Page 38 of Traithorn

“Only if you ask nicely,” he smirks. His voice is a threatcaressing my skin, eyes glinting with darkness only I can perceive.

When he finally lets go of my neck, I’m embarrassingly wet.

“The chase has only begun,” Celine muses as she helps her twin lift me to my feet.

The T-shirt is crumpled, mascara running down my cheeks, my knees dirtied from the mud mixed with snow of the forest, hands tied behind my back by silk—I’m their gift once again.

Celine spanks my ass, making me yelp, before she shoves me forward in the indication that I should start running. And running I fucking do.

I run as fast and as far as my legs physically carry me, all as the thoughts of what I’m leaving behind tear at my throat and my heart.

Casper…dead.

My heart breaks because despite how much he fucking hurt me with his toxic ass, I never wanted him to die.

He will never hurt you again.

A voice in my head tries to resonate, and I push my legs faster in the hope of outrunning my destructive thoughts. I don’t have time to stop, and my lungs are begging for breath.

They promised to let me go if I managed to escape them, and freedom is so close. Adrenaline floods my veins as the branches start tearing at me again, leaving small scratches that sting with the promise of blood.

Snow falls in heavy drifts, restricting my view as I flee for my life. An opening offers me a semblance of hope, but the seed withers when powerful arms curl around my waist and force me into the snow-covered foliage, drowning me in its coldness once more.

Burning fingers wrap around the column of my throat as I struggle to get free, but it’s impossible. I see Celine walking toward us, a winter jacket wrapped tightly around her that Ifailed to notice earlier. There’s a metal baseball bat in her hands, its end narrower than the top, the surface speckled with what looks like blood.

“Plot twist: we’re keeping you anyway,” she says, smirking.

My heart instantly drops when she refers to her words back at the castle, about being free if I managed to escape them.

“I’m a bit disappointed. I thought it would be harder catching you,” Vernon whispers in my ear.

“Fuck you! Let me go,” I sneer.

Celine only chuckles, the sound grating on my nerves. “Oh, little traitor.”

Burying his head in the crook of my neck, Vernon stays there, breathing me in. “Don’t run from predators. We love the hunt.”

“It was you who told me to fucking run!”

“And you obeyed. Such a good little girl.”

Suddenly, Vernon throws himself down on the ground, with me on top of him, Celine coming up behind him. The snow surrounds him, clinging to his hair with the falling flakes. Despite the darkness and menace oozing out of him, he protects me from the unforgiving cold by keeping me above him.

I go stiff when I notice Celine having picked up the baseball bat, the smaller piece flat against my thighs, tickling me. Her grip, along with her nails pressing hard into my skin, causes little beads of blood to trickle down. My breath hitches, before she spreads my legs, Vernon helping her by locking them with his. The baseball bat comes closer, and I start trembling as the tip of it reaches the outside of my panties.

Teasing my opening, I whimper. Too aroused mixed with embarrassment.

“Celine,” I moan, not prepared for what she’s about to do next.

I cry out, lunging in Vernon’s hold, when the tip of the baseball bat pushes my panties to the side before brushing against my opening.

“I want to make you sob both with pleasure and pain,” she whispers, pushing the bat deeper, carefully.

She moves the object in and out of me, wet sounds escaping, tears sliding down my cheek.

“Such a beautiful fucking traitor,” Vernon whispers in my ear, half-sitting up so I’m still laying with my back against his chest.

I’m humiliated, yet I’ve never felt as fucking turned out.

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