever. “I can’t,” you snap, unable to keep the irritation pent up any longer. 

“Do you want to die? Do you want to be tortured to death?” he asks, stalking over to you and roughly grabbing your arm. “Do you want my cousins to enjoy raping you? Do you want my sister to make me watch you bleed out?” His eyebrows are furrowed, and his grip bites into your arm as he forces you to stand. “We stop when you are capable of doing it,” he spits out as he storms off into the woods. 

“Fucking psychopath, Jesus Christ, I don’t want to fucking do this,” you mumble under your breath, but start to slow jog anyway. The threats of what happens do not affect you anymore; you’ve heard them so many times you've become numb to it. You try as hard as you can to place where he’s going to pop up. You haven’t been successful a single time yet, but you need a break. Suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, you see him slouched down and ready to pounce. As he lunges, you side step, just barely missing him. 

He alone hits the dirt hard, but almost instantly springs back up with a wild smile. “See, I knew you could do it. You just need to focus.” You glare at him, still pissed for all the times he did get you on the ground. “You’re the only person in the world who would be mad at me for saving your life, you know that, right?” 

“I am in this because of you,” you fire back.

He sighs, wishing you would have been excited that you finally did it correctly. “I don’t think I have to remind you of the alternative, do I?” 

Rolling your eyes, you turn to walk back to the house, not really wanting to interact with him further. He catches up to you and presses himself against you, letting you feel how hard he is. Still grinning, he whispers into your ear, “Maybe we could do it right here? For old times' sake?”

You scoff, “Titus, I am tired.” You shake off his hands and keep walking. He feels his eye twitch, and it takes everything in him to not slam you into the ground. He doesn’t like being told no, but he’s been trying very hard to respect your wishes a bit more, especially recently. He feels bad about what you’ve been going through, but he still can’t fully grasp why you have to take everything out on him. No one in your entire life would ever be able to offer what he is going to give to you. And, yeah, he knows the hunt sounds scary, but he’s going to ensure no one touches you.

Deciding he can’t let it go without at least one little quip, he snarks, “I suppose I’ll have to seek out a housemaid today, since you want to be so moody.” He knows he never would sleep with another woman; he only wants you. However, he knows you have too much empathy to let him violate one of the staff. And you hate being called moody; he learned that pretty quick. Who would’ve guessed, he thought when he made a ‘joke’ about you being hormonal, which led to you refusing to cuddle with him. 

Not falling for it, “You’re too obsessive to even think about fucking anyone else,” you say, continuing to walk towards the house. You know you’re pushing him, but you also know he’s pushed you so much it’s only fair. To your credit, you’ve noticed he has gotten better at listening in the past few weeks. It’s almost like you’re slowly starting to instill basic manners and tame down the psychopathy that runs wild. 

He cockily says, “How do you know?” 

“Because.”

“Because what?” He’s caught up to you now and is walking beside you. 

“It’s how you are. But, if you have to get off with someone else, so be it,” you huff. Thinking about Titus sleeping with someone else makes your stomach feel weird. And angry, like really angry. You are beginning to think of him as your fiancé, and you don’t want to imagine his hands or mouth or dick in anyone. If he’s going to put you through hell, the least he can do is be exclusive. 

“Really?” He says, raising an eyebrow like he already knows you’re bluffing. 

“Go for it,” you respond, opening up the door to the house. 

“So you really would mind me making another girl cum? Licking at her clit as I do yours?” He says, but you stay silent. “Or what about slamming my dick deep down inside her? Having her kiss me until I cum.”

You feel the heat rising across your face. You don’t like the idea of it all, but you don’t feel that Titus needs to know that. You shrug, stepping into the elevator to go up to your room. Holding the door close button, it snaps shut before Titus can even respond. Satisfied with yourself, you lock your door, a recent luxury Titus gave you after assuring you he could just break down the door if you “tried anything,” and climb into bed. 

Titus is left standing downstairs, a mix of shocked and disappointed at your reaction. With a little bit of a smirk, he has a way to prove to you once and for all that you do like him. And to see what you’re actually capable of when provoked. He dips into the kitchen, surveying the room of staff. 

