16. Chapter 11
The door bursts open, slamming into the plaster wall, the sound reverberating through the room like a thunder clap. I lose my grip on the chair and it falls with a loud crack and skids to a stop next to the window.
His massive body fills the entire doorway, nothing but a black shadow, chest heaving, like some dark, demonic creature. I stumble back, terror gripping my throat with sharp claws, raking down, cutting into my chest, stealing my breath. My back hits the heavy curtains, gaze locked on the mask with the melting face and the piercing black eyes that stare at me with murderous intent.
I was right. They are watching my every move.
And they aren’t far away.
“You’ve got my attention,” he growls. “But I think you may regret it.”
Reaper prowls forward, movements graceful, his long legs eating up the space between us. I shrink back, ill prepared for the level of hatred rattling out of him in heavy breaths as he stalks toward me.
A tendril of fear slithers up my spine, coiling around my neck. My eyes dart to the open door, my heart beating wildly. Before he’s across the room, I leap toward the bed, using the blankets to help pull myself over it, eyes locked on the open door. When I land, my socks slip, but I grip the mattress and remain upright. Behind me, Reaper grates out a low rumbling growl, and before I can take another step, he lunges in front of me, blocking the door. My ass lands back on the mattress, dread pooling like ice in my belly.
Fuck, he’s furious.
“What was your plan, Kitten?” he snarls, inching closer as I scramble back on the bed, reaching for the fork in my sock. “Break the window and jump?”
With an angry roar, he lunges forward and I raise the fork, moving solely on instinct and aiming for his neck. Onyx eyes gleam as he latches on to my wrist, twisting my arm, forcing it behind me. I scream as pain shoots through my shoulder, my grip loosening. The fork clatters to the floor at our feet. Reaper releases my wrist as I spin to stop the agony in my arm. His hand clamps over my mouth, his other arm locking around my waist, dragging me back against his solid chest. My head slams back into his shoulder, my teeth hitting my bottom lip under his large palm, covering half my face.
“Stabbing?” The word scrapes out, laced with fury, the deep guttural sound shivering through my body. “You’re going to have to do better than a fucking fork.”
Heart hammering, I reach up behind me, my fingers seeking his eye sockets. He growls when my index finger digs into the corner of his eye, then rakes down his cheek, catching the fabric of his mask. My figures curl around the cutout and I tug. Forced to release my mouth, he grips my arm, but his mask rips from his head and falls to the floor. He releases me, grasping my hair by the roots and shoves me forward so violently my shins slam into the metal bed frame as he throws me face down across the bed. His massive hand pushes my face down into the mattress as he hooks his other arm around my elbow, then grips my free arm, pinning both to my spine. Reaper falls forward, hips keeping me in place, his chest heaving with ragged breaths against my back.
“Naughty, naughty little kitten,” he grates.
Tucking my chin, I suck in air, my hair sliding down around my face in slashes, obscuring my vision. I can’t see him behind me, but feel every solid muscle, his huge male frame trapping me.
“Get off!” I scream, bucking my hips to push him off, but he’s too big. If anything, my movements drive his…
My entire body stills, every single nerve ending snapping to focus right where his dick presses into my ass crack. Slick heat floods my core. He’s so hard I can feel every inch of him straining against his pants through my flimsy dress. My body lights up, skin sizzling with awareness, remembering him like this. Taking me from behind. Taking my pleasure for himself until it no longer belonged to me.
Until I didn’t belong to me anymore.
A low, raspy sound slips from him with a rush of air, brushing against my flesh like he’s remembering too. For a second we remain still, sucking in lungful’s, the air popping with electricity. I’m breathing so hard moisture makes the blanket stick to my face, each ragged inhale sucking strands of my hair into my mouth.
I squeeze my eyes shut, hating how my body betrays me. How I can feel every inch of him, his cruel grip in my hair and his arm looped around my elbows, locking me in place.
How I like the weight of him on top of me.
“Get off me,” I say again, but it sounds like a plea instead of a demand. He sucks in sharply when I squirm, my ass digging into him again. I clench my teeth. Between my legs throbs, and I choke on all the rage singeing my chest. He did this to me. Confused my body. Confused my mind. They did this. Unfurled something inside me, then used it to cut me open.
“What were you going to do once you broke that window?” Reaper whispers, his lips brushing the flesh of my ear. Woodsy smoke and male flood my senses. “Run?”
He somehow makes the single word sound like a threat.
“You were going to leave your friend?”
“Never,” I hiss, arching my back, but it just drives his dick into me harder.
“Then what?” he asks. “Save her?” He presses my head further down into the mattress, mashing my face to the blanket. “Did you plan to fight your way through us with your little fork? Then what, Kitten? Tell me what you hoped to achieve with this little stunt?”
When I struggle, gasping for air, he eases his grip. I suck in a breath and say, “It fucking got you in here.”
He stills, but his weight doesn’t leave. For a second I regret my words, thinking that I’ve pissed him off so much he may hurt me, but then he says, “Negative attention isn’t always good attention. I should punish you for being such a brat.”
“Fuck you,” I seethe, unable to control myself. Not my best response, but it’s all my scrambled brain comes up with.
“Oh Kitten,” he rasps. “I’m not going to fuck you again until you’re weeping, begging, and crawling toward me on hands and knees, your pretty pink pussy so wet, it’s dripping down your thighs.”
