Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Luna
The cold steel edge of the blade bites into my skin, sending a shiver of paralyzing dread spiraling through my body.
I’ve faced down dangerous predators multiple times in my life, but none of them scared me the way this man does.
Not even the three-hundred-pound grizzly that almost mauled me last year, nor the lion that attacked our safari camp while Grandpa and I were celebrating my acceptance into the CSU Fort Collins’ veterinary program.
Five people died that night before one of our safari guides put it down.
So, I consider myself pretty courageous when it comes to fear, most of the time, as much as anyone can. But I’ve never had a knife pressed against my throat before. One wrong move could be fatal.
He lets the knife fall away, just enough for my shoulders to slump in relief, before his cock presses hard and unyielding against my stomach, reminding me that safety is a lie.
“How tonight goes is entirely up to you, little doe.”
Cold spreads through my limbs. My legs shake, threatening to give out.
That silver wolf mask, both beautiful and terrible, hovers above me, its hollow eye sockets swallowing whatever emotion might lie behind them. His gaze, though unseen, claws into me with the promise of violence.
His hand clamps around my hip, dragging me from the wall, spinning me around. Each backward step brings the bed closer. The knife flashes again, cold and sharp under my chin, forcing my head up. Blood roars in my ears, my pulse so savage I half expect it to spray crimson all over him.
“You’re much too smart to try anything foolish.”
My mind races like a frantic squirrel trapped in a cage as I grasp for any escape. Shadow’s betrayal stings, a hot lash of confusion and pain. Why would my protector trust him? Can’t he sense the malice rolling off this man in waves?
The backs of my knees hit the mattress. He shoves me, and I collapse onto the bed, my arms flailing for purchase and finding only tangled sheets.
He’s on me before I can scramble away, one knee digging into the mattress between my thighs.
The springs groan, and I twist away, but he’s too strong, his grip unyielding as he seizes my wrists, pinning them above my head.
I thrash beneath him, legs kicking out, but it’s useless. His grip is iron.
He leans down until cold metal brushes my cheek, his lips hovering beside my ear.
“I said, don’t do anything stupid.”
His scent fills my nostrils—clean, musky, and male. It’s the same as last night, a dark pull beneath the fear. I thought it was cologne, but now I don’t know, and even through my terror, I can’t resist its lure.
But I push back against the want, feeding on fear and fury instead.
“I’m not going to let you rape me without a fight.”
Tears threaten to spill. I force my eyes shut, building walls behind my lids. I won’t give him my tears.
He laughs, and it’s a low, vibrating sound that skitters down my neck. “When the time comes for you to take my cock, you’re going to be begging me for it.”
“Not likely, asshole.”
I twist my wrists against his hold, but his grip only tightens. The blade whispers along my jaw, tracing a path down my throat. Every muscle locks. My stomach revolts, but I choke down the nausea. I won’t give him that satisfaction either.
He moves his hand down the front of my body, the blade leaving a sharp trail of heat across my skin and over my collarbone.
It reaches the top of my tank top and slices through the fabric with ease, down the center, slow and careful, never so much as nicking my skin.
It’s surgical, almost tender, the way he exposes me, inch by slow inch, the soft hollow between my breasts laid bare.
Each millimeter of skin makes me burn with humiliation.
Using the tip of the blade, he spreads the fabric, dragging it across my nipple until my flesh responds against my will.
I swallow a cry that’s more tremor than rebellion.
Behind that mask, his stare sears itself into every revealed inch of skin. Each second of his focus leaves marks I can’t see but feel everywhere.
“So fucking beautiful.”
His voice sounds almost reverent as a knuckle brushes the hardened peak.
He leans down, his breath warming my skin before his mouth closes around my other nipple. His teeth graze the sensitive tip before he bites down. My breath hitches, a moan spilling out before I can trap it.
When he sucks, the sensation detonates through my body, sending tremors rippling through my core. Pain fuses with pleasure, both tangled with terror, creating a brutal cocktail of sensation that overrides the fear.
“Stop!” My demand sounds weak, even to my own ears.
He hums and chuckles around me before releasing my nipple, giving it a quick flick with his tongue.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?”