“You, come with me,” he points to a younger-looking girl. She’s pretty, but Titus feels no attraction. His obsession is strictly you now. He doesn’t even want to fuck her. She looks terrified, and rightfully so; she almost definitely has been told countless horrible, graphic stories about him. With a hard swallow, she steps forward; Titus grabs her by the shoulder and practically drags her into the elevator. 

“What’s your name?” He asks gruffly, looking at her. 

She visibly shakes, certain he’s going to kill her. “Um, Gemma. I-If I made a mistake, I-I swear it won’t happen again,” she offers up, refusing to look at him. 

He smirks; before, he would’ve loved nothing more than to have his way with her. He really has to push hard to get you to look at him the way she’s looking now. “You didn’t, Gemma. I need your help though, okay? Just do as I say, and you can go back to work.”

She doesn’t respond, and as the elevator doors open, he yanks her into his room. “Get on the bed,” he says. Her eyes widen, and she opens her mouth, probably to offer some half-thought ramble. “I’m not going to touch you, relax,” he adds, wishing she’d just act normally. You would never act so foolish, he finds himself thinking. Which is odd, because he used to thrive on seeing people cower down for him. He used to crave the terrified looks, but now he just finds himself getting irritated. Hearing this, she finally sits on the edge of the bed, still refusing to make eye contact. 

He locks the door and sits down next to her. “I need you to moan,” he says. The confusion spread over the girl’s face. “And scream, but for now, just moan,” he commands, looking at her. 

“M-moan?” She asks, and her hesitancy is starting to really annoy him. 

“Yes. Do it, or I will make you do it,” he bluffs, but she has no way of knowing that he’s lying. So, she does it. 

“Louder,” he instructs, hoping you’ll hear soon. She moans again, and you do hear. 

Sitting up, you think you might’ve misheard, so you listen carefully. 

“Mmm, you’re so tight,” Titus practically yells. The poor girl is so confused, but knows not to question him and is grateful this is all Titus wanted. Whispering, he says, “Now scream my name, make it sound real.” 

“F-fuck T-Titus,” she screams on command. You can’t believe the bastard is actually fucking someone else. In your bed. The fact you think of it as your room doesn’t even occur to you. All you see is red, all this talk of marriage, after what he dragged you into, and he’s sleeping with someone else. You unlock your door and go to his, trying it; you immediately realize it’s locked. Titus keeps egging the girl on, and her moans mixed with his grunts are driving you truly mad. 

“Unlock the door, you dick,” you shout, slamming into it with your full body weight.

The girl’s eyes widen, not believing someone would ever talk to Titus that way. If she can talk to him like that, she really would hate to be on the wrong side of you. Softly, Titus tells her to take her clothes off. She freezes, so he practically rips them off her. “Keep making the noises,” he growls, and she does. He gets off the bed now and unlocks the door. Instantly, you shove him in a pure rage, grabbing at his face, genuinely wanting to hurt him. You scratch up his arms, letting the rage take over.

He easily fends you off, holding you back with a single arm. “I told you I’d find somebody else, princess. I think she might even be tighter than you. And she was so grateful for my dick, weren’t you darling?” Now he turns to look at her, and she’s shaking her head vigorously. 

Focusing in on her, you feel pure rage. You cannot believe the audacity of her to be naked in your bed, fucking Titus. You know you can’t hurt Titus, but maybe you can hurt her. It doesn’t even cross your mind that’s what Titus wants. Lunging, you grab at her throat. She doesn’t have time to process, neither do you really. You let out a guttural, animalistic scream, squeezing down and cutting off her air. She gasps, and the tears in her eyes start to spill over. She weakly tries to pull your arm up, but can’t. The pure rage keeps you squeezing at her throat. You don’t even process that you’re enjoying seeing the life drain from her eyes, knowing Titus will never have her again.  

Titus watches with a smirk; he knew you were capable of this. He just needed to get you angry enough to see it. Suddenly you realize what you’re doing and yank your hand back, but the girl isn’t moving. “Oh my God,” you whisper. “Oh, my God.”

“You know, we didn’t even fuck. I didn’t even touch her, actually,” he says cockily. You shake the girl by the shoulders, praying she wakes up. Starting to cry, you shake hard, and her eyes flutter open. 

