Page 14 of 12 Months of Mayhem

And again.

This time it immediately went to voicemail.

I left a message, but an uneasy feeling settled in my gut.

Chapter Five

The Watcher

“Golden Hour” — JVKE

He fucked her like an animal. When he wrapped his hand around her throat and drove his cock into her like the world was ending, I came.

I could see her tits bouncing, and I wanted them in my mouth. I wanted to grab her hair and shove her face into my crotch as he fucked her from behind. I wanted to fuck them both, but I had priorities.

My nails elongated and dug into my palms.

I looked up at the waxing gibbous moon.

It was time.

Chapter Six

Dalton

“Neverbloom” — Rain City Drive

My lids weighed a ton. Trying to open them was like peeling apart a three-day-old grilled cheese sandwich. Did Ryian and I drink last night? Her warm body wasn’t up against me.

“Ryian?” I croaked and reached for her. But the snap and clank of a chain both registered when my movement was cut short.

What the fuck?

Thankfully, I could reach my face, and I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. It was still hard to open them, but with effort, I lifted my fifty-pound eyelids—still, everything was blurry. I blinked rapidly.

It seemed to take forever before my vision cleared.

I was chained to a fucking bed.

And it wasn’t my bed.

Nor did I recognize the room I was in. I could tell it was a bedroom and that wherever I was, it was a very well-restored plantation-style home. That told me nothing, however. There were a ton of fancy homes in New Orleans. This could also just be the bedroom in an old house that had been converted to high-end apartments.

Looking toward the tall double doors, it appeared I was on an upper level. Except they were on the same wall as the elaborately carved and velvet-padded headboard, so I couldn’t really see anything outside. There was muted light that shone through the sheer white curtains.

It had still been dark when I’d been leaving my house. That was the last thing I remembered. I had no idea how long I’d been there, though. Looking down, I noticed that, though they seemed wrinkled, I still had on the shirt and jeans I’d left the house in.

Listening carefully, it sounded like I was alone. Or at least I couldn’t hear anyone moving around outside of the room.

Around my wrists were actual metal goddamn shackles. Thankfully, they were padded on the inside, but they were thick, and each one had a padlock attaching them to the heavy chains that went off the sides of the bed, and I could only assume were just as securely affixed to the bed.

My ankles had matching shackles. “You have to be fucking kidding me!” I shouted.

Desperate, I tried to throw my body to see if I could get the bed to move, but the damn thing was either bolted to the freaking floor or it was solid wood. Furious, I jerked on the chains, though I knew it was futile.

“Hey!” I yelled. If they were apartments, maybe a neighbor would hear me.

Silence.

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