Chapter 5
YELENA
This time, there’s no masks when I turn to face Achilles. This time, the full power in his gorgeously sculpted face and brooding, dark gaze pierces my flesh as he looms over me.
Previously, if you’d asked me to pick one of The Untouchables to meet alone at night on the edge of the woods, it would have been Achilles Drakos.
Hands down.
He’s the safe, charming, gorgeous heir to the Drakos empire with the million-dollar smile and movie-star looks.
President of Para Bellum.
Chancelor’s list honor student.
Captain of the Privateers, Knightsblood’s unbeaten football team.
Always making headlines for founding new charities in New York City.
But that was before I realized that he was the masked monster with a knife from last night.
I shudder violently, my chest tightening around my lungs and heart as I stare through the darkness at him. He’s in black jeans and zip-up sweatshirt, the hood framing his face like a vampiric cowl.
“I—”
My words choke off as he slowly prowls toward me.
“I…I don’t think we—”
“Don’t.” His voice is low, with a honeyed smoothness to it.
I gulp, trying to keep my own voice from shaking when I speak again.
“Don’t what—”
“Lie about last night,” he growls with an amused lilt. “You’ll just embarrass yourself.”
Heat rushes to my face.
He can’t KNOW that was me. I was wearing a mask. I barely even said a word.
“I don’t know what you’re—”
I gasp quietly as he starts to eat up the space between us. The heels of my sneakers scuff across the gravel path as I stumblingly retreat, until with a jolt, I feel my back bump against the trunk of one of the gnarled old trees beside it.
Achilles doesn’t slow down. He finally stops right in front of me, caging me against the tree at my back. His sheer towering size blots out the crescent moon behind him, bathing his perfect, chiseled face in an eerie shadow.
My throat works as I try to find my words—even one word. When nothing comes from my slightly parted lips, Achilles chuckles quietly.
“No? Nothing at all about last night you want to discuss?”
Even shadowed, there’s a dark gleam in his eyes as he peers down at me.
“Why don’t we start with the fact that you could get in a lot of trouble for sneaking around the third floor of Kingsward Hall uninvited.”
My jaw falls open.
“It’s private, and was clearly marked—”
“I could get in a lot of trouble?!” I finally spit, indignation making my ears ring as heat floods my face. “You assaulted me!”
I flinch when he barks out a cold, mirthless laugh.
“Is that what you’ve been telling yourself?”
I stare at him. “It’s what happened!”
He’s right, though. It is what I’ve been telling myself, in a vain attempt to convince myself that what happened last night was bad.
That I didn’t enjoy it. Because no one should enjoy that.
“How interesting,” he murmurs darkly. “I remember things a bit differently.”
He moves another inch closer, my breath hitching as the heat of his body warms mine, and his scent—so spicy and masculine—washes over me.
“The way I see it, it was you who assaulted me.”
My eyes bug out as I stare up at him, angry confusion swirling through me.
“What?!” I choke. “You jumped me in a dark bedroom!” I hiss. “You chased me with a fucking knife! You... You touched me—!”
“And you let me do so,” he growls. “Even when it became abundantly clear that I thought you were someone else.”
“W-what?!” I stammer. “I did not—”
“You either thought a masked stranger was chasing you through the dark with a knife and you let that happen, which would make you…well…” His head tilts to the side, and he smiles darkly. “Deranged.”
Heat simmers in my core.
“Or else you clearly knew I thought you were someone else, given that I reminded you of our pre-determined safe word—”
“We didn’t have a pre-determined—”
Shit.
“Exactly,” Achilles murmurs, waving a finger between his chest and mine. “We did not. Any rational person would have put being in a room to which they were not invited together with a masked man talking to them about safe words they’d never discussed before and connected the fucking dots.”
I shudder as he steps another inch closer to me, my back pressed tight to the gnarled bark of the tree. Despite the fall chill in the air, sweat sheens the small of my back as my hands nervously ball to fists.
“I—” A shiver ripples up my spine. “I was terrified!”
“So terrified that your greedy pussy came all over my fingers? That’s…inventive.”
My eyes narrow. “You chased me with a fucking knife! I couldn’t remember the safe word!”
Not at first…
Achilles’ brows raise, amused. “Bullshit.”
