Chapter 39 #2
I took in a steadying breath, the devil stirring beneath my skin—wicked, hungry. I loosened my grip on her, cracking my neck, before levelling her with an unholy stare. My voice was low and rough with all the ungodly fantasies that rushed through my mind. “Then run.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, fear erupting over her face and bolted off the bed, grabbing my shirt as she went.
Oh, even better. That shirt would be my new favourite once it was stained by her blood, her arousal.
I heard her yelp as she dashed down the hall—maybe in excitement, maybe fear. Both had me straining against my pants.
My blood rushed in my ears as the adrenaline quickened my heartrate.
When I told Gemma that I wanted an entire wing just for me and Ava, this was exactly what I had in mind.
I listened to her footsteps, calculating what room she had disappeared into and waited. Giving her the chance to find a good hiding spot. And giving the fear a chance to completely flood her system. There was no torture as maddening as waiting for your doom.
I walked down the hallway, making sure my footsteps were audible and stopped in front of the art room. The only room to have a runner starting from the doorway that had made the sound of her footfalls disappear instantly.
The art room was a strange choice. There weren’t many hiding places except for behind the couch, the door and in the supply cupboard. Maybe she was planning on squirting me with paint when I opened the cupboard door. Or stab me with a paintbrush.
That excited me and I stealthily moved into the room towards the cupboard. The door was slightly ajar, moved five millimetres from the last time I’d scoured the castle.
I stopped before it, counted to three and ripped the door open.
But instead of Ava in front of me, the door to the art room banged shut behind me.
I whirled around, in time to hear the key push the lock shut with a distinct click.
That little witch! The cupboard door had been a diversion. And in my excitement, I had fallen for it.
My cock jerked in my pants as I heard her satisfied laughter through the door. Ava and her FBI dogs clearly could have trapped me easily if she was the bait.
“You are done, devil. There’s nowhere to go,” she said, another bout of giggling echoing off the castle’s stone walls. “You’re trapped.”
Silently, I chuckled with her, scanning through the chess pieces in the room.
I could just kick it open, but that had never been my style.
Instead, I grabbed the thinnest brush in the cupboard and stalked towards the door.
It was an old trick, but a good one. I banged on the door, earning a startled yelp from her, and grinned.
“You’re a clever little witch,” I praised through the door, checking inside the keyhole.
The key was already lined up correctly, making it one less step to my escape.
“But you should start praying to your gods for mercy now.” I pushed the runner through the crack at the bottom of the door and hoped my words alarmed her enough to daze and distract from what I was doing.
“Because you will get none from me.” I jabbed the paintbrush into the keyhole and heard the satisfying thump of the key falling on the runner outside the door.
I yanked the runner back before she could react and heard her astonished gasp as I snatched the key from the rug.
I hurriedly unlocked the door, eager to see the terror on her face.
She darted down the hallway and with one horrified glance backwards that had my dick throbbing, she disappeared down the circular staircase.
Perfect. Closer to where I wanted her.
I sprinted after her, cornering her in the kitchen. She stood frozen behind the island table, her eyes darting between the only two exits available, both too close to me. Her chest was heaving and her cheeks flushed. I adjusted my rigid cock as her throat bobbed.
Oh, I was going to fuck her senseless. Until my brutal craving for her was satiated. Until she screamed my name for the whole world to hear.
She grabbed a pan from the stove, and I chuckled darkly. Slowly, I moved to the right of the island, away from the two doors, herding her in the direction I wanted her.
I picked up a butcher knife from the table, enjoying the widening of her eyes.
“Grayson,” she said my name in a mixture of pleading and shock.
Her reaction amused me. She still had a touch of doubt about whether or not I would go off the rails and kill her. I delighted in it, because she took pleasure in it. She enjoyed dangerous thrills almost as much as I did. So I would make sure I kept that doubt alive inside her beautiful mind.
I wasn’t going to use the knife on her. I just knew what her next move would be and I was ready for it. But she didn’t need to know that. “No mercy, baby.”
Her mouth slipped open as the unease pulsed through her body in panting breaths. But she stayed quiet. No safe word uttered.
Oh, you are a twisted little deviant, aren’t you, Princess?
I rushed towards her, making her sprint around the other side of the table towards the doors.
She ran past the first door and bolted to the one that exited the kitchen, and I threw the knife.
The blade struck the wall right in front of her face and she screamed.
She instantly spun around, the pan clattering to the floor as she speeded through the other door.
I knew she had no idea where she was going. She was blindly running down the dark stairs, swept up by the fear.
Right into my trap.
I closed the cellar door behind me, excitement making my fingers tremble. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, Ava stood with her back against the wall of wine bottles on the other side of the dark room, eyes wide and chest heaving beautifully. With nowhere else to run.
I cocked my head at her, the movement making her squirm. I slowly moved to the left of the room, not taking my eyes off her. “Look at you. Trembling like a fawn. Your body begging you to run.”
She swallowed and pressed her naked thighs together.
Fuck, I loved her depravity.
I bent down and picked the rope up, twisting one side around my fist and letting the rest fall to the ground before me.
Ava narrowed her eyes at the rope, and I watched realisation dawn on her pretty face.
“Yes, baby. Why did you think I led you down here? I made you a promise, didn’t I?” I took two steps forward, tying the end of the rope into a ball, then threw it over one of the wooden beams above our heads.
Anger contorted Ava’s face. “I hate that. I hate when you make me do things that I’m not aware of.”
I grinned as I secured one end of the rope around an iron candle holder bolted to the wall.
I tugged on the other end of the rope, making sure the holder held fast, my dick feeling like it was about to burst as I imagined Ava strung up on it.
“Do you really? I think you love the way I manipulate the world to my will.” I released the rope and took a step closer to her, taking in her beautifully trembling frame in my shirt.
“I think you enjoy watching people squirm beneath my boot.” Another step.
Ava pressed herself harder into the wine rack.
“And I think you enjoy it when I play with you. A puppet on my strings.”
Her eyes fluttered, her mouth falling open, but no witty reply.
I laughed knowingly. “And I don’t even have to be a genius to know it. Look at you. Baby, your thighs are wet with your arousal.”
Ava clenched her jaw and plucked out a wine bottle from its hole and threw it at me. I laughed again as I shifted my head and let it splatter against the wall behind me.
Ava gave an adorable growl and chucked another bottle at my head. Then another. And another.
I caught the last one before my face and set it carefully on the ground, ducking from another bottle in the process.
This bottle I was going to gift to Hunt and Gemma on their wedding day.
It was one of the oldest bottles still in existence of their favourite brand of wine.
It had taken me months to track down with all the shit that had been going on.
I looked up to see Ava’s eyes darting to the stairs and she lunged forward. I swiped my foot out and knocked her feet out from under her. She fell forward, but pushed herself right back up, the movement graceful and calculated. Like she had expected it.
I stood before her, blocking her way out, my insides flipping in anticipation as she paced in front of me, her eyes dangerously narrowed.
My Ved’ma had stopped running. This had turned into something more than our usual cat and mouse games. She was determined to make me eat my words. To overthrow me.
A grin tugged on my lips. One day she would be able to beat me. I would make sure of it. But not tonight. Not yet.
Oh, I was going to enjoy her frustration.
She gave an impressive kick right to my face, her agility surprising me.
I stepped backwards, her foot whizzing past me.
A quick jab to my ribs followed, and I blocked it, shoving her hand to my left as I stepped to the right.
I saw her pull her left arm back and swing.
I stood still, taking the shot right on the jaw, the pain shooting through the side of my face.