“Oh thank God,” you let out a breath of relief. You don’t know what happened, much less what to say to the girl. You just sit there, in disbelief that you almost killed someone. Someone who didn’t even deserve it. 

“You may go,” Titus says to the girl, who doesn’t even bother getting dressed, but grabs the blanket and runs out. Sitting down next to you, he slides his arm around you. You’re still in shock, not fully able to process what you just almost did. “She’s going to be fine,” he says as he wipes away your tears. 

“I almost killed her,” you whisper. 

“I knew you had a little bit of a possessive side; it just needed some help coming out,” he says as if everything you did was normal. 

“I actually almost killed someone,” you say again. 

“And you looked really fucking hot doing it,” he says, moving your hand to his dick and rutting softly against it. 

You yank your hand back, turning on him now, “I can’t believe you made me do that.” 

“Mmm, I didn’t make you do anything. That was all you,” he smirks.

“No, I would never do that,” you say softly, but even as you say it, you know he didn’t make you do anything. 

“I told you you had some killer in you,” he says, grabbing back at your hand. “Why don’t I help you take your mind off it, hm?” 

“Titus, what the fuck??” You feel a lump in your throat and the furthest thing from horny.

“Truly, it isn’t that big of a deal, sweetheart. You barely knocked her out. You made this happen; you hurt her,” he softly coos, enjoying the range of emotions on your face. “You’re just like me.”

“I am not, I would not,” you stammer out, but the realization hits you. You did just choke a girl out because you thought she was having sex with Titus. A man you supposedly hate. Yet, you were willing to kill someone for him. 

“You did, baby. But, it’s okay, I found it really hot,” he says, kissing at your neck. You don’t move; you really cannot believe yourself. His hands slip under your shirt and grope at your boobs. “I can’t wait to see you in the hunt,” he says, sliding your shirt off. You let him without protest. Maybe you are evil. Maybe you do deserve all of what’s happened to you, you think to yourself. Noticing you haven’t moved, Titus scoffs. “You didn’t even kill her.” 

“I could have,” you say. 

“And you didn’t.”

“But what if-,” he cuts you off.

“How did you like that little kick of power and adrenaline?” he asks, surprising you with the question. 

You hesitate; you did like feeling in power for once. You haven’t felt strong like that since way before Titus kidnapped you. “I didn’t,” you say, not wanting to dive into those feelings.

“Really? You didn’t enjoy knowing you were hurting me?” he asks, as if he read your mind. “I saw your face, you liked it, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“I didn’t want to kill her,” you say softly, and you really believe it. You were just angry, and you took it out on her. I sound just fucking like him, you realize with horror. 

“Mm, you are like me, aren’t you?” he says, resuming his kissing after seeing the look on your face and knowing that’s what you’re thinking. “How about, I make you cum so you can associate even more pleasure with your newfound hobby?” he teases. 

“Titus, I don’t want-,” you start to say, but he cuts you off as he pushes you onto your back. 

“Well, I want. And that’s all that matters in the end, isn’t it?” He smirks, sort of craving that scared look he pulled out from the waitstaff. You protest, but he pins you down. “You’ll get used to it soon, I promise,” he whispers in your ear as he tugs down your shorts. 

You grimace, hating how conflicted you are right now. You know you would never hurt someone intentionally, right? It was just the combination of everything, you think to yourself, desperate to establish the differences between you and Titus. 

“You can justify it however you need to, sweetheart; I’m very excited to see you in action.” he bites his lip and moves down in between your legs, holding you steady with his hands on your thighs. 

“You fucking asshole,” you hiss. 

“You want me to fuck your asshole?” He says, “You’re just full of surprises today. As fun as that sounds, I’d much rather reward you for your good behavior,” he coos as he takes your clit into his mouth. 

“I don’t want this,” you say, barely suppressing a moan. You really need time to think about that poor girl and what you just did. Ignoring, Titus sucks harder, finally getting you to release the moan. You hate how wet you’re getting. Sliding up beside you, Titus slips his fingers in and works them in and out quickly. With a cruel smile, he grips your throat with his other hand. 

