20. Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Rayne
The soft glow of streetlights illuminates the sidewalk as I make my way home, plastic grocery bags swinging gently from my hands. The night air is cool against my skin, a welcome relief after the stuffy warmth of the crowded store. I'd managed to grab the essentials–milk, eggs, bread, and a few frozen dinners for those nights when cooking feels like too much effort.
My footsteps echo softly in the quiet evening, most of the shops already closed for the night. A few cars pass by, their headlights briefly illuminating the storefronts before fading away. The scent of jasmine drifts on the breeze from someone's garden, sweet and intoxicating.
I'm only a few blocks from my apartment now, my thoughts already drifting to a hot shower and comfortable pajamas. The day's work has left me pleasantly tired, muscles aching in that satisfying way that comes from doing something you love. Images from Breanna's shoot flicker through my mind and small smile tugs at my lips.
Lost in my musings, I barely register the dark alleyway I'm passing until hands suddenly grab me, yanking me roughly off the sidewalk. My heart leaps into my throat as I'm dragged deeper into the shadows, my mind struggling to catch up with what's happening. A man's voice, low and threatening, growls in my ear.
"Don't scream or I'll shoot you."
Fear floods my system, icy tendrils wrapping around my chest and making it hard to breathe. My body goes rigid, muscles locking up as panic takes hold. For several long moments, I can't even process what's happening. My fingers remain stubbornly curled around the handles of my grocery bags, as if clinging to that last shred of normalcy.
It takes what feels like an eternity, but is likely only seconds, for my brain to catch up. The plastic handles finally slip from my grasp, bags hitting the ground with a soft thud. Eggs crack, milk spills, but none of that matters now. All I can focus on is the iron grip on my arms and the paralyzing terror coursing through my veins.
My heart hammers as he shoves me roughly against the brick wall, waving a gun unsteadily toward my face. The cold metal of the barrel glints in the dim light filtering into the alley. His eyes are wild, pupils dilated, darting around erratically.
"Give me all your money." he snarls, his words slurring together. The stench of alcohol on his breath makes my stomach churn.
My breath catches as the gun tilts closer to my face before swaying slightly away. His hand trembles, the weapon weaving an unsteady path through the air. He doesn't seem steady, or sane. The manic gleam in his bloodshot eyes sends chills down my spine. This isn't just a desperate man looking for quick cash–there's something unhinged in his demeanor.
Time seems to slow to a crawl as I watch his finger tighten on the trigger. In the moments it takes my brain to catch up, I brace for the deafening bang of the gunshot.
But it never comes.
Instead, I watch in slow motion as a knife is suddenly thrust into the side of my attackers neck. The hand holding it twists the blade, using it to pull the attacker backward away from me. The metallic scent of copper fills my nostrils as I gasp in shock and blood starts pouring from the wound in the man's neck.
I stop breathing, paralyzed as I watch the crimson gush rapidly down his body. The man's eyes go wide with surprise and pain. When the hand pulls the knife back out, the gun clatters to the ground as my attackers hands fly to his neck, trying in vain to stem the tide of red.
He is still too close to me and I feel a few warm flecks of blood hit me.
A gurgling sound escapes his lips as he is jerked back further by the person behind him. The attacker is then pushed toward the opposite wall of the alleyway where he almost hits the dumpster there, before his legs give out and he crumples to the ground in a heap beside it. Twitching, gasping, drowning in his own blood.
I can't move. Can't breathe. Can't process what I'm seeing. My mind reels, unable to make sense of how quickly everything changed. One moment I was staring down the barrel of a gun, the next...
I’m staring at a completely different man, holding a blood stained knife up to the light. The black gloves on his hands almost blend seamlessly with the perfectly tailored black shirt and pants.
River.
But how is he here? How did he know I needed saving? How is it those black gloves on this man look so fucking hot?
“Were you… following me?” The question is barely a breath as I try to steady myself, my heart still racing in my chest.
He grins, that dark, dangerous grin as he steps over the body at our feet. His blue eyes glint with something wicked, and he brings the tip of the bloody knife to my throat, resting it there as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. "Aww, so you really didn’t notice?" His voice is taunting, mocking. "I was being very mindful… very demure."
A shocked, breathless laugh slips out before I can stop it, and he raises a brow, his grin widening as his gaze flickers over me, devouring every reaction. His empty hand presses just below where the knife sits, his fingers a firm, possessive weight on my skin, stealing the breath from my lungs.