The hand pinning my head to the bed leaves, and lands next to my face, long fingers splayed out, but I don’t dare move. Between the strands of my hair fanning my face, I see tanned skin covered in black ink with slashes of faded red. Roses and skulls with black vines twisting around them. My heart slams in my chest, aware I’m seeing a part of him. Something he’s kept hidden until right now because I forced him.
I can’t help but wonder how many people his hands have killed.
I don’t linger on why that thought sends a dark shiver down my spine to my core
His hand leaves and Reaper shifts at my backside. I hear the recognizable clink of a belt coming undone and disbelief washes through me.
“I thought you guys didn’t force,” I say, hating how dread makes my voice crack.
He doesn’t answer. I cry out, more from fear than anything, when he repositions himself when he brings my wrists together and warm leather slips around them. When I realize what he’s doing, I choke on a scream, jerking in his grasp, trying to break free.
His heavy weight returns, dick once again digging into me. “Stop,” he growls in my ear.
I still, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing I’m terrified. My father’s name has caged me, yes, but it provided a level of protection no one ever dared cross. My body has never been touched without my consent, if anything I’ve craved attention. Craved being touched, craved being desired and wanted.
“I should spank your ass raw.” There’s something in his voice that makes me freeze. Something raw and jagged. Like sand slipping through broken teeth. “Then spank that pretty pussy until you come for me.”
I bite my lip, the images he just planted, taking over all thought.
Reaper loosens his grip on the belt looped around my wrists, and I feel his hand land on my waist. My breath sucks in when it slips down, his fingers dipping into my dress, feeling the curve of my hips, then slide lower to my thigh. Gathering the thin fabric, he lifts my dress slowly, the silk slipping over my skin until it’s bunched at my waist and my ass is exposed. A warm, calloused hand glides over my hip and he squeezes it roughly. Possessively.
I bite my lip to stop the sound I want to make from slipping out. My breath rattles from my lungs on a slow exhale as his warm fingers dig into my skin. I don’t know what I was expecting. I knew damn well that escaping was going to be impossible, but wanted one of them in here. I want answers.
“Why do you want revenge on my father?” I ask, tensing, waiting for his harsh words or his rough hands, but he gives me neither.
Nails dig into my flesh for a second, then leave. “He took something important from me.”
So they took something important from Rune. Me. Cora.
“What?” I ask “What did he take?”
I’m not stupid enough to think he’ll tell me, but I am surprised when he lets go of my arms. I’m even more shocked when I feel both his hands drag down my outer thighs, fingertips skittering along my skin delicately like butterfly wings. The softness of his touch sends a slick heat between my legs and my heart picks up pace. He didn’t touch me like this before. He didn’t really touch me at all.
I curl my fingers around the leather belt binding my wrists, needing something to hold on to as I sense him kneeling behind me, his hot breath fanning over my cold flesh. His hands, his breath, feel like fire lancing over my flesh.
Reaper’s fucked me, come inside me, but never really touched me. The way his hands slip up my thigh, lightly moving over my ass, feels more intimate than when he was fucking me over the back of that couch.
His fingers outline the dimples in my lower back so gently, my breathing stops entirely.
The need to see him, know what his eyes look like as he touches me this way, if that brutal gleam has left, if they’re a softer black like satin sheets or still hard as ice, makes me want to sit up, but I know if I try he’ll pin me back down and whatever this is, whatever gentleness he’s feeding me will stop. And I don’t know if I want it to.
When he hooks a finger under the waistband of my panties, I clench my jaw to stop a whimper from escaping. Then he gathers the material in a fist and yanks up, tugging it between my ass cheeks. I cry out at the sting, at his sudden roughness, of the feeling of the fabric drawn tightly over my pussy.
“Are you wet for me, little Kitten?” he rasps. “I know your pussy remembers me.”
Then there’s warm flesh and hot breaths on my skin, and his nose slides down my ass crack. I gasp at the intrusion and then grit my teeth when he yanks me up higher, forcing me on my tiptoes. Reaper’s fist presses harder into my lower back, my hips angling upward for him. His nose dips lower and I feel him press it into the fabric outlining my pussy. And then he breathes in deeply.
My chest heats, my hands releasing the leather and splaying out at the sensation of his nose on me. Of him gathering my scent into his chest. Everything in me pulses as he rubs his nose over me again, like he’s savoring the wetness and smell and heat of my cunt.
“Fucking pervert,” I bite out, even as I tilt my hips to meet him, silently cursing my body and the fabric that’s keeping us separated.
“I am,” he rasps. “And so are you. You’re soaked.”
I cry out when he presses his mouth to my pussy, a low groan escaping him with a hot breath. His teeth scrape over me. Then he bites. I hiss at the sting of pain, mixed with feral pleasure that bite zings through me.
“I need you to be a good girl,” he grates out, forehead hitting my ass, rocking back and forth, his breath fanning over my heated flesh. “I’m not a nice man, Kitten. And I have a long memory. If you cross me, I’ll make you pay.”
The gravelly way he says it makes me believe him. Reaper stands, letting my underwear go, and backs away. I arch my back, pressing my face further into the mattress, fighting the urge to turn my head to look at him. If I do, I could identify him, and I know they’d never allow that.
He undoes the belt, slowly unwrapping it from around my wrists. “Next time you seek my attention, be prepared for the consequences.”
Gripping the edge of the bed, I slide to my knees as the door clicks shut. I spin, my eyes landing on the doorknob, waiting for the grating sound of the lock sliding into place.
But it never comes.