Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
I stare numbly at my soggy bowl of shredded wheat as Landon recounts everything that happened to him last night after the body was found. He’s so animated in his retelling, but I can’t find it in me to pay attention to the words coming from his mouth. All I can think about is the way Caleb’s eyes stared at me, as dull in death as they were in life.
“And then the cop asked me if I had anything to do with it. Can you fucking believe that shit? As if I could do anything other than bury myself in the sweet piece of ass I was with.”
That type of commentary would normally make me flinch, but lately it just makes me… tired. Especially this morning, when all I want to do is lie in bed and try to forget the horrible sight at the club last night.
“Do they know who did it?” I ask, unaware I’m interrupting another tirade he’s fallen into.
“I don’t fucking know, Lottie. Do you really not care how those pigs treated me?” he crosses his arms with a scowl, and I turn my attention back to my Wheaties. “Well? It sure as shit doesn’t seem like you care.”
He still hasn’t asked about the cut on my neck, and he certainly doesn’t care I’m the one who found Caleb’s body, is all I can think as I raise my eyes, meeting his irritated gaze head-on. He doesn’t say anything else, and I stand from my seat with a heavy sigh, grabbing the bowl and heading to the sink to dump it out.
The faucet is unreasonably loud as I rinse out the remnants of my forgotten breakfast, and I’m scared to turn around, to face the man I’ve called my fiancé for the past year.
“I’m going running,” I murmur, not looking at him as I duck out of the kitchen. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to stop me, and I have to assume that whether it be from anger or otherwise, he’s fine with me leaving.
I yank on my tennis shoes and grab my headphones before rushing out the door. I’m halfway down the steps when I notice something red peeking out of the bushes, and when I stoop to pick it up, my heart lodges in my throat.
It’s another card, though this one has a slightly different message—and twice as terrifying.
Two days.
I throw my shoulders back, crumpling the notecard in my fist and dispensing it into the trash bin at the end of the driveway. I shove my headphones in forcefully, selecting a particularly violent song from my playlist as I take off down the sidewalk, determined not to let the warning shake me.
The chill morning air burns my lungs, but I pay it little attention as I take a left onto the Moriton hiking trail, too focused on keeping Zay from my mind and my feet moving forward.
I slow my pace slightly the deeper I get into the forest, breathing in the crisp scent of cypress and going so far as to pull an earbud out so I can listen to the birds sing. It really is beautiful out here this early in the day. No one is around for miles—no one but the birds and the animals and me to welcome in the new day.
I’m so busy marveling at the scenery, I don’t notice the trip wire someone has planted on the hiking trail. I’m flying through the air before I know what’s happening, unable to do anything but squeeze my eyes tight and brace for a painful landing.
Only, that never happens.
I crack my lids open, all too aware of a pair of gloved hands wrapped around my midsection, stopping my fall.
“What—?”
I don’t get to finish my question as I’m hauled upright, a hand planted firmly over my mouth to silence me.
“Shh,” he whispers, pulling my backside flush against his abdomen. “Don’t make a sound, little rose. If you do, we’ll have to stop playing. Do you understand?”
The way my body reacts to his touch is more than enough to let me know who it is, and I close my eyes tight to fight against the desire heating my blood. Why is it only like this with him? What have I done that’s so wrong I can only get off to thoughts of this… this monster.
“Rose? I asked you a question,” he murmurs, moving his hand from my belly to cup my breast and teasing my nipple through the thin material of my sports bra. My whimper is muffled by his hand, and I uselessly grind my ass against him in an attempt to alleviate some of the fire burning between my thighs.
Keeping three fingers over my mouth, he pinches my nose closed with the other two, and my body convulses for entirely different reasons as I’m slowly starved for oxygen.
“I’m not a patient man, little rose. Answer the question.” His voice is a dangerous growl, one I am all too willing to get lost in. I nod, desperate for air and to continue this dangerous game we’ve been playing.
Satisfied with the answer, he releases my nose. I suck in lungfuls of precious oxygen as he chuckles darkly, dipping his other hand beneath my sports bra. He rolls my nipple between two fingers before applying a fierce pressure that causes me to gasp against his hand, my head tipping back as I’m lost to the delectable mix of pain and pleasure.
“Did you like your gift, little rose?” he murmurs, releasing my nipple and massaging the pain away. “Did you like the pretty X I left him with?”
I’m so lost in him, it takes me a few seconds to realize what he’s talking about. When I do, it’s like someone dumped a bucket of cold water all over me, and I attempt to pull out of his hold.
I shake my head, tears coming to my eyes as the terror of what I experienced that day coming back tenfold. His chest shakes with a dark laugh, and he leans forward, licking the first salty drop that falls to my cheek.
And then I’m struck with a whole new kind of terror. He’s not wearing his mask.
“It was your fault, Carlotta,” he whispers, a malicious tone coating every word he whispers into my ear. “Because you are mine, and you allowed him to touch you.“ He snaps his hand up, cupping my throat and squeezing hard enough to bring stars to my eyes. “Since the moment I laid eyes on you, you’ve belonged to me. And anyone who touches what is mine, will die by my hand.”
It’s wrong, but also the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. But also… oh, God, he could hurt Landon. Of course, it’s been months since he’s truly touched me in that way. But still…
He releases my mouth for a moment, just long enough for me to breathe out one simple phrase. “You’re insane,” I whisper, fighting weakly against his hold on my throat. “Fucking insane.”
“For you, my treasure , always,” he says, leaning down and nuzzling his face into my neck. He takes a deep inhale, and a moan shudders deep in his chest. “You smell divine. Good enough to eat. ”
There’s a scraping noise, and then teeth are sinking into my flesh, right in the center of the X and causing the wound to reopen again. I cry out in pain before his hand is slapped across my mouth once more.
“We had a deal. You broke it,” he snarls, ripping my arms behind my back. He wraps something that feels like twine around them before doing the same to my ankles. Then, he bends me over, pressing the outline of his rock-hard cock against my ass as he fastens my wrists to my ankles.
I whimper when he finally takes his hands from me, and his dark laugh fills the still forest air.
“I’ll be back for you, my rose. Two days. ”
And then he’s gone. Leaving me with a belly full of want and no way in hell how to get out of this cursed position.
Sometimes, being chased by a masked man fucking sucks.