Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
The words tumble out of me, springing straight from the heart that seems to only warm in her presence, “Your screams are for my ears alone, little bird.”
I let my arm fall away from her and step back, giving her space to decide her next move in our little game.
A game that perhaps she hasn’t figured out, that I will win at any cost. She wraps her arms around herself, rubbing her arms in a soothing motion.
Her body trembles, from her shaking legs to her quivering, pink lips.
Her wide doe eyes scan the streets, pausing at each small grouping of people that line the sidewalks.
Those eyes glisten beautifully, sparkling with unshed tears.
Her plump lips press together into a thin line, but it doesn’t stop the tiny whine that squeaks through them.
Hearing the sweet sound of her fear, I suppress a groan.
A small smile creeps across my mouth when her eyes sweep back, catching mine.
It widens when she turns and runs down the street.
I bounce impatiently on the balls of my feet, aching to chase her.
My fingers clench, balling my hands into fists which I tap against my thighs.
I won’t let myself run after her just yet.
She needs to understand the lengths I’ll go to catch her.
She needs to run as far and as fast as she can so that she can see that there’s no escaping me.
I allow her to put a few city blocks of space between us before I follow the sound of her rapidly clicking heels.
A chuckle rumbles in my chest when she pivots clumsily onto the next street, nearly toppling over in the process.
The wind whips at her dress, pushing it higher up her thighs as her legs pump beneath her.
My clumsy, careless woman. She careens down Rayton Avenue, pushing herself further away from help and closer to the warehouse district. Pausing at the corner, I call after her, “Run as fast as you can, baby. You’ll regret it when I catch you.”
I slow my pace to a light jog, following the echoes of her heels crashing against the concrete.
She zigs and zags through the streets, further and further from the heart of the city.
Further into the darkness where I’ll trap her alone.
My fingers itch at my side, desperate to feel her soft skin against them.
My neck cranes, my ear lifting toward an alley where I hear the clacking of her footfalls begin to slow. I quiet my own steps, tiptoeing toward the sounds of her ragged breaths and muted sobs. Resting my palms against the chilled brick of an empty building, I peer around the corner.
A cold wind whips through the alley, pulling with it the sweet scent of her skin. From behind a dumpster, locks of earthy brown hair flutter. Her soft whimpers and sniffles bounce off of the metal she hides behind, making the sound louder despite her attempts to quiet herself.
I step closer. Close enough to see her head ducked down, pressed against her bleeding knees.
Her hair falls in tangles around her head.
It's damp with sweat. Her body shudders, her muscles twitching against the cold.
She whispers quietly against her legs. A mantra repeating softly, “Just stay hidden. Just stay hidden.”
Something inside my chest thrashes at the sight of her.
It scratches and claws inside me, screaming for me to take her away from here.
It gnaws on the edges of my heart, shrieking for me to soothe her, to protect her.
Soon, I tell it. This is all for her. She will break, and then I'll make her whole again. Soon, she'll know that she’s mine.
“You can't hide from me, little bird,” I say softly in the kind of gentle tone one uses to soothe a feral animal. “I'll always find you.”
With a yelp, her head rockets upward. Her eyes connect with mine and widen.
Panic ripples across her face, tightening her features.
Her breath comes in short, strained pants.
I reach for her, causing her to flinch and recoil.
Inwardly, I wince as she presses her back against the dumpster.
That nagging thing inside of me hates to see her dirty and cold.
I immediately push it down, forcing it to recede back into my chest.
My fingers wrap around her arm and I yank her to her feet. She wobbles on unsteady legs before falling into me, her chest pressed against mine. I close my eyes, reveling in the rightness of her warm body against me. Her body tightens when my hands grip her waist.
With her in my arms, I step forward to press her against the wall behind her. She hisses when her back hits the rough bricks. She winces as I lean into her, sandwiching her between me and the wall. Her wide, glistening eyes meet mine as a tear rolls down her cheek.
I rub my thumb against her heated skin, catching the droplet before it falls. Placing my finger in my mouth, I lick her salty sweetness away. The look of fear in her eyes seems to flare when I hum contentedly.