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as being into choking,” he says, just barely pushing down. His fingers are making quick work of you. After several months, he knows exactly how to get you where he wants you. And apparently, he knows how to get you to do things you’d never do. “I want you to think about that feeling you felt hurting me, hurting that girl, okay?” He says, and despite your desire, you cum hard from his fingers while unintentionally thinking about how scared she looked. You breath hitches as you desperately try to think about anything else. The waves of pleasure make it so hard to focus, just as Titus intended.

“Maybe I can ‘Pavolo dog’ you into liking it,” he whispers, kissing the side of your face. You just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to think about what you just learned about yourself. You wouldn’t hurt someone; Titus just made you attack her, right?

A shorter man is holding a thick book in the main room when you both walk in. He smiles and greets Titus, “Mr. Danforth.” 

Titus nods in acknowledgment, motioning for him to sit at the table. You go to pull a chair out, but feel his hand on your wrist, pulling it off. Without looking at you, he slides the chair out and waits for you to sit down. In any other context, it’d be sweet, but it just makes you more irritated. Defiantly, you refuse to look at him and yank out another chair and sit down. You feel his eyes burning into you and you wonder how you'll pay for this stunt later.

“So, I know you have some questions. What is it you’re looking for?” The man asks, flipping open his book.

“The bylaws about marriage, I want to know if there’s any loopholes about getting out of the game,” Titus asks, still glaring at you. 

“We have discussed this, Mr. Danforth. Mr. Le Bail requires your future spouse to participate in a hunt,” he says. So Titus has talked to this little weirdo about us getting married before, you think to yourself. 

“And if we don’t get married?” Titus asks, finally looking at the Lawyer. 

“You have a timeline of 6 years from your first sexual encounter. After that…well, Mr. Le Bail isn’t a fan of waiting,” You don’t even have words for what you’re hearing, much less do you believe anything they’re saying. 

“And that means?” Titus pries. 

“If you were to engage sexually after those 6 years unmarried, Mr. Le Bail will end the relationship for you,” he says. 

“So she dies?” 

“Yes, that is my understanding,” he replies, as if it’s a completely normal thing to be saying. 

“I thought God was the uptight one,” Titus huffs, clearly getting irritated. “What about the hunt?” 

“What about it, Mr. Danforth?” 

“Can I work with her?” 

“There are no rules about killing a family member, if that’s what you mean. But, you may not start the game with her. She needs to be placed in the woods alone. If you try to violate that rule, you both will die.” 

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” You say, you’ve had enough of listening to them go back and forth about your life so casually. 

The Lawyer looks at Titus to see if he’s going to answer, before he answers, “The Danforths must follow the High Council rules of marriage. Unfortunately, it is much more difficult to marry into one of the elite families, as Mr. Le Bail wants to ensure you’re of the right quality to continue his contract.” 

You can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous he sounds. “Oh, so you’re all like eugenicists? You’re worried I might not be good enough to breed?” You practically spit the last word out at Titus. 

He swallows hard, “Be quiet, we’ll talk about this later.” You whip your head to look at him and notice he’s clenching his jaw. Turning back to the lawyer, “So, my family. I can kill them before the wedding?” 

“What the fuck, Titus??” Great, the psycho is going to off his own family for some sick make-believe idea, you think to yourself. You really don’t want to be responsible for people dying. 

“I said be quiet, or you can wait outside,” he says, looking directly at you. The look on his face lets you know he is being 100% serious, and you feel a wave of fear hit you. “So, can I?”

“You can, Mr. Danforth. However, if you were to kill your Father, it would trigger a much larger hunt with all the families, as the High Seat would be unclaimed,” he says as he glances down at the book, as if confirming what he said was true. 

You grind your teeth, wanting to say more, but noticing how stressed Titus looks, you decide not to push. Titus doesn’t just look stressed; he is stressed. And it’s relatively new emotion for him. He’s always gotten everything he’s wanted, when he’s wanted, and how he’s wanted. He's not used to being told no, especially over something he wants as bad as you. “I can help her prepare though, yes?” he asks, leaning forward slightly.

“Yes. There’s absolutely nothing about that,” the Lawyer affirms. 

“There’s really no hidden loopholes where we can elope or anything?” Titus asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“I’m afraid not,” the Lawyer responds as he looks down at his watch. “Will that be all, Mr. Danforth?”

