Page 88 of Lost to the Woods

I slip my fingers out of her and have her clean my glove before I grab a chain leash off the table and clip it to the ring on her collar.

“Come, sweetheart,” I murmur as I unfasten her binds, helping her off the cross. “You have a guest.”

She blinks at me, confused through her haze as I force her onto her hands and knees.

“You promised him a date, after all.”

21. Ghost

Bunny crawls by my side as we move into the dark main room, then I have her sit on her heels and wait like a good little pet she is.

The door creaks open. Heavy sets of feet stomp across the wooden floor, dirt and old, dried leaves trailing behind. And then, a body hits the ground with a loud thump.

The kid coughs, groaning, already bloodied. Doruun shoves him, hooves clicking on the floorboards as he works with the rope, fastening him securely in place.

Zhyra moves to light a few candles around. The fire flickers against the rough-hewn logs, casting long, writhing shadows. Mark’s tied to that old wooden chair, his clothes ripped, leaving him naked, his skin a mess of red slashes from my brothers’ claws.

He looks up, dazed, and his eyes immediately lock onto Bunny. The horror in his face? Delicious.

And then there’s she.

My sweet, trembling little bunny, kneeling at my feet like she belongs there. Because she does.

“Bunny, darling,” I purr. “You remember your new friend, don’t you?"

Her eyes are wild, wet, panicked. She shakes her head weakly, but I know she remembers.

She’s the reason he’s here.

“Ghost,” she breathes, voice raw. “What the hell are you doing?”

I ignore her, stepping closer to the chair where he sits.

I grab him by the nape, my fingers digging deep into his flesh, holding him like a caught animal. He tries to fight it, but I’m too strong.

“Look at her.”

He whimpers, but I drag him forward with the chair until he’s inches from her, forcing him to look at her—at her bared, violated body, leashed and vulnerable, coated in wax, in sweat, in her own juices.

“I said—look at her.”

And he does.

I watch his pupils expand. I smell the shift in his blood—the rush of fear, of shame, of something filthier. Even now, bound, terrified, he wants her.

She’s exposed, shivering, but she’s not trying to cover herself.Good girl.She knows better. Or maybe she’s just frozen in place. Either way, she looks sweet enough to eat.

“See how fucking pretty she is when she obeys?” I growl, my voice rough, edged with something dark and hungry.

Mark’stryingnot to stare—or pretending—but he’s breathing hard, naked, already half-hard despite himself. Pathetic fucker can’t help it.

I grin behind my mask and move around and tighten my grip on the leash, making her gasp. “Lick my boots, Bunny.”

A whimper escapes her, but she doesn’t hesitate. She bends forward, her pink tongue darting out, lapping at the dirtand dried blood caked on my boot like she’s desperate for it. The chain rattles as she moves, the sound mixing with Mark’s ragged breathing.

“Fuck,” Varekka mutters from the corner, shifting where he stands. I don’t have to look to know he’s palming himself.

They’re all restless, all aching. The room’s thick with it—the scent of fear and arousal, the kind of tension that coils tight before it snaps.

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