“I couldn’t!” I blurt. “In fact, I still can't—”
My words cut off sharply when he pulls the same knife from last night out from behind his back. His hand snaps up, and a cold spark of fear jolts through my center as he brings the sharp edge of the blade right against my throat.
“Say the fucking safe word.”
“Thunder!” I immediately reply in a choked, harried voice. “Thunder!”
Achilles smiles darkly, his eyes piercing mine as the seconds tick by.
“Ahh, so you do remember it.”
He keeps his hand right where it is for another few moments, the cold steel resting lightly on my trembling skin.
A lightheaded feeling melts over me. An electric sensation skips over my skin, then slowly spreads down my neck and to my chest. I shudder as my nipples and core tighten, heat blooming deep inside me.
I let out a rushing exhale as Achilles calmly pulls his hand away from my throat, letting the knife rest at his side. My eyes drop to the glinting edge as he slowly twirls it in his hand.
I don’t want to think why he brought a knife with him when he was clearly out here looking for me.
“Maybe I brought it for protection,” he murmurs, seeing where my gaze has landed. “Maybe I knew I was meeting the predator who assaulted me and wanted to guard myself.”
My gaze snaps to his.
“You know that’s not true,” I hiss. “You motherfu—”
My heart lurches into my throat as Achilles suddenly wraps his hand around my neck and pins me hard against the tree. His massive body invades my personal space until his hard chest is pressed right to mine, and my terrified eyes are staring up into his brutal scowl.
“What I know,” he murmurs darkly, “is that I could force you to your knees right now and use that lying mouth until my cum is dribbling down your chin.”
Adrenaline and fear burn in my veins. But defiance is there, too.
I’m not a victim. I’m a fucking De Luca.
My chin juts out, my throat working against his grip as I stare up into his face.
“Do your worst,” I snap through clenched teeth.
Achilles chuckles in genuine amusement.
“So fucking brave,” he muses. “Or so fucking stupid.”
“I made a mistake, okay!?” I hurl at him.
“Yes. You did.”
My pulse spikes when he leans down. For one jarring moment, I think he’s about to kiss me. Instead, his lips ghost past my cheek, his breath hot in my ear.
“And that mistake was catching my attention,” he whispers.
A jolt of warm poison surges through my core.
“But now, little prey, I have questions.”
I gasp quietly, inhaling cool air as he loosens his grip on my throat and stands upright.
I’m still eyeing the knife in his other hand, so I don’t see what he pulls out of his pocket until the red lace thong is dangling right in front of my face, the one from Jane Doe’s suitcase that Damiano stole from the police evidence room.
“Questions like what the fuck you were doing hiding your panties in Lochlan’s bedroom.”
I search desperately for an answer, because there’s no way I’m telling this psycho the truth—that Lochlan Kildare’s bedroom used to be Kyle’s bedroom, last year, when he was still at Knightsblood. And that I knew Kyle would be staying in his old room…
When I keep drawing a blank, Achilles’ eyes slowly narrow.
“Answer me.”
“I—”
Nope, still nothing.
“Let’s try jogging your memory, shall we?”
I don’t even realize what’s happening until an electric sensation zaps through my core. In one swift motion, Achilles wedges his knee between my legs, pries them open, then slips his hand under the hem of my skirt.
…holding the knife.
Alarm bells go off in my head as he quickly jerks his arm up, and before I can even process it, the back, dull edge of his hunting knife is pressed right to my panties, nestled against my pussy.
My eyes bulge, and the sharp, silent scream dies in my throat when Achilles’ thick fingers wrap around my windpipe.
“I asked you a question, little prey,” he growls.
I gasp, my legs shaking and my toes curling in my sneakers as he lifts the knife a bit higher, putting more pressure on my core. I can feel the hard, flat metal ridge of the back of the knife pressing between my lips, and my eyes fly to his.
There’s no mercy in them. No escape. Nothing but cold, almost amused indifference.
My mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
“Tell me,” he murmurs.
Then his knife starts to move. Subtly at first—so much so that I don’t realize he’s doing it until he adds more pressure.
Then I very much do feel the hard, flat ridge of his knife sawing back forth through my seam.
