IMPREGNATED BY THE ENEMY

YOU SET MY SOUL ALIGHT

~EGON’S POV~

Beholding her hazel eyes, I couldn’t deny myself the pleasure of admiring the fear that I inspired in them, “You have the finest pair of eyes. They charm me even when they are brimming with dread.”

“Talking hogwash won’t get you anywhere, sir,” snarls the little woman. “Aren’t you ashamed of your actions?"

“Shame is something that’s best suited for those who keep a regard for others’ perception of themselves,” I declare impassively. “I am bound by no such things, dear one.”

“Does that mean you have to sacrifice your conscience in the process?” questions the aerated woman with tearful eyes, winning my fancy.

Exhausted from discussing my lack of morality, I finally lock the door from the inside and grab her by her waist. In response, she launches feeble punches that strike my chest.

To see her struggle in vain, I cannot help but grin, which further miffs her. In pursuance of a quieter surrender, I bring my face closer to her ear to whisper to her the repercussions of denying me, “I will send my men to butcher your people if you keep resisting me. Now, I am sure, though Hamilton town is a foul land, you must have someone dear in there.”

“How despicable of you to even say that!” says the woman, looking away in disgust. "That town might've never opened its heart to me, but I suffer when I imagine even the possibility of pain being inflicted on it."

Grabbing her wrists, I drag her to the bed. As soon as she is made to lie down, she gapes at me with panic-stricken eyes that suggest she is seized with a feeling of foreboding. Caressing the soft skin on her cheek, I tell her, “The more I stare at you, the better understanding I get about the reason that must’ve convinced Cillian to marry you. You’re a fine woman with pleasing manners.”

Her inefficacy in even meeting my gaze demonstrates her prevailing fear of being hurt, yet she masks it well beneath a bogus display of courage as she attempts to threaten me, “What kind of lunacy is this? I just bit you. Shouldn’t you feel vexed?”

Who can be crossed with a woman like her? If you manage to look past her bewitching eyes, then her small frame is bound to enthral you. Though my actions are solely motivated by my inherent desire to mock Cillian, I am certain I will enjoy it even more than I’d imagined it.

For the sake of ridiculing her for her feigned gallantry, I tell her with my unfading smile, “When you claim that you can render more harm than just bite me, what exactly were you referring to? Perhaps you could be hinting at punching me? I can’t even begin to imagine how hard you’d punch me with your quavery hands.”

“Mocking a woman for her incapability to match your physical strength does not really paint you as a chivalrous leader, sir,” retorts the young lady in a voice as faint as a whisper, filled with resistance but lacking the audacity to act on it.

Intrigued by the contrast between her tongue's vociferous claims and her inscrutable countenance, I ask her, “Do you believe in love?”

“No, sir. That’s a foreign concept to me,” responds the woman and her eyes stir tears in them.

Forbidding the tears to ruin an evening as special as this one, I grab her jaw and crash my lips on hers and shove my tongue into her mouth to traverse through the sweetness that pertains there.

Obliged to obey me for the sake of Hamilton and its wretched people, she stops resisting. Looking almost identical to a pale, small mouse, she evokes a strange hunger within me, something I didn’t know I had.

“Tickling my fancy is going to cost you dearly,” I assert, turning her sweet plump bottom towards me.

“But, I didn’t do anything,” objects the woman, struggling to fathom how I have been mesmerised by her beauty, which she didn't believe she possessed.

But, this isn’t about falling in love. It is about getting even with this woman’s crooked husband, by stealing what belongs to that wretched man and ruining it. After reminding myself about my purpose, I plan to rip away her clothes and penetrate her in the rudest manner.

My foolish heart doesn't let me follow through with my plan. It keeps beating harder in my chest whenever I touch her very pale skin. Letting my feelings dictate me, I dare not go hard on her.

Being strangely gentle, I rid her of the shirt that I had very affectionately put on her. While I imagined the dainty woman’s back to be as peerless in beauty as her face, it has several scares. From taking one gander at them, anybody can tell she has been hurt badly. Letting my curiosity win over me, I ask the young woman, “Who hurt you?”

“Nobody that should concern you,” responds the woman churlishly.

Inspired to tease her more, I deliver a delicate slap to her bottom as I ask her, “Have you done anything bad?”

“No,” says the woman, and I unwittingly believe her.

My kindling interest in this woman whom I met not long ago, prods me to further ask her questions that would be rightfully regarded to be too personal, as I groped her breast with my left hand and parted her thighs with my right one.

Turning crimson, she looks away. Notwithstanding her forced disinterest, I plan on continuing to play with her. With my fingers entertaining her delicate womanhood, I ask her, “What’s your name?”

Suppressing her moans by clenching her fists, she heaves as she speaks, “Ah, I am Celie.”

“It’s okay, little one. You can moan all you want,” I tell her, and then begin sucking on her earlobe while simultaneously inserting my fingers into her wet heaven.

“S-stop it,” stutters the delicate Celie. “What are you doing to me? I feel weird.”

Seeing her flustered face, how can one stop? Those inviting pink buds embellished on her breasts certainly didn’t help. Upon registering my gaze on her beautiful mounds, Celie covers them with her hands, as if ashamed of having them.

Ineffectual in being devoted to my objective of not getting engaged more than required, I find myself entrapped by the bedabble woman’s proportions. By parting her legs apart, I let my little friend enter her, making her wail in the process. Promising her how it will get better, I begin planting kisses on her face while riding her.

