Chapter 18
The Prey
T wo days later, I find myself standing next to Valentine and Carolina in a dimly lit building, the air thick with anticipation. The scent of damp wood and dust fills my nostrils as I take in the grandiose space, the echoes of our footsteps bouncing off the walls.
Carolina’s voice breaks the silence. “This place would be perfect for the Willow’s Foundation charity event. It’s just… it needs a little TLC.” Her eyes are filled with determination, her jaw set in a firm line. I admire her tenacity, even as I feel a pang of sadness.
Valentine’s deep, measured voice responds, “Well, I’m intrigued.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, his fingers brushing against his chiseled jawline. The simple act sends a shiver down my spine, a jolt of electricity that ignites an unwelcome desire within me.
I trail behind them as Carolina insists we do a thorough walkthrough. Despite my attempts to pay attention to their conversation, my thoughts keep flicking back to our last private encounter in his office.
The hours spent in that room play on an endless loop in my mind, making it hard to focus on anything else. I’m proud of myself, proud of the way I acted. I was a willing participant, hell, I even asked for what I want ed.
While the two of them talk about the building’s foundation, support beams, and other things I don’t care about, I notice Valentine correcting the cuff on his jacket, pulling it down.
Oh! That reminds me of the tattoo I saw. Until now, I’d forgotten all about it, too high on my actions to remember much else. I try to get a good look at Valentine’s wrist. It’s no use, though. It’s fully covered.
I’m sure my eyes were just playing tricks on me. There’s no way I saw what I think I saw… right? I mean, Nick would know, and he would have warned me, wouldn’t he? As I ponder that, Jack’s warnings about Valentine come to mind. But they were just general warnings, not like… I mean, they weren’t specifically about the person that tattoo is associated with… were they?
Before I realize what I’m doing, I pull my phone out of my clutch and text Nick.
Me: This might sound weird, but didn’t you once mention that the Hunter has a tattoo?
The reply from my brother comes immediately.
Nick: Yes. A snake wrapped around a bow. Why?
Nick: Have you seen it?
Nick: Ruby, if you’ve seen it I need to know.
Nick: [image]
While gnawing at my bottom lip, I open the picture he just sent me. Although I already know what I saw, it’s still a surprise to have it confirmed in black and white. The image is exactly what Valentine’s tattoo looks like.
Well, shit.
With shaky hands, I type a quick reply to my brother .
Me: That’s not what I saw. I didn’t think it would be a match when I saw it spray painted on a building. But with February so close, I figured it was better to be sure.
I’m glad for the interruption when Carolina calls out to me. “Keep up, Ruby.”
After catching up to them, we continue through the vast, empty building, our footsteps reverberate, making it sound like we’re stomping around rather than leisurely strolling around. After rounding a corner, Valentine discreetly slows his pace, matching it to mine rather than Carolina’s so we’re both trailing behind her.
Suddenly, her phone blares, shattering the silence. Carolina’s eyes widen as she glances at the screen. “It’s Nick,” she murmurs, her voice a mix of excitement and apprehension. “I have to take this.” She dashes off, leaving Valentine and me alone in the dimly lit space.
Valentine’s gaze lingers on me, his dark eyes filled with a hypnotic intensity. I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. The dynamic between us shifts, the air thick with unspoken tension.
His hand brushes against mine, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. My breath hitches as he intertwines his fingers with mine, the warmth of his touch both comforting and unnerving.
“Come,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “There’s something I want to show you.”
He leads me through the maze of hallways, the darkness enveloping us like a cloak. My pulse races as I follow him, my senses heightened, every nerve ending on edge. The anticipation is almost unbearable, my body aching for more of his touch.
We come to a stop in front of a black door where the paint is peeling off. He pushes it open and tugs on my hand until I follow him inside. His lips curl into a sinister smile as the door slams shut behind us, and he leans in close, his breath hot against my ear. “I want your underwear.”
My cheeks flush with shame and desire, the conflicting emotions warring within me. “What?” I gasp.
“You heard me, Mrs. Simmons,” he clips, using his teacher voice. “Give m e your panties.”
“I…” Trailing off, I stop myself from voicing my immediate reaction, which is to say no. “What do I get in return?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.
To my surprise, Valentine chuckles. “What do you want?”
Shaking my head, I let out an annoyed huff. “I’ve already told you what I want. You.”
His eyes darken as he takes a step closer. “And what exactly do you want from me, Mrs. Simmons?”
I shrug one shoulder. “For starters, I want you to call me by my first name when we’re not in class.”
Without waiting for his reply, I reach under my knee-long skirt, discreetly slipping off my lacy black panties, the fabric damp with my arousal. I watch as Valentine takes them from my trembling hands, his gaze never leaving mine. He brings the underwear to his nose, inhaling deeply as a wicked grin spreads across his face.
“I accept your terms, Ruby, ” he says, his voice deliciously low and dark.
The sight of him holding my intimate garment sends a jolt of electricity through my body, the intensity of the moment nearly overwhelming. I feel a twisted sense of satisfaction knowing that I’ve pleased him, that I’ve given him a piece of myself that no one else can have.
