Chapter 6 #2
He took a slow, heavy breath in and out before smiling.
The leering, saliva-drenched grin caused my insides to clench down hard with the dreadful knowledge of what he meant.
And what would come next. I thought about calling out, about screaming for help.
But none would come. I was a clippy in a hunters’ market.
The odds were just as good that whoever came would join in instead of help.
“Don’t act shy now,” the hunter urged, oozing his disgusting attempt at charm, trying to coat me in its cloying stickiness as he came a little closer. “You put it all out there for everyone earlier. This should be easier. It’s just you and me now.”
I swallowed. “W-what do you want?”
He snatched one hand and pressed it to my breast. “Touch yourself, clippy. And make it look good.”
The clammy touch of his meaty hands could best be described as a wet towel that stank of mildew being dropped across the skin.
All that was missing was the schlok of it adhering to skin.
I tried to ignore the disgusting sensation.
My life very well could depend on me doing that.
So, against my will, I started to massage my breast.
“Good,” he hissed in low, guttural tones. I could hear his breath as he inhaled deeply through his nose, his mouth hanging wide open. “Use your other hand too. That’s a good girl.”
I closed my eyes, bringing my other hand up to my other breast, the flesh filling my palms and spilling over slightly. Judging by the heavier breathing that followed, the creep liked that. I hated myself. Hated every moment of it.
Behind my lids, I imagined what it would be like if I was one of the elite in disguise. How I would pick my moment before slicing this pathetic asshole’s throat open all the way to his spinal cord. I would watch the life flow out of his eyes and walk away without a care in the world.
But that wasn’t going to happen. Ever. Even with the growling, unhappy lizard awakening and parading through my brain, I was still a clippy.
Still weaker than the hunter who … I heard the sound of a zipper and faster breathing.
Fuck. I slid a hand down my pants while trying to conjure up an image of Emerald-Eyes and what he might actually look like.
If I could keep this creep distracted, put on a good show, maybe he wouldn’t move to the next step.
I called up the first thing I had noticed of Emerald-Eyes. Woodsmoke and a hint of citrus mixed in a heady, near pheromone-drenched cocktail. Even just thinking of him woke my dragon up. She remembered him. Remembered what he was. Who he was.
Mate.
The word flung itself across my consciousness yet again, despite the impossibility of it.
“Good, good.” The hunter’s voice was tighter.
I could hear the slight vibration in it from the movements of his hand. I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t want to see what was there, what he was doing. I knew it all too well.
“Take your top off.”
I froze.
“Don’t you fucking stop now. Take it off,” he growled threateningly.
I grabbed the hem with both hands. My dragon hated it, fighting me along the way. I shouldn’t be doing this, not for someone who wasn’t our mate. He didn’t deserve to see my body. Only my mate did. Only Emerald-Eyes.
I don’t have a choice. You put us on display earlier, you can’t change your mind now. If I don’t, he’ll kill us. We need to keep him distracted until I can find a way out of here.
My dragon still didn’t like it, but she ceased fighting as hard.
Tugging at the hem, I pulled it up over my stomach, trying to ignore the hiss of air from between those far-too-wet thick lips of the hunter as I bared skin for him. Yuck.
Digging deep, I fought for that memory, the only tangible thing I had about my mate besides his eyes.
The smell. That beautifully addicting smell I wanted to wrap myself in and just fall asleep.
I knew it, the impression engraved in my brain now so I could never mistake it again, but try as I might, I couldn’t conjure it up. Couldn’t bring it to the fore.
“I said off!” The impending threat of him taking things into his own control was impossible to miss.
I would much rather remove my own top than be roughly pawed at by the hunter. So, swallowing my dignity, I pulled the shirt higher, starting to expose the underside of my breasts for him, desperately trying to retreat from this world into one where I was with my mate.
I smiled as I smelled him once more, his scent coming to me in a rush, strong and vivid.
If I could just imagine him, I could find a way to survive just a little longer.
Everything would be easier with him at my side.
I inhaled deep and let out a tiny sigh of satisfaction as my imaginary world took over my senses.
A wave of cold pricked at my exposed skin.
“What the fuck?”
I opened my eyes at the hunter’s confusion. He was turning around, dick still in hand.
That was when I heard it. The rumble in the dark corridor behind him. Deeper, more ominous than anything else.
Fresh citrus tingled my sinuses at the same time a pair of glowing emerald eyes appeared from under a hood.
I gasped, the scent stronger still. It couldn’t be …
“She. Is. Mine.”