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Marked By The Devil's Heir Novel Cover

Marked By The Devil's Heir

Malakai Kreston is the preacher’s flawless son, but a dark secret threatens his reputation. When wealthy Pierce Masterson uncovers the truth, he uses incriminating photos to force Malakai into absolute submission. Pierce demands total control over Malakai’s body and mind, turning the silent stalker into the prey. In this twisted game of psychological manipulation and abuse, Malakai must decide how much he will endure before his desire for freedom vanishes.
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Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

~MALAKAI~

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I sprint down the field, the cheers of my teammates grow louder. This is the first football practice of the semester, and my heart is racing with excitement.

I grasp the football tightly, but in an instant, a crushing tackle sends my body flying against the ground.

The impact causes a cry of pain to escape my mouth. I look up to see my opponent, and it is none other than Pierce.

Something about his arrogant stance pisses me off. The glint in his dark gaze tells me that he's mocking me. His lips curl into a smirk, slow and deliberate, like he's savoring the sight of me sprawled beneath him.

"Malakai, come on!" I can hear my teammates cheering.

Despite the pain and shock, my fingers instinctively tighten around the ball. There is no way I'm going to lose to him.

Lana is currently watching. If I want her to be impressed by me, I have to do more than this. I try to stand, but Pierce suddenly jumps on top of me. The force of his weight flattens me to the ground, snatching the breath out of my lungs.

I cannot move. Not even an inch. He is simply too strong. He is much bigger than me, and his bulging muscles aren't for show. His body covers mine completely, caging me against the grass like I'm nothing. Like I'm prey.

"What's a twink like you doing on the field, huh?" He sneers directly into my ear, his hot breath fanning across my skin.

He is too close. Our bodies are pressing tightly against each other, chest to back, his hips pinning mine down. The heat emanating from his body seeps into mine, and I hate how aware I am of every hard inch of him.

This position is...

Humiliating.

He can just easily collect the ball from me, but he seems to rather enjoy toying with me. His large hand grabs the back of my neck, forcing my face further into the dirt. Grass and soil fill my mouth. His fingers dig into my skin, and my body is trapped between his powerful thighs, squeezed tight like a vice.

"You enjoy being dominated like this, preacher boy?" His taunts ring in my ears. His voice is low, meant only for me. Intimate in a way that makes my skin crawl. "You're trembling. Is it fear? Or something else?"

I want to scream at him, but his weight is crushing my lungs. All I can manage is a pathetic wheeze.

If I didn't already hate him, I certainly despise him enough now.

His thigh shifts against me. Slow.

My breath catches.

And is it my imagination, or is he grinding against me?

No.

Is he excited?

Then why do I feel something hard poking against my lower back? Something thick and unmistakable pressing into me through the thin fabric of our shorts.

My face burns with humiliation. This can't be happening.

"Let go!" I spit, but my voice comes out weak, breathless. His grip only tightens, and he chuckles at my futile struggles. The sound vibrates through his chest and into my back.

"Make me," he whispers.

He's insane. He's completely fucking insane.

Is he being like this because I'm suddenly closer to Lana? Is this some kind of sick territorial display?

His hips roll against me one more time, slow and grinding, and a strangled sound escapes my throat before I can stop it. I don't even know what that sound was. Anger. Humiliation?

The referee blows the whistle, and much to my relief, the rest of our teammates rush towards us. Pierce instantly lets go.

I scramble to my knees, dirt smeared across my face, and glare at him angrily. He stands above me, not even out of breath, looking down at me like I'm an insect he's just finished playing with.

He extends a hand towards me.

"I'm just trying to help. Can you stand?" He says, smirking. His eyes are gleaming with dark amusement.

I ignore his extended hand as Tate helps me to my feet. My legs are shaking, and I hate that Pierce can see it.

"You look terrible. You better visit the nurse's office. I'll escort you."

Tate leads me out of the pitch. Something prompts me to look back, and I instantly regret it.

My eyes clash against Pierce's. He's staring at me so intently that my legs falter. His gaze travels down my body slowly.

What is that look for?

I suddenly feel like an endangered species in this instant. The intensity of his gaze burns deeply through my skin like a hot rod of steel, branding me.