“Such a good pet,” he croons. I part my lips to say something, but whatever I wanted to say stays lodged in my throat as his tongue darts out and he licks the crotch area of my panties. “Mhmm, you’re aroused.”
It’s not a question, but I still nod.
I don’t know why it’s so hard to find my words when I’m around Valentine. Or maybe that’s not the right way to describe it since I have plenty I want to say. I just… don’t. With him, I let my actions speak louder than my voice ever could.
The moment is shattered as Carolina calls our names, sounding like she’s close. Valentine quickly shoves my panties into his pocket. “This is our secret.” He shoots me a wink, which is so out of character for him I just blink. “Say it,” he demands.
“It’s our se cret,” I reply, not sure why he even felt the need to say it. It’s not like I’ve told anyone about anything we’ve done. As he moves to the door, I still add, “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
Where I head straight to Carolina, following her voice, I suspect Valentine purposefully took a detour when he joins us a few minutes later. Luckily for me, my sister-in-law is too busy explaining why she needs to suddenly leave to question where we’ve been or why we left.
“Umm… did Nick say anything else?” I probe, needing to know if he mentioned my text.
“Nope,” she replies.
Feeling at the end of my ropes, like I need some time alone, I make a point of leaving with her, getting into the black car that’s, as always, waiting for me. I don’t look at Valentine or offer him more than a courteous goodbye.
During the drive home, I do my best to get my head on straight. Shaking all thoughts about Valentine, his tattoo, and what it all means away. Then I mentally slip back into the role as Michael’s wife—a role that’s becoming harder and harder to fulfill lately.
While I’ve never been happy with Michael, there have been times where I’ve been content—no, that’s too generous. Let’s just say there have been times where I wasn’t outright unhappy.
But now I can’t stop comparing him to Valentine in every possible way, and no matter how I look at it, my husband comes up short. Each day he becomes more and more revolting to me.
I arrive home, my body still buzzing from my encounter with Valentine. I push open the door, my heart sinking as I see Michael sitting on the couch, his eyes dark and brooding. “Where have you been?” he growls, his voice laced with anger.
“Out with Carolina. We were looking at venues for the charity.” I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice steady.
He eyes me suspiciously, his gaze traveling down my body. “Dressed like that?” he asks, his voice filled with disgust.
“You picked it out,” I retort. Instead of saying all the things I want to, I press my lips together, determined not to antagonize him when he looks like that.
Mic hael stands up, wobbling slightly. That’s when I notice the almost empty bottle of whiskey on the table. Shit, he’s drunk. “I want you,” he says, his voice filled with menace.
I take a step back, my body trembling with fear. “I-I’m tired.” I try to sound convincing, but I know it’s futile.
Michael’s eyes narrow as he steps closer, his hand reaching out to grab my arm. “I don’t care.”
I flinch at his touch, my mind racing as I try to come up with a plan to avoid him touching me since I don’t want him knowing I’m not wearing panties.
Sure, it would be all too easy to tell him I’m doing what he asked; giving my body to Valentine. But my entire being balks at the thought of sharing that with him. What I do with Valentine is for me; because I want to.
Since Michael hasn’t brought it up again or asked for an update, which he’s done the other times, I’ve assumed he’s forgotten about it. Which is all the more reason not to bring it up again.
“Please,” I whisper, my voice filled with desperation. “Let me make you feel good. As your wife, that’s my duty.”
His eyes darken as he looks down at me, his grip tightening. “How?”
I take a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest. “I want to suck you off,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes widen in surprise before a cruel smile spreads across his face. “On your knees.”
Doing as he says, I drop to my knees, my hands shaking as I reach for his belt. I try to focus on the task at hand, knowing that this is the only way to protect what I have with Valentine.
As I pull down his pants, I can’t help but think of Valentine. How different it is when I’m with him. How much I want him, need him. Pushing the thoughts aside, I focus on Michael. I take him in my mouth, my movements slow and deliberate.
Michael grabs my hair and forces himself down my throat. I close my eyes as his movements become more erratic. To drown out the sounds of his pleasure, I replay the sounds Valentine made. But there’s no masking the sour taste of Michael’s pre-cum on my tongue.
Fin ally, he tenses, his grip on my hair tightening as he spills into my mouth. I swallow, my stomach turning as I try to keep from gagging.
He pulls away, his eyes filled with satisfaction. “That wasn’t bad,” he says, his voice dripping with condescension.
I force a smile, my body trembling with relief as he steps away. “Thank you,” I reply softly.
He nods, his gaze still on me as he pulls up his pants. “Go to bed,” he orders, dismissing me.
My legs shake as I stand up and hurriedly make my way to the bedroom. As soon as I’m out of sight, I let the tears fall, my body wracked with silent sobs. But even as I cry, the sense of satisfaction I feel is overwhelming.
I protected Valentine… no. That’s not accurate. I protected myself; my choice, and I’ll do it again and again, no matter what it costs me.