Titus nods, and the man scurries out, taking his oversized book with him. You watch Titus, specifically how tense he is. You can practically feel the anger radiating off him. 

“Do you understand now why this is important?" Titus asks, looking at you as he stands to pace around the room. 

“You really believe in the whole Satan thing?” You ask, incredulous that he really isn’t just fucking with you. 

Titus shuts his eyes, trying to find the patience within him to not snap at you. He knows you’ve been through a lot, but Jesus. It’s your damn life on the line, and you don’t even have the slightest clue to just how fucked up things are going to get. “I can promise you, everything he said is the truth. I really, really need you to grasp that now, please.” 

You don’t like how calm he’s being; it really doesn’t seem like an act. The, unfortunately very familiar, feeling of dread starts to build in your stomach. “Am I going to die, Titus?” you ask. It almost physically pains him to hear you like that, asking something like that.

He walks over to you and kneels next to you. This only increases the bad feeling taking you over, because he’s never acted like this. He takes your hands in his and looks up at you. “I am sorry about this, I really am.” For the first time, you really take in his face, the wrinkles and the hardness, built up from years of whatever it is he’s done. But now, he almost looks pitiful. “But, if you don’t listen, you will die, and I won’t be able to protect you. Do you understand?”

You nod softly, not liking this oddly sensitive version of him. Maybe, under other circumstances you would, but he’s honestly scaring the shit out of you right now. 

“I promise I will help you; I will kill them. You just need to pick a spot to meet with me, to hide, okay?” Practically all the scary hardness of Titus has melted away. It’s hard to feel threatened when he’s literally on his knees, practically begging you to let him kill his own family. 

“Titus, I don’t know about all of this…” You say slowly, still trying to process everything you just learned. 

“You don’t need to, I know. I need you to listen,” he says, still holding your hands in his. 

“And if I don’t?” you ask.

“You die. And I really don’t want you to die,” he says, as if it would hurt him more than you. 

Deciding to try to play into this version of Titus, you nod and practically whisper, “Okay.” You half-believe him, but you also just want this moment be over, holding on to some belief it is some sort of scare tactic. He smiles now as he feels a significant weight being lifted off his shoulders. 

“I knew you’d be good. And, who knows, you might enjoy the rush of a good kill,” he says, and you see the normal Titus coming back. He wants you to enjoy killing as much as he does; he really cannot think of a better date night. 

“I’m not a murderer,” you reply. 

“Mmm, but you might be. I know you’re more like me than you’d like to admit,” he says, and you see the hunger come back in his eyes. “Maybe I’ll let you be the one to end my sister. I think I’d like that very much.” He roams his hands under his jacket you’re wearing, practically clawing at you. 

“Titus, I don’t want-,” he cuts you off with a kiss as he tries to force his tongue inside your mouth. It feels so wrong that he so clearly is turned on at the thought of you killing his sister. 

Pulling away, he gruffly whispers, “You did so good today; I suppose you deserve a reward. And I know you like hearing about how far I take things for you, don’t you?” You let out a soft moan as he pinches your nipples. “If I had to guess, I’d say you're soaked again, aren’t you?”

You blush, embarrassed that he can read you so well and that you are. You have such conflicting feelings about how horny he makes you, even when he’s talking about murdering people. Especially when he’s talking about killing people.  But it’s always for you, and that sort of dominance and possessiveness is really fucking hot. Never in your life have you had anyone willing to kill for you. 

And Titus knows it; he relishes in the idea that you want to hate him so bad, but you can’t. He loves knowing how hard you fight to not be turned on by him. Most of all, he loves that you lose that fight every single time. He grips your thighs, pushing them apart and, wasting no time, lowers his face. 

You squirm, but his hands force your legs to stay open. “So. fucking. wet,” he says, in between licks of your folds. He laps at your clit, enjoying the sweet sounds you're making. Especially considering under an hour ago you would’ve done anything to kill him. He slides two fingers in with no resistance and works them upwards. He keeps pushing until he hears you moan loudly and feels your pussy clench around them.

