Chapter 25 Oren
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
OREN
If he wanted to break my wings, he’d have to find me first, and I was excellent at hiding. This wasn’t the first time I’d played a game of cat and mouse, but it was the first time I was the mouse.
I normally did the chasing, each solidified step a throb to my cock, but this?
This feeling of vulnerability was unlike any encounter I’d permitted myself before.
But Thorne was different, and this would be the first time I’d ever let any man tear down the control I maintained to keep my walls from crumbling.
I craved this. A desire so painted in bliss I didn’t mind heading into town alone.
It was either the darkened streets or the desert, and well, sand didn’t sound pleasant. Especially if this was going to end how I planned, although something deep in my chest warned me nothing would go according to my imaginings.
I mean, it was fucking Thorne Graves. I wouldn’t put it past the bastard to show in tactical gear. Not that I’d complain, but he was always… extra.
Extra in the best ways possible, a culmination of his wants and desires molding into mine—a want that solidified my decision to unveil the last thread of my desires to him.
A thread I’d maintained, because it was dangerous to fall, to feel so emotionally connected to someone, but with him those worries melted like oil pastels left in the sun.
My steps echoed in the quiet night as I walked past closed shops, their lights snuffed from the evening. I wasn’t necessarily sure where I was walking to as I headed further into town, but I knew these streets provided more cover than anything in that barren landscape.
Going into a club would be too predictable, and I wanted to make this difficult for Thorne if I could.
The street light flickered above me, a slight breeze shifting the blonde tendrils of hair across my forehead.
I’d forgotten how comforting that feeling was: a sweet reminder of my mom.
That, and the epoxy necklace Simon and Liam had crafted from the pieces of that metal cross.
While I knew it held no value from her, it had a new meaning.
It represented the friends I’d made, their love poured into the shards I now carried with pride for a different reason. A reason I was succumbing to more each day—a feeling of safety, comfort, and love.
I had friends.
I had people to rely on for the first time in my life. Friends I didn’t have to hide behind a mask for. Friends who loved me as endlessly as I did them, who didn’t judge me for past mistakes.
And most of all?
Most of all I had Thorne. Gods above I had him, and I’d never experienced anything this freeing yet confining in my life. I was shackled to him, but comfortable. A unique expression of the turmoil yet healing we’d allowed ourselves.
The blaring bass from the club disrupted my thoughts, and for once, at least it was thoughts that were happy. Not the spiralled mess I was used to.
Running my hand through my hair, I lifted my gaze from the street to my surroundings. How far had I walked while ruminating?
Fuck, I hadn’t paid any attention or observed those around me.
A low groan left my lips as I opened up another button on my shirt, cool air hitting my chest. I needed to collect myself.
I’d dressed rather casually for my standards.
One, because it was still hot, and two, I knew nothing was surviving this evening, and I’d kill him if he ruined a nice fucking outfit.
Tucking the edge of my gray shirt back into my jeans, I narrowed my gaze, the unmistakable anxiety hitting me.
Someone was watching me, the uneasiness turning into a sharp thrill as I licked my bottom lip.
I couldn’t decipher the location, but I knew he was close.
Call it intuition or just the twitch of my cock that had me smirking, but I was ready.
Nothing was predictable, even if I wished it so, and God I was ready to allow chaos to enter me. In more than one way.
Taking a sharp left into one of the abandoned alleyways, I focused on the rise in my breathing. He had to be close; my intuition was strong, and everything was screaming to fucking run.
Before I had the chance to act on instinct, I was ripped from where I stood, a gloved hand wrapping around my mouth.
Thrashing, my movements became useless, his undeniable frame pressing against mine with a refusal to let go.
As he tightened his grip, a deep growl reverberated in his chest, his lips brushing against my ear.
“Found you, dove.”
My heart pounded, and a groan escaped me as all I could do was succumb to him.
Chuckling, the arm around my waist shifted, trailing toward my already hardened cock.
“You were far too easy to find. Too fucking predictable.” He palmed me twice as he stepped forward, his hold over my mouth vanishing only to reappear on the back of my neck as he shoved me against the wall.
“I thought I trained you better than that.”
