Chapter 12 OLIVIA #3
The amber lit candles. The wilting velvet flower petals.
The soft caress of the white blanket against my naked body.
We gave life to that abandoned cabin. We blanketed the emptiness with hope and trust and passion.
That was our night. A special moment that will forever be engraved into the fabric of my soul.
He didn’t just take my virginity. He made love to me.
We never told each other those three little words.
How could we have when we never even stood a chance against my stubborn need to remain a secret.
But I knew it then, those words felt way too big to ignore.
I thought I wanted to say them as we made love, but I felt too vulnerable.
I was worried it was only the heat of the moment that was causing me to feel so emotional for him.
But as he took my virginity that night—slow, deep thrusts to prove to me just how much I really did belong to him—I fell even harder for this ghost of a person now tainted with some kind of desire to hurt me; a pain that he’s suffering from and intends to make it my own.
I slam my hand against the titled wall. Pain and anger and confusion and hatred all tangle together. I need to know why.
After leaving the cabin that night, after soul searing moments that led me to believe he was my heaven on earth, I had hope for my future with him.
Hoped that he was right and that Seren and everyone would come around.
I even hoped that Deck would get his shit together after that night, finally listening to me and heeding my advice to him.
Everything felt possible when I was in his arms.
And then terror struck. Terror that is blank in my mind only remembering the moments of bliss I had experienced.
And I never spoke to Trace again.
I shake my head as I try to block it all out. Why couldn’t I have torn that memory from the surface as well? It hurts too fucking much.
Why didn’t he come back for me? Why did he disappear?
I was already scared of letting him in, knowing that even then he was the only one powerful enough to break me apart from the inside and right now, he seems to be doing just that; hell bent on hunting me down for reasons unbeknownst to me.
What could be reason enough for his torment? And why torture me with his words the way he did?
What would I find if I slipped my hand under this skirt?
Are you wet for me, Olivia?
Does this turn you on?
I hate the way that I felt aroused as he held me against my will. Though, I suppose I didn’t really put up a good enough fight to try and evade him. God, I’m demented for actually wanting him to touch me. Almost to the point of being disgusted with myself. But his fingers were so close and…
I freeze when I realize my own fingers are inadvertently sliding between my thighs, reaching for the ache that pulses at my core. I quickly pull them away as soon as I feel myself brushing my clit with my finger.
No. He does not get pleasure out of me. He’s not the same Trace I knew. The one I was planning to run away with. The way who made my heart lurch out of my chest with a sense of adoration and safety and love.
Now, he’s just a shadow of that person. And I’m sure if I had the chance to really look into his eyes earlier, I’d see no history of who he was when I gave myself to him. The man I fell so fucking hard for.
I won’t let him toy with me. He’s either going to have to tell me straight up what the hell his problem is or he’s going to leave me alone.
The water now runs cold so I pull my fingers through my hair one last time before deciding to wrap up the shower. With my eyes closed, I lean down and reach for the handle to turn the water off, but instead, I find myself touching…
“What the-”
I shoot up, springing my eyes open and catching a glimpse of what looks like a skeleton hand, but in a flash my mouth is covered and I’m being thrown up against the wall.
I can’t scream and I can’t move. Fear—not the kind that confronts me sensually but actual fucking fear—fizzles against my skin.
“What’s the matter, little reckless? You’re not scared, are you?”
Trace.
The voice of a dark angle corrupted by beautiful nightmares. A dark sea curling a vicious wave and crashing down, threatening destruction against everything he touches.
How the fuck did he get in here?
I try to move my hands out from under me but the front my body is crushed to the cold tiles lining the bathroom wall. His fully clothed body is pressed against me and while one of his hands is cupping my mouth shut, the other is…
Fear grips me even tighter when I feel something like cold metal skate across the side of my thigh, slowly making its ascent up toward my hip. I try to turn my head down to see what it is, but I’m immobilized and I can’t do anything but hope to god that he really doesn’t plan to hurt me.
“You thought locking the door would keep me out, did you, Olivia?”
His breath hits the side of my neck as he leans into me from behind.
“Don’t you know that monsters usually hide under the bed?
” I try to scream, kick, move, do fucking anything but his chuckle reaches me in an impossible mixture of depravity and something far more deranged than I’m capable of accepting.
Something that should be the absolute opposite of what I feel when his dark, heated tone feathers against my skin.
He’s been here the whole time and he’s got me right where he wants me.
I try to shove my body against him again, pushing myself up off the wall, but I only budge as much as he allows me to.
“That won’t do much, Livie. No one will hear you even if I remove my hand.” He clicks his tongue and I burn with the fury to know what the fuck is going through his hollow head right now.
Suddenly, I’m yanked back; the front of my body now greeting the cold spray of the water as Trace’s hand still covers my mouth. He presses so hard that the back of my head falls back into his chest and I’m stuck in his hold. But my hands are finally free.