“So needy for me, aren’t you, little slut? Even when your life is in danger, all you can think about is getting off. How pathetic,” he coos, pulling away from your clit, but replacing it with his thumb. He loves watching your face contort in pleasure as you hit your peak. You throw your head back and practically clamp your thighs around his hands that are now working your body expertly. "And, for future reference, I can't wait to breed you. You alone will be creating the next generation of Danforths," he smirks, never really having even thought about kids seriously in his lifetime. But, there's something about the idea of you carrying his child, like an ultimate claim, that he does like.

You, although partially grossed out at yourself, find the idea hot. “F-fuck,” you whisper as your orgasm hits you. Titus pulls himself up, bending over to kiss you.

“My hand is all dirty now. Maybe you should clean up your mess?” He says, always having to test you. The day has taken all the fight out of you, so you decide to give in. Or, at least that’s how you justify letting your mouth fall open. Wanting to tease him, you suck hard on his fingers, not practically enjoying the idea of what you’re doing, but loving the look on his face. “That’ll be enough,” he says as he withdraws his hand. 

“I love you,” he says, so quietly you almost miss it. He looks down at you, silently begging for you to say it back. 

Deciding, once again, to indulge him, since he’s willing to kill his family and all for you, you simply reply, “I love you too.” You tell yourself you had to, but you aren't convinced there wasn’t some free will behind it.

Your lungs are on fire as you push yourself far beyond your limits. Feet cut and bleeding, you come to a stop and try to steady your breath. You know you have probably mere minutes before he’s here. Feeling the adrenaline rush through your body, you wildly look around, hoping you can find something, anything to hide you. Or something to stab him with, you think as an afterthought. Seeing a clump of rocks, you decide that is probably your best bet and you half-run, half-limp to them. 

Bending down, you notice a small, almost cave-like hole that you didn’t see from the distance. Dropping down to squeeze inside, you pray that Titus misses it too. The cool, damp rock on your legs helps soothe the numerous little scraps and cuts. With a slight wiggle adjustment, you slip his suit jacket off, bunching it up at the entrance to help block you. Now, with your chest pressed flat into the rock, you can only hope you’re well enough hidden. As your breathing starts to return to normal, the thoughts of what to do next flood your head. You are practically naked, your feet and legs are already torn up pretty bad, and you have no food or water. The odds aren’t in your favor, but honestly, when have they ever been? 

You think back to what Titus said and the serious, concerned look on his face. The image makes your blood run cold. He never waivers ever and you don’t think he’d joke about something this horrible. At least you hope not, but you don’t really know him. You sigh, just as you were starting to warm up to him, he had to do this. You wish he would’ve just let the boyfriend girlfriend dynamic work out, at least then you were having fun and were mostly comfortable. Pressed between the two rocks, you can hear your heartbeat thumping in your ears.

Even though nothing in the world could make you admit it, the idea of being hunted down by a pissed off Titus, is doing things to you. Closing your eyes, you try to push down the rising heat in between your legs by thinking about the fact that he said his family was going to try to murder you. It doesn’t really work as well as it should. 

Titus is moving silently through the woods. He knows you’ll be where the cameras aren’t, you’re not dumb. Scanning the forest with hard eyes, he isn’t quite sure what he’s going to do to you when he catches you. The thought alone helps starve off the anxiety that was building about the game and the wedding. Instead, it’s making him even more eager to capture you so he can take out some of the pent up frustration on your delicate body. He follows the trail of pushed down weeds and snapped twigs, hoping he’s getting close. He noticed the trail seems to veer off and he can’t quite tell which way you went. Sensing you’re nearby, he calls out, “If you come here right now, I won’t hurt you as bad as I will if I have to keep looking.” 

You cringe, hearing his voice, but not really knowing where he is in relation to you. But, it doesn't sound incredibly close. Holding your breath, you try to push further back, hoping he’s not just fucking with you and he genuinely doesn’t know where you are. 

“We don’t have the time for this right now princess, I suggest you come out from wherever you are,” his voice cuts through the silence again. You can hear the anger rising in his voice, it’s nearing the level of when he caught you on your escape attempt. With a hard swallow, you try to stop yourself from shaking or breathing too loudly. 

