Page 18 of Perilous

He.

I’ve heard all the stories. The secret part ofSA. Constantly told it was all just rumors and bullshit fairy tale stories about ghosts and demons and all that. That there was no secret group of people who wore robes and masks and did awful things to people. That there were no higher ups in that secret group who secretly controlled the entire world. That the buildings were just old. They weren’t used all that much. And the ones used were for certain people only.

Certain people…

Again, more rumors. Thosecertain peoplewere rumored to be kids of super rich people. Sent to a secret campus to learn, or not learn, since they also throw insane parties.

The rumors of the parties. Those who attended. Those who claimed to have attended.

My head is spinning. My stomach growls. My mouth is dry. I’ve been attacked, knocked out, kidnapped, and…

The door opens.

I look athim. He’s big. Tall. Broad shoulders. A well-built chest hidden under his black T-shirt. His arms fill the short sleeves easily, with earned muscle and those thick veins running along his biceps down to his forearms, where they connect with other veins that go to his hands.

Am I really starting to eye fuck the man who attacked and kidnapped me?

It feels cliché, yet at the same time, there’s a bit of logic hitting me. Think about it.

If I’m going to die right now, or in a little while, and the guy who is going to kill me is insanely sexy… I mean… why not?

Why not get one last decent fuck? Better yet, what if I fuck him into submission and he agrees to let me go?

My brain and my vagina start to write stories that belong in the pages of a smutty book, all the while this muscular, mean-looking man moves closer toward me.

He’s wearing black jeans. I’m about eye level with a very visible and obvious bulge in his jeans. He’s not hard. He’s justbig.

“See something you like?”

His voice is deep and mean. Different from when he attacked me, which tells me he used something to change his voice.

That’s been another rumor too. That these powerful men in masks and robes used something to change their voices.

“You said you would let me out of here,” I say to my capturer.

“Incorrect, doll. I said I would move you from this room. Don’t fucking put words in my mouth.”

Chills move down my spine.

“You know I didn’t see anything. I don’t know what was going on. And I don’t really care. I was with someone at the nightclub. My best friend. She’s got to be freaking out by now.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No. Just warning you. People are going to be looking for me. I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

His right hand instantly wraps itself around my throat. I gasp for a breath but there’s zero air. It’s a clear opening for my anxiety to kick in. A perfect time for a panic attack.

He squeezes harder. There is no anxiety. There is no panic.

“Don’t fucking play that game with me,” he growls at me. “You think you’re going to scare me? You have no fucking idea who I am.”

“I… don’t…”

I utter those two words in a raspy voice.

“I’ll honor what I said to you, doll,” he says. “I’ll get you out of here. Only thing? You’re not walking out of here.”

The way he says that sends me into a panic. I claw at his wrists and try to scream, but can’t. I watch his other hand move, reaching behind him. I fully expect him to produce a gun or a knife and end my life right then and there.

---