My stomach knots. I jerk and twist my body, tugging against his grip, but it’s futile. He presses the tip of the knife to my nipple, a sharp reminder he’s the one with the power.
“Don’t.” My voice breaks. “You don’t have to do this.”
He releases my wrists, but the cold steel of the knife remains pressed against my nipple, a cold promise that keeps me still.
His other hand slips beneath the waistband of my shorts. I clamp my legs together, but he’s stronger, and when I fight, he twists the knife, pressing a fraction harder. Not enough to break the skin but enough to make my thighs fall open.
His fingers brush against slick flesh, and more horror floods through me when heat blossoms beneath his touch. Fear never aroused me before this man started watching me. Confusion tangles with self-loathing, not because of what my body craves, but because it’s craving it from a killer.
“Fuck.”
He drags his fingertip over my clit in slow circles, and my hips jerk upward before I can stop them.
The motion rips a sound from my throat. Something between a groan and a sob that I’m unable to swallow back down.
My legs tremble with the effort of staying still while heat pools low in my belly, uninvited and undeniable.
I want to clamp them shut, want to kick him away, but instead my thighs spread wider.
Heat builds where his finger presses, spreading through my core in waves I can’t fight back.
He pulls his hand away and brings it to his mouth.
His tongue sweeps across his fingertip, collecting what he’s drawn from me.
His eyelids flutter closed, and a muscle in his jaw twitches.
When his eyes open again, they’ve gone dark, hunger consuming everything else in his expression, his eyes fixing on me like I’m the only thing that exists.
“I’m going to fucking devour you.”
His damp fingers lift to my wrists, suspended above my head like a sacrificial offering.
His powerful hand surrounds them again, and a jolt of horror streaks through me.
My chance to escape has slipped through my fingers like sand through an hourglass.
When his attention shifted, I could have tried to grab the knife.
I could have slashed or stabbed or done anything to get free.
Even a cut would have been worth it. A slice across my breast, or a gash on my ribs.
I would have healed. Scars fade and pain passes, but that chance won’t come back, and I can only lie here knowing I let it slip past while I did nothing.
Lost in every tiny pulse of unwanted pleasure.
With my wrists secured again, he pulls the knife away and slides it down my stomach, dipping the blade beneath my sleep shorts. The sound of fabric tearing fills the air as he slices through them with the same ease he cut through my top.
He tosses the knife onto the bed, where it lands with a soft thud beside me.
His one-handed agility is terrifying as he maneuvers me out of my shorts and underwear, even as I twist and kick against him, leaving me naked and shivering, with only the useless shreds of my own dignity.
I whimper, and he glances up, his dark eyes glinting through the mask.
“You’re so fucking stunning, Luna. And you’re all mine.”
He hauls me up the mattress. My heels scrape against the sheets, searching for purchase that isn’t there.
This man’s strength—I’m no match for it.
The fabric of my torn underwear cuts into my wrists as he winds it around the headboard slats, looping it tight so that wriggling free is impossible.
The knife finds its new home on the pillow beside my temple, its constant threat thrumming with every frantic heartbeat.
He vanishes below my line of sight, his hands gripping my knees, forcing them wider. Then, his tongue is on me—hot, relentless, and all-consuming.
The first touch makes me gasp.
The second makes me forget why I should resist.
By the third, my back arches off the bed, the horror of my captivity melting into pleasure I don’t want to feel.
A sob racks my body, and I choke out, “Stop, please— don’t—” but all he does is hum, the sound vibrating through my flesh. Every part of me wants to recoil, but every inch of me is also awake, sparking and overloaded. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to transport my mind anywhere else.
But my body betrays me. His mouth is ruthless, and my hips buck before I can hold them back. I’m trying so hard not to feel, but sensation crowds in, taking all the oxygen, crushing me beneath it.
“Please.”
I’m unsure what I’m begging for anymore. For release, for mercy, for anything that will end this torment.
The cool edge of his mask presses against my skin, a jarring reminder of how wrong this is. A killer is between my legs, and all I can do is lift my hips and press myself against his mouth.
“You taste like heaven.” His growl, lost in the folds of my pussy, sends a surge of heat through me, a wildfire that consumes everything in its path.
