Chapter 9 Mackenzie #3
I chew on his offer, weighing it in the electric air between us. And he just stands there, that crooked grin unraveling every thought in my head. “Aw, come on, don’t you trust me, Kenz?”
I finally huff, “Fine.”
His palm instantly finds the small of my back, leading me toward the front of the line. “But…um, the line starts back there,” I tell him, glancing over my shoulder at all the people waiting, but nobody even flickers an eyelash as we glide past. No muttered complaints, no mutinous sighs.
Daxton’s only response is a low “Mhmm,” mischief glittering in his crystal eyes.
He strides past the couple next in line, cutting in without a word, leaning close to murmur into an attendant’s ear.
The attendant’s eyes flicker—mechanical, obedient—before he steps aside to talk to the other couple.
“All right, folks. The next car’s on the fritz,” he announces flatly, voice barely carrying.
“I’m sending it down. Hop on the next one,” he tells the pair, who still seem not the least bit frustrated.
“No problem, what’s another five minutes?” the boy replies in the thickest South Jersey accent I’ve heard in a while. He wraps his arms around a tiny girl with knotless braids wrapped into space buns, pink heart-shaped hair accessories decorating them—she giggles when he kisses her cheek.
“Come on, Kenz,” Daxton urges, tugging me forward. “It’s our turn.”
I open my mouth, ready to protest.“But he just said—ekkk!” Daxton sweeps me up and slings me over one broad shoulder. Shock stuns me silent.
“The woman was too stunned to speak.” He chuckles, voice rumbling through the leather against my cheek. “I think I like it.”
A heartbeat later, he sets me down in a boat with a plush, heart-shaped headrest. I stare at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape.
He leans in, smirking. “Well, scoot over then.” My legs tremble as I slide to the farthest edge; a thin wisp of doubt dances through my mind—this is wrong, I should get out—but my feet don't move, pinned by curiosity and something more, something electric.
He shuffles in beside me, and the boat rocks violently against the shimmering waters—I press my fingers into the rough wood, convinced we’ll capsize.
Daxton inches closer, that smirk softening into something more intimate. “I hope you’re not body-shaming me in that pretty head,” he murmurs, tone teasing, his fingers drifting to my thigh. “That would be so upsetting.”
“I didn’t—” I say as I try to scoot away.
“Relax, I don’t bite.” He grips my thigh, tugging me closer, just as the boat starts to move. “Unless,” he says, fangs glistening as his lips curve into a smirk, “you want me to.” I hear the words, but this time, his lips don’t move.
That unnerves me a bit, and I flinch, heart stuttering, as the last sliver of escape snaps shut. The boat jolts forward with a muted mechanical thrum, metal plates vibrating beneath my fingertips while water laps softly against the hull.
I half-expect to round a corner and find garish plastic roses, paper hearts fluttering from the ceiling, some sappy animatronic couple locked in a cheesy kiss beneath glittering lights. Instead, the tunnel swallows us whole.
A sickly red light floods every surface—no gentle pink, but thick, pulsing scarlet, as if it were a living heart.
Bulging veins snake along the curved ceiling, writhing shadows slithering beneath translucent tissue. A sharp, metallic tang that fills my nostrils and coats my tongue, like I’ve swallowed a mouthful of blood. I press my palm to my mouth as my pulse skitters. “What is this?” I murmur.
Across from me, Daxton sits motionless, silhouette etched in red. His eyes glint with something unreadable. The corners of his mouth twitch upward in a half-smile, a predator savoring the hunt.
Ahead, the tunnel stretches into infinite gloom—no exit, no escape.
“I don’t like this,” I whisper, though my thoughts spin in confusing circles—my heart races, and heat pools low in my belly, a confusing swirl of dread and need tangling together until I can’t tell them apart.
Then, without warning, the boat shudders to a standstill.
The hum dies, the water stills. Silence descends like a heavy curtain, and I blink against the darkness. “Did it break?” My voice echoes off the walls.
Daxton rises with fluid grace, as if every move were calculated. He steps closer, too calm for my liking. “No,” he says, almost tenderly. “It didn’t stop.”
My breath catches. “Then why—”
He reaches out and taps two fingers against my temple. Electricity snaps through my skull.
The tunnel convulses—and freezes. The walls’s throbbing heartbeat stalls, the red light hardening like a paused frame in a nightmare.
“What did you do?” I choke out, knuckles whitening on the boat’s edge.