There are no longer tears on her face. Instead, I see her eyes wide shut as she gives herself to the experience, letting out moans wild enough to get me to c*m. Pleased, I hold her tenaciously to my chest. Jaded by our intense activity, she has to forfeit the desire to resist me and unwillingly surrenders herself. Though I might have f****d several women, intending to invariably leave at the end, I have never held one closer to my chest like this.

Once she’s deeply immersed in her sleep, I unconsciously begin brushing her long, dark hair with my fingers. My inability to keep my hands to myself woke the woman up. While I imagined I’d be faced with the same fighting spirit as I had observed in her before, I encountered tears.

“Why does this happen to me? I would’ve rather preferred death than this shame,” whinges Celie, placing her hands against my chest to push me away.

Rather than walking away as I’d expected myself to do, I stay there, listening to her sobs and even wiping her tears. What is wrong with me?

~CELIE’S POV~

With my hands buried between my breasts, I pray that there is no tomorrow. How will I face my husband now? Should I just follow in my mother’s footsteps and choose to escape this misery by ending myself?

“Your silence worries me,” states the perverted Alpha, arresting me once again in his arms and not prepared to let me go.

Irreparably buried under the weight of dubiety, I am forced to muse on what is about to happen next. Though I am undoubtedly in a repugnant state, it can not be disputed that I have managed to dodge death itself.

“Now that you’ve had your way with me, let me go,” I implored him to return me to Alpha Cillian.

Even if he might not accept me anymore, it doesn’t change the fact that I am his lawfully wedded wife and belong to him. As pathetic as it sounds, a woman who ends up in a state as wretched as mine has no place in this society, but her husband's arms if he takes her in. He doesn't provide me with an answer.

As audacious or utterly foolish as it might sound, I push the man off me, tied my hair in a bun and wore back the shirt that I had received from him. A little reflective, he does not really say much or moves.

Adamant that I will not be breathing any more than mere minutes into this huge household, I push the door open and decide to face the shame that awaits me upfront. Though frantic about facing the volatile atmosphere of a foreign land, I scuttle through the hallways, ignoring the slurs thrown at me.

With faint images from my marriage with Alpha Cillian beginning to flash before my eyes, they get maligned by my vision in which I had wound up dead. Because of the same, I feel a strange resistance stopping me right in the middle of the woods. As much as I can falsely convince myself about my readiness to accept death at my husband’s hands, my heart objects to it.

“Why must he kill me?” I wonder as I squat in the middle of unknown terrain, struggling to move.

Before I reach a decision, I am startled by a pair of arms that are wounded around me. Fearing being attacked by an enemy, I yelped in horror, “Help!”

“You aren’t that bright, are you?” questions the impertinent Alpha Egon. “Who’s going to help you in a place as secluded as a forest?”

“Let go, fiend!” I blurt out while wrestling him to free myself from him.

“Fiend? Haven’t I been anything but gentle with you?” asks the man while grabbing the collar of my shirt.

Knowing how well the rumours had depicted him as a sadist, I try not to further ruffle the man's feathers, “Pardon me if I might come off as impudent, but I cannot say that you haven’t ruined my life when you did. You robbed me of my chastity and a foreseeable future.”

“Your chance at having a future was as good as me having a wife,” suggests the presumptuous one with a chuckle. “Didn’t you see the dagger in your husband's hand? Who would bring a dagger to their room on their wedding night? Can’t you see the oddity of it? You were destined to die tonight.”

His words are bitter, but they do hold substantial truth. Because of my vision, I knew that the only reason that drew Alpha Cillian to me was his motive for revenge. Albeit, I couldn’t bring myself to stray from my desire to escape my uncle and aunt. Death was unarguably preferable to getting scourged for being the object of my uncle’s salacious gaze.

As per the ideals instilled within me from a very young age by my mother, a woman had no identity of her own. From assuming the mere surname of her husband, she inarguably becomes his property. Therefore, I cannot call any place but Hamilton my home, even when death awaits me there.

By snapping his fingers before my eyes, Alpha Egon commands me to pay him attention. Aware of how he might not allow me to leave, I give him a violent push and turn away from him to scurry away.

Caught sooner than I imagined, I find myself squeaking for help, which peeves the Brute Egon and he renders me unconscious with a cruel jab at the back of my head.

No sooner than midnight, I arise in a different setting. The room has no windows or any other passages for light. Single-minded about my resolute to leave, I can only fathom knocking on the door to grab attention to get someone to come to my aid. So, I did just that.

As little provocative as it has been in my thoughts, my unruly behaviour gets me in trouble when I come face-to-face with Alpha Egon. To discover the reason for the ruckus caused, he asks me, “What’s your purpose in hurting our ears like this?”

“Let me leave. My husband must be like a cat on a hot tin roof because of my absence,” I say, daringly.

“I do applaud you for your courage to stand so firm in your view like this, but I also can’t help but suggest that your husband hasn’t even sent an army to collect you, which indicates that he doesn’t really care for you,” informs Egon, reminding me of the obvious.

Since arguing with the obdurate man cannot aid me in reaching a solution, I relent to screaming once again with all my might, forlornly trying to get someone to listen.

“Nobody can assist you, love. They’d rather kill themselves than act against my instructions,” says Egon, sounding unfailingly tyrannical.

Devoted to the teachings about returning to the only one place that can entertain the idea of home for me, I try to convince him of the same, “As a married woman, I cannot forsake my honour by taking refuge in my husband’s enemy’s estate.”

“The problem with my inability to consider your proposal is that you’re not married to just anyone. Lamentably, you chose to settle for my nemesis, Cillian, who owes me an heir. Since he cannot beget a child, I shall extract the same from his wife,” declares Egon, sounding nothing like the first time I had met him.