Page 110 of Goldsin

I round the corner and see the kitchen door looming ahead. Sprinting, I head toward it, but a vase perched on a small table catches my attention. Without hesitation I throw it behind me, sending it crashingdown onto whoever is following me, hopefully slowing them down and giving me enough time to search for a knife.

They probably hid every dangerous utensil for the party ... or maybe not. After all, what fun would it be for their twisted games if they couldn’t play a little?

Yanking open the drawer closest to me, air whooshes from my lips at the sight of glinting blades.Of course they didn’t put the knives away.They want the foxes to have some fun.

I wrap my fingers around the handle just as a body slams into me from the side. Air gets knocked out of me along with the knife as it slides from my grasp. Cold tile stings my cheeks next as I land with a hard thud.

“Let go!” I shout as desperation fuels me to get myself free.

Wrestling, I struggle against the mass of the body pinning me down. But it’s futile. Whoever is above me knows how to restrain a body. The thought leaves a lingering sense of dread as adrenaline surges within me. I throw my elbow behind me in a haphazard manner and hit something hard. The painful grunt that follows confirms I got the asshole in the face.

He pushes himself off my back, distracted by the unexpected blow, and I use the opportunity to roll onto my side and push him further away, until I’m free to drag myself toward the knife.

“Get back here!”

I’m too busy stretching my fingers toward the blade to identify who he is, let alone to follow his orders. I feel my nails break with the pressure I’m putting them underas I claw at the floor, trying anything to reach the knife faster.

“You little bitch,” I hear him snarl.

My fingers are inches away from the knife—so close that when his hand latches onto my ankle and yanks me away I scratch my skin on the blade as I make one last futile attempt at grasping it.

I kick my legs wildly. “Get off me!” My voice is raw as I shout.

Then a hollowness spreads in my stomach at the feel of his cold hand climbing up my bare leg, under my dress.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” I say from between clenched teeth.

Twisting, I try to put some distance between the sickening feeling of his hand and my body. But the closer he gets between my legs, the more his grip turns to iron. He is stronger than me. I need to find another way to fight him. If not with my body, then with my words, like Valentine taught me. I’ll need to use this fucker’s lust against him if I have any chance of escaping.

“Is this the best you can do?” My heart thuds at the back of my throat as I try not to show how weak I sound. “Don’t you want to look at me?”

Silence.

I shut my eyes, praying he falls for it.

Please, please, please.

“Don’t you want me to look at you?”

Acid burns up my throat at what I’m about to say. “If you take me from the back, I can picture whoever I like ...”

A groan greets my ears, and then I’m being turned onto my back, no grace in the movement as I match his groan with one of my own. Pain radiates from the back of my head as it meets the icy tile.

At least the plan worked. Now I’m face-to-face with him.

And an old, polished fox mask.

He laughs, parting my legs with his lower body and pressing his erection between them, making me hiss at the sensation. My hands get pinned above my head as I feel a hopelessness like I’ve never felt before.

“You little sluts always squirm, don’t you? Always trying to free yourselves, but you fail to understand you’re just making us harder.” He leans in. “And harder.”

Then a stinging sensation spreads across my right cheek. His hand’s midair after having slapped me hard. My vision blurs, and a metallic taste swims in my mouth from biting my lip.

“Rule number two. The rabbits can run for however long they please, but once they get captured, they need to fully submit,” he repeats, almost scolding me. “Tell me you’ll be thinking about someone else again and I’ll make the whole Inferno Consortium fuck you into unconsciousness. You’ll wish it were just me.”

A heaviness tightens in my chest at identifying his voice.

My mouth dries at his words, because I know how much truth they hold. He isn’t just talking. He means the threat. He did the same with my mother, passed her around like a hand-me-down.

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