He angles the hilt a little more, and a horrifyingly mortifying sound rattles from my throat as the ridge rubs over my clit.
It's a moan.
Every molecule in my body tries to pull it back into my throat. But it’s already out there. Already hanging like an admission between us, turning the corners of his lips up in a dark, amused smirk.
“What were you doing in there, Yelena,” Achilles growls quietly. His arm muscles ripple as he keeps sawing the flat edge of his knife back and forth between my legs.
This is fucking deranged.
This is sick.
I’m sick.
Because as the friction of his knife rubbing my clit through my panties intensifies, my nipples tighten to points. My thighs begin to clench.
And…God help me…
I start to get wet.
“Why the fuck were you hiding your panties for Lochlan?”
The knife rubs harder. My hands fly to his arm, trying to shove it away from between my legs. But his forearm feels like steel when I grip it, and no matter how hard I try, his arm doesn’t budge.
The knife keeps grinding. Rubbing. Shattering my defenses.
“Tell me why you were leaving your panties for him, and maybe I’ll let this greedy pussy come.”
My cheeks flush. “I’m not enjoying this,” I snap, praying that the heat on my face isn’t as obvious as it feels. Hoping that he can’t tell how wet I am.
I whimper when he leans down again, his lips ghosting up the side of my jaw and his teeth raking over my earlobe. I release a needy, broken sound that I can’t stop when he does it again, nipping my ear as he starts to rub my clit faster with the flat of his knife.
“But you are, Yelena,” he murmurs darkly. “Just like when I pinned you to the wall and felt this needy, drippy pussy come all over my fingers. Is that what you want to do again, little prey?” he purrs into my ear as my eyes roll back and my core utterly liquifies. “Come for me?”
“Get off—!”
“That’s just what I’m trying to do,” he murmurs, the rough, masculine tone humming through my system, making my breath catch and my thighs quiver.
“Get you off. But if you want me to do that, you’d better tell me the truth,” he hisses, rubbing harder.
“And you’d better tell me before I change my mind. ”
My whole face caves, and my breathing turns ragged as he starts to quickly flick the back of his knife back and forth over my throbbing clit. My panties are fucking soaked as they mold to my pussy and slide wetly under his knife.
A masked stranger was chasing you through the dark with a knife and you let that happen, which would make you…well…deranged.
He’s right.
There’s something very wrong with me.
Because as much as the rational part of me wants to scream, or twist away in horror, or beg him to stop…none of that happens.
Not even close.
All I can focus on is the needy pulse between my legs as this psychopath uses a knife to turn me into a puddle.
“Not Lochlan!” I blurt, my fingering digging into the rippling iron of his forearm as he rubs the knife back and forth. “It… It wasn’t for Lochlan!”
Achilles’s dark eyes glint like liquid midnight as he leans closer, his forehead touching mine and his gaze slicing into my soul.
“Then WHO.”
“Kyle!”
The name spits like poison from my lips.
“I—I thought Kyle Santoro was staying in that bedroo—”
The knife goes completely still.
His arm stops moving.
The black liquid of his eyes slowly freezes over. And before I know what’s happening, he’s pulling away.
The knife slips from between my thighs, and my skirt drapes back down to cover my panties.
Cool air dances over my heaving chest as he steps away, taking his heat and his scent with him.
I stare up at his suddenly cold face in utter confusion.
“I—I don’t—”
Achilles turns away. I swallow, my legs still shaking, my pulse still racing, my core still mortifyingly achy, and my panties still clinging to my wet pussy.
He tucks the knife into the back of his jeans and then reaches out, snatching my necklace from where it’s still hanging from a branch. He turns back to me, grabs my clammy hand, yanks it out, palm up, and drops the necklace into it.
The whole scene goes silent.
“N…now what?” I croak quietly.
“Now, Yelena,” Achilles growls with an edge and lethality in his voice that sends a ripple chasing up my spine. “You scurry back to your little life.”
My brow knits.
“So… Th-that’s it?” I whisper.
His dark eyes flay me open until I feel more exposed than I did when he cut my bra away and had his fingers inside me.
“No, little prey,” he laughs darkly. “That was only the beginning.”
Without another word he turns and melts into the night, leaving me shaking, mortified, and desperately trying to hold onto my sanity.