Page 8 of Reaper

I grab the drill, and attach my drill bit, before picking up the hitching ring and, using the lag bolt, I secure it to the wall. After I fasten the chain to it, she finally speaks.

“What are you doing?”

I don’t respond. Instead, I keep working until I finish the job. Once I’m done, I place my drill back in my bag before removing her handcuffs.

“Thank you,” she says as she rubs her wrists.

I shake my head at her while I laugh.

“Don’t thank me yet, living dead girl.”

She jumps onto her knees, and shoves me in the chest, with a glare in those pretty eyes.

“Stop fucking calling me that. My name is Bella.”

I grab a fistful of her hair and yank her down onto her back. Leaning over her, I press my face to her neck, and inhale the scent of her skin. Fuck. If I have to kill her, I might need to keep that too.

“I will call you whatever I feel like, baby. You hold zero power here. The sooner you get it through your head, the better off you’ll be.”

Letting go of her hair, I move my hand to her throat and squeeze. Her eyes widen in response and the tingling is back. Like a separate physical force in this room. Real and visceral, the need to kill her is strong, and I don’t know if I can fight it.

I want to keep her, but I also want to watch her die.

Grabbing her hair again, I pull her off the bed with me, while she screams and tears once again spring to her eyes. Dragging her to the wall, I shove her to the floor. She lays there helplessly, her beautiful gaze on mine, as I hold her down with my foot on her chest.

“Hold still, or I will cut your fucking eyeballs out right now, and end you.”

Her breaths come out heavy and harsh, I can feel them on my bare foot, and fuck, it gets my dick so hard. Pulling the shackle from the floor, I motion for her arm and she gives it to me willingly. I’m not completely delusional. I do know if she had a choice, she’d be on her feet running from me. Again.

Once I have the one restrained, I nod for her other and do the same. I remove my foot from her, and she scrambles up with herback to the wall. Her blonde hair is a mess, blue eyes wide with panic, cheeks flushed, and her chest rises and falls quickly with shallow breaths. She couldn’t look more alluring than she does right now if she tried. I squat down in front of her, taking in every fucking gorgeous feature. Too many to count.

She reaches up with one of her shackled wrists, and brushes her messy hair from her face.

“You have enough length to go to the bathroom, and even look out the window, if you choose to view the outside world through bars. You won’t get further than that. As bad as you might think things are right now, don’t fuck with me, baby. Things can, and will, get a lot worse.”

“I understand,” she says, but clearly she doesn’t, because in her very next breath, she swings her arms up and wraps the chain around my throat, pulling as tight as she’s probably capable of. I smile as she cuts off my air, because how fucking beautiful is this?

CHAPTER SEVEN

BELLA

“Harder,” he says with a hoarse voice.

Harder? He is certifiably insane. That is not a normal reaction to someone pulling a chain against your throat, and trying to kill you to save themself.

The fact that he says it with a damn smile on his face should be even more terrifying, yet I find it intriguing. I’ll admit, I watch a lot of serial killer documentaries. The minds of the corrupt and evil have always interested me. Right now is not the time for curiosity. It’s the time to kill this asshole before he kills me, so I push it all aside and grip the chain on either side and pull harder. His eyes darken, and he wraps both his hands around my throat, and pushes me onto the floor. My hands slipped away from the chain when he moved me, but it still sits around his neck. He grins at me like the psycho he clearly is.

“Change of plans, baby. I’m going to fuck you, and then I’ll kill you.”

He keeps one hand on my throat, my thighs between his legs, and with his free hand, yanks open my shirt while I buck my hips up, trying to throw him off of me.

Chuckling, he says, “Yes. Fucking fight me.”

I place both hands on his chest, and try to push him forcefully, but he’s like a boulder. Unmoveable.

He pulls my bra down, exposing one of my breasts, and leans forward, biting my nipple hard, and causing me to scream in pain.

Using his knee, he separates my legs and pulls my skirt up, before undoing his pants and pulling out his cock.

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