I grunted, the impact of the wall removing the pleasure I’d received from his hand. “Maybe you spent too much fucking time pining after me to train me. What can I say? I’ve been slacking.”
“Apparently,” he crooned.
He shifted, and the jagged teeth of a utility knife met my throat.
“Here’s the thing,” Thorne continued. “I don’t tolerate brats, and as you’re more than aware, I have no issue marking you, Valens.”
I swallowed, my hips jerking at the command in his voice, but there was no relief to be found. “Me? A brat?”
“Still going to push back against me?” he questioned, unlatching my buckle and tearing the belt from my waist with one yank. “Because I have no issue leaving you in this fucking alleyway exactly as you are—a whiny and needy fucking bitch.”
Craning my neck to the side, a hiss left me from the sting of the knife. “You wouldn’t fucking dare.” I knew the answer, and fuck me, I needed to shut up, but this was fun. God, I was already one step from begging, but this was a game, and to give up so easily wouldn’t make it fun for him either.
“Is that a challenge?” he whispered against my skin, returning his blade to its sheath.
His knee lifted, driving into the back of my leg to keep me in position.
Within a breath, his fingers closed around my wrists, gathering them before bringing them together and forcing them over my head.
The sensation of leather coiled around them, and as the material tightened, I realized he was using the article of clothing once responsible for keeping my pants up to tie me to a pipe on the side of the building.
I yanked on its hold, but just like him, it was perfect.
With my next breath, he fisted the back of my shirt and yanked. Buttons popped, fabric tearing as he freed my upper half from confinement, the night air gracing my sweat-laden skin.
“Fuck,” I muttered, a shudder running through me as I twisted to look back, but it was impossible to catch a glance. “You would be into tearing clothing,” I said with a slight hum.
Instead of being met with a reply, the sharpened tip of his knife returned, this time trailing down my back with enough pressure to draw blood.
His other hand reached around me, fiercely grabbing my length.
Rolling his wrist, he coaxed me twice. At the same time, he lapped up my back from just beneath my shoulder blade to my neck, gathering the life force he’d summoned from my skin.
My head snapped back, a groan escaping my lips as my hips bucked from his touch, chasing more of him.
The pain from the knife was small compared to the anguish at being unable to turn around and see him, touch him, feel him.
To be so utterly useless had my mind silencing yet screaming at the same time.
As if he could somehow read my thoughts, his fingers secured a hold around my jaw, forcing my face to the side.
His caramelized gaze met me, brows hooding to darken the vibrant honeyed hues lingering within his irises.
Leaning down to match my height, his forearm rested against the brickwall, but it wasn’t his towering frame or positioning that sent a jolt of pleasure to my cock, it was the balaclava concealing his features.
He was masked, in an alleyway, about to fuck me.
“What was it you said?” he crooned, spinning the utility knife between his fingers. “Or more so… How did you elect to doubt me?”
“Doubt you?” My tongue swiped across my bottom lip, and I wished I could see his face beneath the mask. “I think I’m anything but yours at the moment.” That was a lie. All I wanted to feel was him, and the pounding in my chest agreed because all control was gone. I was at his mercy, completely.
Shaking his head, he laughed, shoving my head away from him. “Wrong answer.”
I expected his hands, the blade, something, but only the night air brushed against my skin. The audible shift of booted feet on asphalt followed, the steps very clearly moving away from me.
There was no way this man was fucking leaving.
Panic brewed, a small ember I tried to snuff because he wouldn’t. It was simply a trick, and I swallowed the uneasiness in my timbre. “Thorne?”
His reply hit a part of me that I didn’t know existed. “See you back at base, Valens.”
See you back at base.
My throat tightened, and I tugged on the belt holding me. Fuck, it wasn’t budging. “T-This isn’t funny.” I twisted my head, a stupid cry leaving me at the impossibility of turning to face him.
A trick. A trick. It’s a fucking trick.
“You’re playing, Thorne. You wouldn’t fucking leave me here.” Despite the anger spewing from my lips, a shiver coaxed itself up my spine at the silence brewing in the darkness.
“I warned you,” he stated calmly, almost too calmly, his footsteps becoming quieter with each passing second.
He was leaving me. He was… leaving me.