Page 76 of Pretty Little Prey
Bastille had promised toshareher next time. To have three of the men fill her at once… What would it feel like to be so desired by all of them at once?
She needed to get out of there. Already, she fought off the instinct to cuddle deeper with the men, to sink into their hard chests, stroke their hair, and admire the curves and edges of their faces as they slumbered.
They helped her through the heat. For that, she was grateful.
But to stay around alpha predators who had originally kidnapped her off the streets?Danger alert. She needed out before she started to trust them, before she got attached.Before they destroy me. Rohan had taught her a very important lesson: predators did not belong with prey. They were two different genres. Two different species.
It would never work.
Alphas required someone obedient, quiet…and weak.
She never wanted to be weak again.
Every moment I spend with them, I grow weaker. She had developed a thick skin, a harsh work ethic, and an expectation for nothing above surviving. Grilled cheese sandwiches and orgasms were luxuries she could not get used to. Because once the predators tired of her, she would be thrown out on her own again, with no protection but what she could provide herself.
The predators might want me now, but in a year? Two? In a week?Luna did not allow herself to assume the best-case scenario.Prepare for the worst case, and you will BE PREPARED.
She needed to escape, for real this time.
Slowly, she extracted herself from the pile and puzzle of male limbs. Each of them had somehow maintained at least one hand on her throughout their slumber. The second she left the bed, the four men shifted in their sleep. Bastille’s mouth curved down as if his dream had suddenly turned dissatisfactory.
Already, they sensed her absence. How was she supposed to get away?
Throwing on Kobe’s old shirt, she tied the ripped fabric together. She tiptoed to the only window the shack had and peered outside.A motorcycle. An old motorcycle, from the looks of it. If the engine ran, she had a chance at escaping the predators before they could get her.
New plan was made.Time to execute it.
She held her breath, praying not to make a sound and wake anyone up as she slowly opened wooden drawers in the kitchen area. One had to have either a key or possible supplies she needed to hot-wire and steal the motorcycle. All she really needed was a screwdriver and maybe a hammer. She had only ever hot-wired a car, not a motorcycle, but she believed she could do anything with the right motivation.
Creeeaaaakkk. One of the drawers made noise, and she bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder at the bed. The men laid still. She exhaled.
This “studio apartment set up” of the shack made a silent escape trickier.
Finally, she located a screwdriver.
So close.
She eased the front door open and closed. She continued to tread lightly on her feet—careful to avoid stepping on leaves or branches—until she reached the old motorcycle.
So close.
She quickly got to work at hotwiring the bike. Her small hands worked the screwdriver into the ignition barrel. Just unscrewing some things, connecting some wires, and she’d be out of there.
Once the motorcycle purred to life, she jumped up and down and did a happy dance.I am that good.
Now, she just had to ride it to the closest town and—
“What thefuckdo you think you’re doing?”
Chapter 31
“What thefuckdo you think you’re doing?” Bastille’s voice pierced through the air, causing Luna to drop her screwdriver to the ground.
All four men now stood around the motorcycle, blocking her escape from all angles.
Nude.
Shit, she thought to herself.Did the engine wake them? Did they see me do my humiliating happy dance?She blushed but raised her chin with confidence. They did not know her. She could fool them.
