Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“Not yet,” I say, harsher than intended.
Locke raises an eyebrow, studying me carefully. I’ve never been possessive about any of my toys before. I have never claimed anyone beyond just The Hunt.
I take a deep breath, trying to wash away the jealousy and rage at the thought of Merrick and Soren fucking Fiora. I push those thoughts aside. I can’t afford to get attached. I have a job to do, and I can’t let my emotions get in the way.
I must tread carefully with Fiora. There is something about her that has drawn me in, something that makes me want to protect her and keep her all to myself. But that is impossible. That’s not the way we do things. It’s not the way I want to do things.
Soren claps me on the back. “She’s all yours tonight, if that’s what you want. No worries, man.”
“Just tonight. I want one more time with her. Alone. After that, she’s fair game for all of us.”
Chapter 4
Fiora
One more night.
I’ll stop after tonight.
No more sex with a stranger—a masked stranger.
I seem to say this every time I stand under the red light, waiting for the hunter to come. The fear never goes away. In fact, it seems to get worse because I know what to expect now.
The whistle from the forest will signal his arrival. The masked man will emerge, and I’ll run in nothing but a thin white nightgown.
And though I’ll run as fast as I can, he’ll catch me. He’ll toss me to the ground. And he’ll hurt me. He’ll hurt me in a way that will set my body on fire and make me beg for more. It becomes a vicious cycle, one from which I am too afraid to break free. The fear of him is eclipsed by my own desire for his touch.
So although I say this is the last time, I am also a fucking liar.
The whistle comes, and I watch as the trees part and the masked man steps into the clearing, his eyes from behind the bone mask locked on mine.
There is no guarantee I’ll have the same masked man for each hunt, but this man keeps coming. I recognize the mask. His stance. His smell, and the way he growls his words to me. He has a tattoo of a Kraken on his neck. I’ve seen it before, and I see it now.
I’m happy it’s him, but I am also terrified. It will hurt.
I draw a deep breath, my heart pounding as I turn and flee into the darkness, the thin fabric of my nightgown offering little protection against the night’s chill.
His footsteps are behind me, each one sending a fresh wave of fear and excitement over me. I know what’s coming, and yet I can’t help but crave his hands on my body, how he makes me feel alive in a way nothing else ever can.
I run. I run fast. Sticks and stones tearing at the soles of my bare feet.
I hear him gaining on me, his footsteps growing louder and more urgent. I can’t outrun him, and I don’t want to. I want him to catch me. I want to feel his hands on my body, to be pinned beneath him as he takes what he wants from me.
He catches me quickly, his arms encircling my waist as he pulls me close, his hot breath against my ear. “I’m going to teach you to stop turning on the red light,” he growls, and I moan in pleasure as he prepares to claim me once again.
His teeth sink into the flesh of my shoulder, marking me as his, and I shudder in response. My back arches against him, pressing my body closer to his as he pins me to the ground, his weight a comforting presence that grounds me in the here and now.
“You like that, don’t you?” he growls, his voice low and rough with desire. “You like it when I hurt you.”
I can’t deny it. The pain is a part of the rush, the adrenaline that fuels my need for him.
Maybe I’m broken.
Maybe all that is left of me is a million little pieces.
But right now I feel whole.
And so I nod, biting back a whimper as he trails his lips down my neck, his tongue tracing a path of fire along my skin.
He chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through my chest as he continues to explore my body, his fingers leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “Beg for it,” he demands. “Beg for me to hurt you.”
The masked man’s grip on me tightens, pulling a gasp from my lips as he rolls us over, his body now covering mine. His hips grind against me, the hard length of him pressing against my core through my nightgown’s thin fabric. His desire for me is hot and heavy between us.