I can only interpret it as hate. Perhaps he does loathe me more than I dislike him.

But hate doesn't explain the way he looked at me. Hate doesn't explain what I felt pressed against my back.

I shake the thought away and keep walking.

***

"How did you offend him? Anyone would think that he's marked you!" Tate says, staring at my bruised shoulders, which bear Pierce's hand imprint. The red welts are stark against my pale skin, shaped exactly like his fingers. Like he branded me on purpose.

I wince at the reddish sight and curse my pale, sensitive skin.

"Don't speak nonsense. He's completely nuts," I say, anger flushing through me as I recall how he'd humiliated me. Sure, I wasn't Mr. Muscular, but I certainly am no twink!

I pause.

Am I?

I'm not that tall. I stand currently at 5'10 at eighteen years old. Pierce already stands over 6'2. I also don't have muscles compared to him. My body is lean. When it comes to bodily hair too, I barely have any, while Pierce probably has a trail of dark hair leading down from his navel to his-

Wait!

Am I getting insecure and comparing myself to that bastard?

Why am I even thinking about his body?

I shake my head aggressively, trying to dislodge the unwanted thoughts.

"Sorry, I have to return to practice," Tate says, glancing at the wall clock.

He leaves, and I stand from the nurse's bed. Everybody has either left or is watching the practice. This is the best opportunity for me.

I return to the empty classroom and head straight to Lana's bag. I search through it for some seconds, wondering what to steal this time.

I gaze at her handkerchief and quickly stuff it into my pocket. My heart spikes, and I'm getting excited again. The familiar rush of adrenaline, the thrill of having something that belongs to her.

I grab one of her notebooks as well, and a smile slowly makes its way to my lips. I can't wait to be her knight in shining armour when I return it to her. She'll think I found it somewhere. She'll be grateful. She'll smile at me.

I leave the classroom. The crowded hallway tells me that the game is already over. My eyes locate Lana instantly, and my smile freezes in place.

She is standing in front of Pierce.

In her hand is a bottle of water, which she extends towards him. She is gazing at him with a soft smile, the kind of smile I've been dreaming about receiving from her.

The betrayal I feel in this instant is blinding. I can taste it at the back of my throat, and it's fucking bitter.

My icy eyes continue to glare at Pierce, and as though he can feel my heated gaze, he suddenly turns, and our gazes lock.

One of his brows quirks challengingly. He is once again mocking me as he accepts the water from Lana and opens it. He starts to gulp it down while his gaze remains fixated on me. Water drips down his chin, trailing down his neck, and I watch a droplet disappear beneath the collar of his jersey.

Why am I watching that?

I force my eyes back to his face, and he's smirking. Like he knows exactly where I was looking.

With Pierce's good looks and height, and adding to the fact that his family is filthy rich and powerful, he's every girl's dream. Lana will most certainly fall for his type. It's clear that I stand no chance against him.

They haven't announced that they are dating yet, but then again, Pierce doesn't do relationship stuff. I've heard enough rumours to know that he merely fucks girls and dumps them. He changes girls weekly, and sometimes even less than that.

He's going to destroy her. Just like he destroys everyone.

He suddenly leans towards Lana. His mouth captures hers in a kiss that sends my blood roaring in my ears. But his eyes don't close. They stay open, locked onto mine, watching me as his tongue slides into her mouth.

He continues to kiss her passionately, grabbing her ass and pulling her against him. His hands are all over her, possessive and claiming, but his gaze never leaves my face.

He's not kissing her for her.

He's kissing her for me. To show me. To taunt me.

My whole body vibrates with raw anger. And jealousy.

I want to kill him.

My blood pulsates with murderous intention.

And the bastard is grinning at me as he pulls away from Lana, licking his lips slowly, deliberately. Like he's tasting something delicious. Like he's daring me to act.

I badly want to snatch Lana from his arms, but I know I will only end up making a fool of myself. So I stand there, watching and enduring, knowing it should be me holding Lana like that. Not him.

There is nothing good about Pierce. I can love Lana more. I can treat her better. I will cherish her way more than him.

I can't let him use her and crush her as he does to the other girls he sleeps with. I have to protect her. It's the only way I can truly prove my love for her.

I'm going to keep Pierce Masterson far away from her.

At any cost.

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