The muscles in her face scrunch up and she clamps her eyelids shut tightly. She tilts her chin down toward her neck, trying to make herself small. Her voice comes out in a whisper as she begs, “P-please don't kill m-me.”
I chuckle. Not only at the absurdity of the concept of me killing her, but also because that dark, monstrous part of me delights in her fear. Her desperate plea settles in my blood and rushes straight to my cock.
“I have no intention of killing you,” I state, expecting some of the tension in her muscles to ease.
It doesn't. Her body stands rigid and still. Her chin remains down and her eyes firmly closed. That won't do. I press my thumb under her chin and lift it up.
“Eyes on me, precious.”
The term of endearment feels strange in my mouth.
Probably because I can't recall ever using one before.
But her response makes me want to say it again.
She shakes in my arms as a shudder runs through her.
Hesitantly, her eyelids peel open and her mossy-green eyes meet mine.
A rosy-pink flush spreads through her cheeks.
I press my lips against her forehead. “That's a good girl.”
My hand drops away from her waist, my palm running down from her hip to her knee. She tenses as my fingers creep under the hem of her dress. I brush them over her skin, tracing a line up her thigh. I groan at the feeling of her soft, buttery skin.
Her skin is perfect, soft, and smooth. I trail my hands over the tops of her legs, my fingers tracing the creases at the tops of her thighs.
As I feel that delicate skin beneath my fingertips, realization crashes into me.
My hand stills on her thigh for a moment before my fingers squeeze. She yelps as I grip her upper thigh.
“You’re not wearing any panties,” I state. My voice lowers, bordering on a growl. “You were going to let him touch you?”
Ava's eyes widen. She opens and closes her mouth, but only a few small, incoherent syllables tumble out.
“Answer me,” I demand.
Her response is whispered and breathless, “I don't know.”
My eyebrows skyrocket to the top of my head. “You don't know?”
“Maybe,” she whispers.
My pulse quickens, stuttering in my veins. Hot, festering rage curls in my gut. My fingers flex against the sudden feeling of bugs twitching under my skin. I slam my palm against the wall beside Ava's head, forcing bits of brick to crumble onto her shoulder, making her flinch again.
Maybe? Maybe she would have let him put his hands on what’s mine?
Fucking maybe? I press my palm into the wall until pain radiates through my fingers.
I should have ended her pathetic excuse for a date back at the bar.
I should have broken every one of his fingers.
She wouldn't want his mangled hands touching her after that.
Even as she shrinks back against the wall, Ava's eyes harden, glinting with fiery resolve. Her jaw ticks before she opens her mouth.
“What do you care?” she rasps. Her voice is coated with anger, but she can't hide the slight quiver of fear that shakes it. “I'm not yours. You don't own me!”
I cock my head to the side, stunned by my shy bird showing me her claws; small and blunt, though they may be.
In my time watching her, she hasn’t shown them to anyone else.
Her eyes are bright and angry, still containing some tiny smoldering embers of her fire; the one that was stomped out by whatever life has put her through.
Something perhaps I haven’t discovered about my little bird yet.
I peel my hand back from the wall to place it on her throat. My fingers wrap loosely around her neck as my thumb draws slow lines up and down her jugular.
“Yes, you are. And yes, I fucking do,” I growl.
“I think you’ll find that I’m very possessive of what’s mine.
” Her face scrunches up as a fresh wave of tears slips down her cheeks, but I don’t stop.
I can’t—not until she understands. “I want to kill every man that looks at you, but I will kill any man that touches you.”
“What do you want from me?” she asks, her voice hitching with something between a sob and a hiccup.
I lean in, my lips only millimeters from hers as I breathe the word, “Everything.”
She leans forward, pushing her lips closer to mine.
A tiny whimper escapes from between them.
Her eyes are rounded in fear as they flick between my eyes and my mouth.
Her pupils expand under my gaze. My own eyes widen in surprise and a smile twitches at the corners of my mouth.
She wants me. At the thought, my cock hardens, pressing painfully against my jeans.