River’s eyes gleam with a dark satisfaction as he watches me, his hand pressed firmly against my chest, feeling the rapid, unsteady beat of my heart beneath his palm. “You feel that?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “That rush? The way the blood’s pumping inside you? That’s you feeling alive.”
A shiver courses down my spine, and his hand trails slowly down my body, fingers grazing the curve of my breast before his palm cups and squeezes, coaxing a moan unbidden from deep within me. He chuckles darkly, noting my reaction. “Not crying... Not screaming,” he observes, his eyes narrowing as he looks down at me.
“Should I be?” I manage to ask, my voice soft but steady, and he laughs softly, a sound that’s both a little shocked and admiring.
“That would be the ‘normal’ response to what just happened,” he murmurs, fingers curling into the material of my dress, tugging it higher, inch by inch. The air against my skin feels electric, each bit of fabric that rises sending a wave of heat curling low in my body. The edge of the knife still presses against my skin, and I can’t help but wonder if the blood from my would-be attacker has smeared onto my throat. I shudder at the thought, a thrill running through me.
River’s fingers reach my underwear, pushing them aside, sliding his fingers along my folds. His touch is rough and deliberate, the feel of the leather glove on his hand harsh against my skin and I can’t suppress the groan that escapes me, mingling with his own as his fingers move. His leg nudges mine apart, keeping my dress raised, leaving me bare to him. He pulls his fingers back and brings them to his mouth, eyes locked onto mine as he licks them clean, his gaze smoldering. The sight of it makes my blood feel like it’s on fire, heat pooling low and sharp in my body. I vaguely wonder if I taste good mixed with the leather of his glove.
"All that… just for me?" His voice is almost mocking, and his eyes glitter with dark satisfaction. "Watching me kill that man… did that turn you on?"
I can’t respond. My throat is too dry, my words lost, all I can do is moan for him. I watch him, pulse pounding in anticipation. His carribean eyes look deep into mine, and whatever he sees there…
“Fuck it,” he growls, his movements growing more frantic, his gaze primal. He drops the knife with a metallic clink before spinning me around. He presses me against the wall, his gloved hands rough as he positions me exactly where he wants, dragging my hips back until I almost stumble over the legs of the dead man on the ground. I brace my hands against the brick wall, the rough surface scratching against my skin. His fingers dig into my hips as he pulls my dress up again, higher this time, until the fabric pools around my waist. A low, growl fills the air as he kicks my feet apart.
I hear the clink of a belt and then the sound of his zipper, the anticipation making my body ache. The blunt head of his cock presses at my entrance, stretching me as he pushes in. His hand moves up to wrap around my throat, and the moan that escapes me this time is as raw as it is shameless.
River’s thrusts are rough, his pace unforgiving, and it only makes my pulse race harder, my body pushing back against him despite the madness of it all. His hand tightens around my throat, not enough to cut off my air, just enough to feel the steady thrum of my pulse under his fingers.
He leans close, his mouth at my ear, his voice a low, dark growl. “I would kill anyone who threatens you,” he murmurs, every word dripping with a terrifying sincerity. “If you want to watch next time… if you want to help… all you have to do is ask.” His voice trails off into a sinister chuckle as his grip on me tightens, his other hand sliding up, pushing my dress further up my body. “Hell, I’d fuck you in their still-warm blood if you wanted.”
The words should chill me, but instead, they burn, stoking a dark, hidden part of my soul that craves that reckless, almost sick level of possession. It’s as if his brutal promises speak to something twisted and raw deep inside me, something I can’t ignore, even if I want to. I gasp, and he must sense it, his fingers curling harder around my throat.
I’m barely able to breathe, but somehow I manage, “And… what about Knox?” The name slips from my lips, almost a whisper, as I wonder if the other man shares this same intensity, this same violent hunger.
River chuckles, his fingers pressing down harder. “Don’t let that alpha act fool you,” he murmurs. “Knox would slit the throat of anyone who so much as breathes too close to you.” He thrusts harder, his hips slamming against mine, his voice a dangerous promise in my ear. “You’re ours now. Do you understand?”
Another groan tears from my throat, as my mind stumbles over his words, over the implications. “I’m no one… and you only just met me,” I manage, a desperate attempt to cling to reason, but he scoffs, his grip on me unwavering.
“Do you really think the photoshoot was the first time we saw you?” His laughter is almost mocking. “You have no idea how much we know about you, how long we’ve watched you… from a distance, waiting for the right moment.”