I reach back to grab at him, hit him, anything, but then the cold metal of whatever object he wields presses into my belly button and I freeze.
“You look so cute trying to fight against me, Reckless. But you have to know that it turns me the fuck on.”
He presses his center into my bare ass and I feel the unmistakable size of his hard cock.
My body wars with the feeling, remembering how fucking cherished he’d once made me feel.
But now, he’s hurting me. Or at least I have to convince myself that he is.
But regardless, he’s getting off on my pain and I hate him for it.
And I hate myself for liking that he’s hard for me. Because I can’t deny it, I do like it.
I try to move my eyes down to get a glimpse at the object in his hands, needing to see what it is moving closer and closer to my naked center.
But my head is trapped against the pressure of his hold on me and even though I technically can use my hands to continue to fight him off, something tells me I might want to hold still.
Trace takes a step back. My body starts to shiver from the icy temperature of the water.
I hope he’s taking us out of this small space, but I deflate when I realize he’s only positioning the front of my body directly in the line of the water, causing the spray of the shower to rain down against my belly.
Why the hell is he doing this? I shake myself, groaning against his hand.
The burn from his grip mixed with the genuine fear of the unknown sends adrenaline pumping through my veins.
And though I know that I should be without a doubt terrified, I can’t deny the wave of heat that pummels me, shooting down my spine and caressing my insides as if I’m not being held against my will.
My body’s reaction is my biggest fucking flaw right now, signaling every mixed emotion to every greedy nerve ending and creating this raw feeling of euphoric terror. I’m trapped and it turns me on.
“Here’s what we’re going to do, Olivia.” Trace’s voice is a low grumble but I can tell it’s free of his mask.
“I don’t have a lot of time before my attention is needed elsewhere.
And while I had only planned to watch you, you made a grave mistake.
You see,” he chuckles, “I saw you touch yourself just now and I need to know what this pretty little head of yours was thinking about as you were about to give in to whatever desire you were feeling. And as much as I’d like to hear you tell me with your words, I don’t want to risk some nosey little fucker walking by and interrupting us.
Because that would mean I’d have to shoot them. ”
I shake my head, feeling the hazard in his tone.
“You do not have a gun.” I try to argue, not wanting to believe him, but of course, my words come out muffled against his hand. My heart flys off a fucking cliff as I hear him chuckle. Why would he have a gun?
“Are you calling me a liar?” he asks, indicating that he understood what I said. Suddenly, the object that presses against my belly leaves me and my whole body freezes as a bullet flies through the air.
“Hollow points,” he states matter-of-factly and the sound of gunshot rings in my ears as I flounder against him.
“Ah, ah,” he coos maniacally as he presses the gun back against my stomach, trying to get me to calm down.
But I immediately bend at the searing pain; the heat of the muzzle heats up my skin but it only lasts a moment before the freezing cold water greets me and causes a symphony of fire and ice to caress me.
A crashing course of pain and pleasure.
I feel a tear escape my eye but I steel myself, his cock still pressed firmly into my ass as I attempt to relax against him.
Part of me is hopeful that he won’t actually bring me severe harm, that he still cares about me just enough to let me go.
But if it’s not for that, then I can only survive this because of me, so my only choice is to cooperate.
“As I was saying, I’m going to keep my hand here.” He tightens his grip on my mouth and the pain starts to fuck with my vision, but I do my best to keep the steady breathing I’ve been able to manage through my nose as he continues.
“And I’m going to ask you what it was that caused you to want to touch yourself. Your job is to simply shake your head yes or no.”
I hate that Trace’s voice brings me a modicum of comfort, even though I can hear the apparent darkness that coats his timbre; something that wasn’t as present all those years ago.
But knowing that Trace has a ruthless side is not something new, though right now, he’s not being ruthless.
He’s being predatory. Cold-blooded. Savage.
What the fuck kind of game is this? I try to wiggle against him, needing to try and free myself even though I know he holds a gun to my skin, but he only chuckles again—an alarming sound given the circumstance—and I know it’s because my efforts only act as friction for him; my body moving against his cock.
And boy, can I fucking feel it.
Trace moves the muzzle of the gun up my body, letting the steel object graze my skin lightly as he goes and I am such a sicko for the way my body allows the sensual caress of goosebumps to form in its wake; betraying me as the tip of it reaches my pert nipples.
I try everything in my power to not show him what that fleeting touch does to me, regardless of the fact that the object providing me the slightest bit of arousal is a loaded gun with the fucking safety off, as he’s proven.
“Oh, my love,” Trace whispers nefariously into my ear.
“Do you see the way your body is already reacting to me? And we haven’t even fucking started.
” He leans in further and swipes his tongue up the side of my neck and I have the fucking audacity to let a moan slip past the barrier of his iron grip. He crows in satisfaction.
“I’m going to enjoy making a mess out of you, Olivia Winters.”