His tone drops to a velvet purr. “Nothing you didn’t want me to. We’re in your head. This can stop whenever you want it to. ”
The ceiling above me melts away in my mind, stretching into a yawning void.
From that darkness unfurls chains—twisted black iron, glinting wetly.
Before panic can claim me, invisible hands lift my body.
The chains coil around my wrists and ankles, clinking as they bind me, then tighten to hoist me upright until my toes dangle inches from the floor.
My shirt slips against my skin, and the cool air kisses my naked breasts.
Fear should spike through me—yet my breath comes ragged and achingly needy.
“This is in my head,” I whisper.
“Yes,” Daxton murmurs, stepping closer, frost radiating from him in tangible waves. “Because I asked you if you trusted me. And you said yes.”
“I didn’t say yes. I said fine.”
His fingertips tilt my chin upward, and my pulse roars. “Then say ‘stop,’ and it all ends.” His smile gleams in the dim light. “But say my name…and it gets much worse.”
A rush of dark, sinful heat floods me. My blood hisses in my ears, my cheeks aflame. I swallow against the tremor in my throat. “Daxton.”
The chains cinch—unyielding, precise.
The crimson light intensifies to the color of fresh arterial blood, shadows dancing like liquid fingers over the sharp planes of his face as he looks at me through half-lidded eyes, like I’m his favorite sin displayed on an altar.
He leans forward, close enough that his winter-cold breath caresses my feverish skin, velvet voice low. “Good girl,” he murmurs, each syllable dripping with promise. “Then let me show you what you keep pretending you don’t want.”
His long, elegant fingers work at my pants with ease, the button surrendering with a soft pop before they slide down my trembling legs to puddle on the damp floor of the boat.
In between his thumb and forefinger is the heart-shaped lollipop from my back pocket, its cherry-red surface gleaming wetly in the pulsing light. “I hope you don’t mind,” he purrs, eyes never leaving mine, “I have a killer sweet tooth tonight.”
He tears the crinkled wrapper away with his teeth, the sound deafening in the tunnel’s hush, before sliding the candy between his lips. He sucks it slowly, hollowing his cheeks, before drawing it out with an obscene pop.
The cool candy glistens as he traces it over my aching nipple, leaving a trail of sweetness that cools instantly against my burning skin. My head falls back, spine arching involuntarily, a moan I can’t suppress tearing from somewhere deep within me.
My body responds to his touch with an eagerness that both thrills and terrifies me. I strain against the chains, not to escape but to press closer to him, my skin hungry for more.
“Please,” I whisper, the word escaping before I can trap it behind my teeth.
Daxton’s smile is slow and wicked. “What are you begging for, Mackenzie?” His voice drips with dark honey. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
The lollipop traces a lazy circle around my other nipple, leaving a glistening trail that cools in the tunnel’s strange air.
I gasp, thoughts fragmenting like shattered glass. “I—I don’t know,” I stammer, but it’s a lie. I know precisely what I want; I’m just terrified to say it.
His free hand cups my chin, forcing me to look into those eyes that shimmer with something knowing and cold.
“Let me help you, then,” he says, tossing the lollipop aside.
It lands with a soft splash in the dark water below.
“You want to be taken. Used. You want to surrender control to someone who knows exactly what this tight little body needs.”
Each word strikes a chord deep within me, resonating with a truth I’ve been denying. The chains lift me higher, completely at his mercy—and I’ve never felt more alive.
“Yes,” I whisper, the confession torn from me.
“Say my name again,” he commands, his lips hovering just above mine.
This time, I don’t hesitate. “Daxton.”
The moment his name leaves my lips, something shifts in the air between us. He growls, low and primal, making my insides liquefy. His hand slides behind my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as he yanks my head back, exposing my throat.
“You have no idea what you’re playing with,” he whispers against my jugular. His lips brush my pulse point, and I feel the sharp edge of his teeth—not quite biting, just a dangerous promise.
The boat beneath us seems to have disappeared entirely; we’re suspended in this crimson void where nothing exists but his touch and my desperate need.
A metallic sound garners my attention, and I shift my gaze in time to see a fucking knife.
“What the fuck?!” I jerk away, but he pulls me closer.
“Stay still, baby, let the pain weep into your pleasure.”
The blade glints in the crimson light, and my breath gets lost in my throat. Everything in me screams to fight, to flee, but the chains hold me steady as my mind races between terror and a twisted, forbidden excitement.
“I’ll never agree to this,” I manage to say, though my voice trembles.