There was still trust, even if the evidence he'd laid out with his villainy was also processed by her old mind. A broken rib is hard to ignore, even moreso when it was deliberate. And even if she knew he'd done that, she wouldn't stop believing in him. He had seen that as an insult in the past, but he supposed she traded evenly for it, with her agony now. Dark haired belle, caught in the result of her denial. Her good heart had been his weapon, in the end.<br/><br/>Please. It was the worst thing any victim could utter, and the best lure for any beast. Her sentimental composition did her no favors tonight. Naked and hurt, and looking at him like he was the only black flower in a garden roiling with lights. He played the part too, looking at her as though he saw her, but leaving no sympathy in his eyes, either. How did she feel on the inside, except for broken and stabbed by her own bones, to be soulfully and entirely ignored?<br/><br/>The rhythm of her breaths and how they broke for the things he did to her. Her head, the flailing orb that marked every evil, but only gave him delicious confirmation in return. She'd not understood, because she'd not been taught what was happening yet, and that look on her was marvelous. It solidified him further, which was to her determent, of course. Her skin was hot from inflammation, and darker in color for the kiss from his limb, moistened with precum.<br/><br/>She let him have her arms at great cost to herself. He didn't refuse the sacrifice. What a totem of trust and naivety she was, her black halo and her eyes in uproar for the punishment. She couldn't comprehend it because she hadn't earned it, and he wasn't being the person she thought, as though she'd believed those things more than physical reality. Perhaps an angel's faith is truer. And more simple. Roan loved her then.<br/><br/>Every thrust was accompanied by her breaking sounds. It was dizzying, how beautiful she sounded, because it was the result of his cock simply pushing against her. He'd beat people with his fists without causing nearly as much pain. And here she was, dying from him ramming into her. When there was ruby traces down her face with every breath, he let go of her arms, and they were as useless by her side as they had been captured.<br/><br/>Roan held her hair as he decorated the small pro truding bone with the pearl lengths of his seed. He growled at the dark pleasure, and looked at the barely alive woman that had taken his heart without seeing his beastly. Her sounds were their best now, cooked in the soup of her blood and drool. He dragged her by her hair. Perhaps he was loosing himself a little, after having received her as his immortal toy. Yes. It was she who had corrupted him by not understanding the depth of his darkness. Sineater angel. Heaven's best.<br/><br/>Roan tossed her on the bed heedlessly, and shed all his clothes. They were both bare when he tied them together in their limbs. "Should I let you sleep now?" he asked the woman who'd gladly taken darkness before, by the door that had become her prison. She'd think he meant to give her mercy. Whatever her answer, he would hold her close, which would be it's on torment, given her current injury. He'd cup her sex, which was still wet from before, when she'd tried to escape into its nerves to dull her own misery. Through the night he'd squeeze her to him possessively. and if she tried to crawl when he slept, he'd wake and stand over her, and think of new ways they could be together.