His hand moves to my hip, pinning it to the mattress as the other slips between my legs to join his mouth. His fingers brush over my clit, a whisper of a touch, as he thrusts his tongue inside me, and a shudder engulfs my whole body.
I’m close already, embarrassingly so, my body a tightly wound coil ready to spring.
His efforts intensify, and I shudder, already on the brink.
He feasts on me, ravenous, driving me to the edge of oblivion.
When he wraps his lips around my clit, I choke on a gasp, a drowning woman pulled under by a riptide of sensation.
“Don’t.” The word tears out of me. “Don’t, don’t—”
My head thrashes against the pillow. I pull at the restraints holding my wrists, feeling them bite into my skin.
My nails dig into my palms until the skin threatens to break.
My heels press into the surface beneath me, trying to push him away, but my hips roll forward instead.
The contradiction splits me in two. Another sound bubbles up from my chest, and I bite down on my lip, trying to trap it inside, but it escapes anyway—broken and wanting.
His tongue is everywhere at once, and I come so hard my vision bleeds white at the edges, stars exploding behind my eyelids. A sharp cry rips from my throat. I sob through it, the tears I’ve been holding back finally spilling, and when it’s over, I sag against the mattress, spent and wrecked.
He gives me no time to catch my breath. His hands run up the insides of my thighs, thumbs pressing against my sex, working me open again. My skin is raw and fevered, but I can’t stop my hips from tilting into his touch. I can’t stop wanting. I loathe myself for it.
He tugs me against his face. “More.”
He slips two fingers inside me, a stretch that makes me groan, his tongue working against me with devastating skill. The oversensitivity borders on pain, but he doesn’t stop, pushing me toward a second peak that builds higher than the first.
“I can’t,” I gasp, even as my body contradicts me, tensing around his fingers. “It’s too much—”
He thrusts harder, deeper, his teeth sinking into my clit. Pain flares, but it only fuels the inferno. He bites again.
“Ow.” The sensation makes me jolt, but the pain only adds to the pleasure.
He releases me, kissing the tender bundle of nerves, making my body jerk. Then he rises, grabbing the knife glinting beside my head in the moonlight—a reminder of my helplessness—and presses the blade against my lips.
“You wanted this, little doe.”
That nickname. Little doe. I should hate it, but the sound of it coming from his lips makes my clit throb.
His mouth descends again, and it’s different this time, slower, more deliberate, as if he’s savoring every twitch and gasp I make. He teases me until I’m shaking.
Trembling.
Shattered.
When I break, the second orgasm crashes through me like a tsunami, tearing sobs from my throat. He continues his merciless assault on my flesh until I’m a pleading, sobbing mess.
He pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
I’m splayed out, wrists bound, eyes blurred with tears, and hair plastered to my temples.
He traces the knife down my side, following the curve of my hip, and over my belly as my body trembles from both aftershocks and the terror of what he’ll do now.
He doesn’t cut. He teases, playing with the idea of pain. Keeping me terrified. Keeping me present.
The dark chuckle he lets out rumbles through my entire body, like thunder that resonates within my soul.
Then he’s over me, resting the tip of the knife against my mouth again.
I look at him through the swollen, sticky, salty haze of my eyelashes, and a violent urge surges through me. I want to bite him, sink my teeth into that wicked mouth, and taste his blood as he’s tasted me. Instead, I open my mouth and let him slide the knife’s flat edge along my tongue.
I blame it on the brain fog still lingering from two powerful orgasms in less than ten minutes. I stare him down, swallowing my fear, and I don’t miss the small smile playing on his damp lips as if he’s tasting victory.
He leans over me, checking my restraints. His scent envelops me again, mixed with the heady scent of my arousal clinging to his skin. And I give in, breathing him in, filling my lungs with us, and, God help me, my core clenches in response.
He cocks his head. “Are you going to be good, or do I have to tie your ankles too?”
“Let me go. I won’t tell anyone about this. I won’t call the sheriff. I can’t identify you anyway, so please just untie me and leave, and no one will ever know.”
His lips curve into what one could only describe as a sinister smile beneath that beautiful mask, a grin that sends a chill down my spine.
“Oh, little doe, we’re only getting started.”