Realizing the approach isn’t working, he decides to share more details about the game. Although he’d never let anyone actually hurt you, he does find himself fantasizing about inflicting the damage himself. “You know, sweetheart, my family is ruthless. If you think I’m bad, wait until all 20 of them or so are chasing you down. And, my sister, she wants nothing more than to get back at me for slaughtering her fiancé.” You gasp a little; what kind of fucked up freak brags about killing his own sister’s future husband? It’s comments like these that make you hyper-aware of how dangerous Titus really is. 

Hoping you’re within earshot, he continues, “Just today, she told me she couldn’t wait to carve into your pretty skin. And that she’d leave you intact enough so I could ‘get a few good fucks from your cold, lifeless body,’” he says, quoting Ursula exactly from earlier.  “I don’t want that to happen, baby, do you? I’d much rather fuck you when you’re warm and can fight back,” he snarls, getting frustrated he can’t tell where you’re at. “If you don’t let me help you with the marriage preparations, they'll take you away from me.” 

You flinch at the disturbing words, just enough that you bump his suit jacket off the ledge and it falls in front of you. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping he wasn’t looking in your direction. But, of course, he fucking was. Within mere seconds, he’s by the opening. 

“Aw, I should’ve known you were hiding from me, shouldn’t I have?” He says, mocking you. You bunch up as far into the opening as you can, seeing his hand aiming for you. You’re millimeters away from his grasp, but he can’t grab anything. You let out a sigh of relief. “You might as well come out,” he says, smirking, and you can see through his pants the hard-on he has. 

“I would rather starve,” you say, gritting your teeth. 

“Come out and take your punishment like a big girl. Then, we can move on,” he says, biting his lip as he enjoys how prey-like you are. The wild, fearful eyes, the curling up in a little hole in a rock, the nakedness. 

“No,” you say flatly. 

“The longer you’re in there, the more time I have to get really creative about what to do with you,” he says, as if that’s encouraging at all.

“I don’t fucking care,” you retort back, finding some comfort in knowing he at least can’t reach you in this given moment.

“So stubborn, and for what?” He says, crouching down so he’s looking directly at you with his dark eyes. In a moment of pure rage, you spit at him, hitting him directly in the face. Expecting anger, you’re a little surprised when he smirks, “Oh princess, you must be a glutton for punishment.” He slowly wipes it off before making a show of licking it off his hand.

“I hate you, you fucking freak,” you say, angrier that he didn’t react how you wanted him to. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, but turned on was not it. 

“Mmm, you don’t. That’s why I know your cunt is dripping right now, isn’t it, sweetheart? Deep down, you’re excited to be taken care of, aren’t you?” He taunts, watching the look of shock mixed with disgust cross your face, confirming what he already knew.

“I-It isn’t sicko. I don’t like you,” you stumble over your words out of embarrassment. 

“It’s okay, you can’t control what you’re into; it’s cute that you’re getting all hot and bothered being tracked down after being told you were going to get murdered. You don’t have to admit it, but you’re as fucked up as me, princess. That’s why I love you,” he smiles down at you. “Why don’t you come out?”

“Why don’t you just leave me alone?” you say back, knowing it sounds weak and pathetic. 

“Again, the longer I wait, the worse it’ll be for you,” he calmly replies. 

You twist in discomfort, your body starting to ache from being crammed at a weird angle. It’s just enough for Titus to grab a significant amount of your hair. As you scream, he pulls hard, forcing you up enough he can grab your neck. You choke and desperately try to peel off his hands, but he continues raising you out of the hole. 

By the time you’re out, your bathing suit bottoms have come off, and you feel dizzy from the lack of air. Whispering low into your ear, “I am sorry for this, sweetheart, but next time, just listen, okay?” You whimper, not having enough oxygen even to say anything back.

He sits down on one of the rocks and, with ease, bends you over his knees. He smiles, tracing over the brand he gave you with his finger. “Glad to see this healed nicely; it looks good, baby,” he says as he slams his fingers into you. You whine, weakly trying to wiggle off of him. “Told you, I knew you’d be nice and wet thinking about what I was going to do.” He makes no move to move them, instead just letting you feel them violating you.

“Stop,” you choke out. And, shockingly enough, he withdraws his fingers. But you have no time to relax as he brings his hand down directly onto your clit with a sickening slap. You scream out, but his grip on your waist only tightens. 

