Chapter 21
TEDDY
Iwake up slowly, my head pounding like someone's using it for soccer practice. The metal floor is cold beneath me, and I realize with growing awareness that I'm completely naked, unrestrained, and alone.
They left me.
My heart hammers against my ribs as the reality sinks in. I'm free. Unbound. The trailer door is cracked open, spilling pale light across the metal walls. I could leave. Should leave. Call my supervisor, report what I've witnessed, do my goddamn job.
But my body tells a different story. My lips are swollen from Silas's cock, from Nova's mouth, from tastes I'll never be able to forget. The memory of their hands on me, their voices commanding me, their approval when I did what they wanted—it makes my spent cock twitch with renewed interest.
What kind of federal agent am I that part of me doesn't want to escape?
I force myself to sit up, wincing at the soreness in muscles I'd forgotten I had. My boxers lie crumpled near the chair, and I reach for them with unsteady hands. The fabric feels foreign against my skin now, like putting on a costume that no longer fits.
I can't find the rest of my clothes, but I'm surprised they left me this much as it is. And why leave the door unlocked? Why give me this chance?
Maybe Voss came back. Or maybe the Bureau sent someone after me when I didn't report in, and they had to scatter. Whatever the reason, I need to take advantage while I can. Even if my body screams at me to stay, to wait for them to return and continue what they started.
I move toward the door, bare feet silent on the cold metal. Through the crack, I can see the carnival's back lot—trailers arranged in neat rows, string lights casting everything in warm gold. Beyond this small residential area, the main carnival glows, music and laughter drifting on the night air.
My rental car sits in the public lot, but the keys are probably still in my pants pocket wherever they stashed my clothes. But getting to my car means crossing the entire grounds in my underwear, hoping nobody spots the half-naked federal agent making his escape.
How did my life become this surreal?
I push the door open wider, scanning for movement. The trailers look quiet, their windows dark or glowing softly with interior light. Most of the carnival workers are probably at the main show or cleaning up after the evening crowd. If I'm careful, if I'm lucky…
The fence separating the staff area from the woods beyond catches my eye. Chain link, maybe eight feet high, topped with razor wire that glints in the security lights. But there—a section where they worked around a fallen tree. The gap looks just wide enough for a desperate man to squeeze through.
The forest beyond would give me cover, let me circle around to a road where I could flag down help or at least find a phone.
Sure, explaining why I'm running through Missouri woods in my underwear might be awkward, but it beats staying here and letting them finish whatever psychological game they're playing with my head.
And kill me.
I slip out of the trailer, keeping to the shadows between the units. My heart pounds so loud I'm sure someone will hear it, but the carnival noise provides decent cover. The gap in the fence draws closer with each careful step.
That's when I hear it—laughter, rich and masculine, drifting from somewhere behind me.
Silas.
My feet freeze without conscious thought, my body recognizing that voice before my brain catches up. There's a quality to that laugh that makes my skin prickle with awareness, with want I'm not truly ready to acknowledge.
“Come on, little fed,” a feminine voice calls out—Nova, her tone playful. “Where do you think you're going?”
I break into a run.
The fence looms ahead, the gap narrower than I hoped but definitely navigable. Behind me, footsteps give chase, but they're not rushing. They're taking their time, like hunters who know their prey has nowhere to go.
“He's actually running,” Silas's voice carries easily across the lot, amused rather than concerned. “How adorable.”
“Should we let him get to the fence?” Nova asks, and there's laughter in her voice too. “Make him think he has a chance?”
They're playing with me. This whole thing—the unlocked door, the unguarded escape route—it's all part of their game. They wanted me to run. Wanted me to feel the hope of freedom before they crushed it.
But I'm committed now. The fence is twenty feet away, then ten, then I'm diving through the gap, feeling metal scrape against my bare shoulders as I squeeze through. Branches tear at my skin as I tumble into the underbrush beyond, but I'm free. I'm actually free.
I scramble to my feet and plunge deeper into the forest, adrenaline masking the pain of thorns and rocks under my bare feet. Trees whip past in a blur of shadow and moonlight as I run, putting distance between myself and the carnival.
This is insane. I'm a federal agent running nearly naked through Missouri woods because two carnies played mind games with my sexuality. If anyone from Quantico could see me now…
The laughter follows me into the trees. They're keeping up, maybe even gaining on me. I'm in decent shape, but running barefoot through undergrowth isn't really giving me the advantage.
“Getting tired, Agent Coleman?” Silas's voice drifts from my left, closer than it should be.
“This is fun,” Nova adds from somewhere to my right.
My lungs burn as I push harder, brambles tearing at my legs, low branches catching at my hair. But the voices never fall behind, never sound winded or strained. They're toying with me, letting me exhaust myself while they—
My foot catches on a fallen branch, and I go down hard, palms and knees hitting dirt and rocks. Pain shoots up my leg, but I force myself to keep moving, to get back up.
Then a boot lands on my back, pinning me to the forest floor.
“Gotcha.”
Nova's voice is breathless with exhilaration, not exertion. I try to twist around, to see her face, but the pressure on my spine keeps me down. Leaves and dirt press against my cheek as footsteps approach from another direction.
“Not bad for a fed,” Silas says, and I can hear the grin in his voice. “But you're going to have to do better than that if you want to escape us.”
The boot lifts from my back, and I roll over to find them standing above me—Nova with her auburn hair wild from the chase, Silas with that feral grin I'm starting to know too well.
They're both breathing hard, flushed with the hunt, and the sight of them like this sends unwelcome heat straight to my cock.
Even now, even after everything, my traitorous body wants them.
“Did you really think we'd just let you walk away?” Nova asks, dropping to her knees beside me. “After what we've shared?”
“I'm a federal agent,” I gasp, trying to inject authority into my voice. “You can't just—”
“Can't just what?” Silas crouches on my other side, close enough that I can smell his cologne mixed with sweat from the chase. “Can't hunt you through the woods like animals? Can't drag you back to our den and finish what we started?”
The image his words paint makes my breath hitch. Being dragged back, being at their mercy again, letting them strip away the last of my resistance until there's nothing left but need…
“You want to come back with us,” Nova observes, her green eyes bright in the moonlight. “Your body's telling us the whole story.”
I look down and curse silently. My boxers are tented again, my arousal obvious despite the circumstances. Despite everything that should be screaming at me to run, to fight, to maintain some shred of professional dignity.
“This is what we do to people who try to run from us,” Silas says, his hand settling on my chest, feeling my racing heartbeat. “We catch them. We claim them. We make them ours.”
“I'm not yours,” I protest weakly.
“Aren't you?” Nova's fingers trail along my jaw, deceptively gentle. “Then why does your cock get hard every time we touch you?
“You wanted us to catch you,” Silas says with certainty. “This whole chase, this dramatic escape attempt.” He grins at me. “It's all been foreplay. You want to be hunted, claimed, owned.”
His hand slides lower, over my ribs, my stomach, coming to rest just above the waistband of my boxers. The touch burns through the thin fabric, and I have to bite back a groan.
“Please,” I whisper, though I'm not sure what I'm pleading for anymore.
“Please, what?” Nova's thumb traces my lower lip, and I taste dirt and leaves on her skin. “Please let you go? Please finish breaking you? Please make you stop pretending you have any choice in this?”
All of the above. None of the above. I don't know anymore. The careful structure of my life, my identity, my moral compass—it's all crumbling under their relentless assault. Under the weight of desires I never knew I possessed.
“Please,” I repeat, the word barely a breath.
Silas's smile is sharp, victorious. “That's what I thought.”