River's words send shockwaves through me, but before I can even process their meaning, his thrusts become more frantic, more animalistic. His grip on my throat tightens, cutting off my air supply completely. Stars dance at the edges of my vision as he pounds into me relentlessly, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing obscenely in the alley.
His free hand snakes around to my front, gloved fingers finding my clit with unerring accuracy. He rubs furious circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves, the dual stimulation overwhelming my senses. My lungs burn for air, my body trembling on the precipice of something earth-shattering.
River's breath is hot against my ear, his words a feral growl. "Come for me, Rayne. Show me how much you love this. How much you need it."
The world narrows to a pinpoint of sensation–the rough brick scraping my palms, the fullness of him inside me, the pressure of his fingers on my throat and clit. My body obeys his command, convulsing violently as waves of pleasure crash over me. My vision goes white, mouth open in a silent scream as an intense orgasm rips through me.
Just as the edges of my consciousness start to blur, River releases his grip on my throat. Air rushes into my lungs in a desperate gasp, the sudden influx of oxygen intensifying every sensation tenfold. My inner walls clench and flutter around him as aftershocks roll through me.
River doesn't slow his pace, fucking me through my orgasm with savage ferocity. His fingers dig bruisingly into my hips as he chases his own release. I feel boneless, utterly at his mercy as he uses my body for his pleasure.
With a guttural groan, he slams into me one final time, burying himself to the hilt. I feel the hot rush of his release, filling me completely. He collapses against my back, his weight pinning me to the wall as we both struggle to catch our breath.
For several long moments, the only sounds are our ragged breathing and the distant hum of cars and people. The reality of our surroundings slowly filters back in—the coppery scent of blood, the cooling body at our feet, the eerie quiet of the deserted alley.
River pulls out slowly, and I have to bite back a whimper at the loss as I hear the sound of his zipper. He spins me around to face him, his eyes blazing with a possessive fire as he takes in my disheveled state. Without warning, he crashes his lips to mine in a bruising kiss that leaves me breathless all over again.
When he finally pulls back, that wicked grin is back in place. "We can't leave this mess for just anyone to find," he muses, his tone casual as if discussing the weather rather than a corpse. "I'll get Knox to come deal with the body. He's got a knack for making problems... disappear."
He pulls out his phone, fingers flying over the keys as he sends a rapid-fire text. The soft glow illuminates his face, casting eerie shadows that accentuate the sharp planes of his cheekbones and the predatory glint in his eyes.
"There," he says, slipping the phone back into his pocket. He leans down and picks up the discarded knife, casually pulling a cloth from his pocket to wipe it down before he lifts the back of his shirt. His hands are empty again when they reappear, moving to do up the belt that still hangs open at his waist.
He must have some sort of knife holster there.
"Knox will handle this. Now, let's get you presentable, shall we? Then I’ll take you home."
With surprising gentleness, River smooths my dress back down, his fingers lingering on the fabric as if memorizing every curve beneath. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his touch feather-light against my skin. The tenderness of the gesture is a stark contrast to the violence of moments before, leaving me dizzy with the whiplash of emotions.
"There," he murmurs, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "Almost as good as new. Though I do like you a bit... rumpled."
His wicked grin returns full force as he bends to retrieve my scattered groceries. The plastic bags rustle as he gathers them up. It's such a jarringly normal action amidst the surreal horror of the alley that I almost want to laugh. Miraculously there are still some unbroken eggs and half the milk remaining in the carton, but the broken shells crunch sadly and the bag and handle are slick with the spilled milk.
River straightens, grocery bags dangling from one hand as he reaches for me with the other. His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me firmly against his side. Not for the first time, I’m reminded of how much bigger he is; I feel small tucked in against him. The heat of his body seeps into mine, grounding me even as my mind still reels from everything that's transpired.
"Come on, gorgeous," he says, guiding me toward the mouth of the alley. "Let's get you home."
As we step back onto the sidewalk, the warm glow of streetlights feels almost painfully normal. A few cars roll past, their occupants oblivious to the violence we're leaving behind. River's arm remains a steady presence around me, his stride confident and unhurried.
I steal glances at him as we walk, marveling at how utterly calm he seems. There's no trace of the feral energy from moments ago, just an easy smile and relaxed posture. If not for the faint smears of blood still visible on both of our skin, one might think we were just an ordinary couple out for an evening stroll.
The weight of the grocery bags swinging gently in his free hand, the warmth of his body pressed against mine, the quiet hum of the city around us—it all feels surreal. Like a dream I can't quite wake up from. Or maybe I don't want to wake up from it.