“We’ll do 50 slaps; I have to double it because you didn’t come out when I told you to. You’ll thank me for each one. If you don’t say it, we restart. At the end, I’ll fuck you. Depending on how long it takes, maybe I’ll let you get yourself off for me. Okay?” He says as if he is discussing the most mundane thing in the world. 

“Titus, please,” you gasp. He slaps again, causing you to shriek out. “Stop!”

“The phrase is ‘thank you,’ we have 50 to go,” he says. You squirm hard, trying frantically to sit up straight and grabbing at his legs wildly. He doesn’t react at all, instead just brings his hand down again. Yelping, without even thinking, you sink your teeth into his leg. “What the hell?!” he grabs instinctively at your head, giving you the chance to roll off him. 

Letting go of his leg, you stumble backwards, crouching down. Titus smiles, enjoying the crazed and trapped look in your eyes. “What now little girl? You think this one through?” He doesn’t move to stand up, instead he simply watches you for your next move. 

With no words even coming to mind, you let out a guttural scream, taking out all your frustration and anger come out. 

“Feel any better?” Titus asks, raising an eyebrow, but still making no move to get you. 

“I want to go home,” you say sharply.

“You are home,” he replies. “I know you don’t want to accept it, but you’re going to have to. You have two choices: get married to me or get killed. That’s it, 1 or 2 baby.” 

“Just kill me then,” you glare at him. 

With a sigh, he responds, “You know I’d never kill you, I don’t want you to die. I love you, even if it’s not reciprocated yet, it will be.” The way he says it with pure confidence makes the anger explode within you.

“I. will. never. love. you,” you’re practically snarling now, but Titus sees past that. He knows this is just a fear response.

Finding some sympathy, he offers “If you come here right now, we can put this behind us.” His face seems genuine and he recently has been following through on his word. He watches as you weigh your options. 

“You’re not going to hurt me?” you question, standing up now fully.

“At this moment, no,” he smiles and pats his leg. You fucking hate how he treats you like some stupid pet, right? Your mind says yes, but your body is betraying you. Cautiously you walk towards him, half expecting him to grab you, but he doesn’t. 

“I’ll compromise with you. Just blow me and we’ll go home to meet with the Lawyer,” he has an obnoxious grin now, waiting for you to react. 

Your lip twitches, pissed off that he always gets you to do what he asks. But, considering the alternatives, you kneel in front of him as he slides his pants down. You aggressively pull his boxers down and practically yank his cock out. 

“Woah, slow down, princess. You don’t have to be so eager,” he says, pushing you to say something. As you go to open your mouth to retort, he shoves your head down. “What was that, baby? Did you have something to say?” 

Your empty threats are muffled around his dick as he practically uses your throat to jerk himself off. “Mmm, you do so good when you’re angry,” he groans as you feel his hips starting to buck up. You purposely dig your fingernails into his thighs, wanting to hurt him. “And you always know what I like, don’t you?” He starts to move your head faster now, and you know he’s close. You hate that everything you do seems to turn him on. Pushing down hard, causing you to gag, he comes hard with a grunt and releases his grip on your head. 

You don’t say anything, but continue to scowl up at him. He demeaningly pats your head as he pulls his pants up. “Always so good, aren’t you? Well, you are when you aren't trying to hurt me or running away.” He offers you his hand to get up, but you push yourself up. You know he doesn’t like when he can’t bait you into being mad, so you stay silent. He smirks, expecting this reaction. So, he slides his hand in between your thighs, causing you to shiver by the sudden touch. “Mmm, so wet from just sucking me off, how adorable,” he lets his now-wet hand drop. 

“Please,” you practically whine. And you hate yourself for it, but you do really want to feel his touch right now. He feigns thinking about it for what feels like an eternity.

“I can’t,” he says with an annoyingly fake pout that slowly turns into a soft smirk as he adds, “If I let you get out of the punishment and get off, you might start to think you’re in charge.” With that, he holds up his jacket, offering it up to you. You snatch it and wrap it around yourself. 

“I fucking hate you,” you say, but even as much as you want to fully mean it, you know you don’t actually.

“I love you too. Now, if you can handle walking back to the house without incident, we can talk about next steps.” 

You scowl, but let him put his arm around your waist as he guides you back up to the house. Because you don’t really have any other choice, right?