Page 97 of Stalk the Dark
He slammed into me from behind, taking me down. I was pinned, trapped as his claws raked at my clothes, burning my skin. There was no doubt what he wanted from me, and terror spiked sharp and jarring. “No! Stop! Ordell, no!”
Fiery pain exploded in my shoulder, and a bloodcurdling scream burst from my throat.
He’d bitten me. He’d— “No! No!” I kicked and squirmed, trying to get free as he tore at my leggings, his pants and grunts eclipsing my protests. Cold air kissed my bare thighs. I screamed again, and he palmed my head and slammed my face to the ground, pinning me. I felt his arousal against me.
Terror and panic squeezed my lungs. “Don’t. Please…don’t…”
Another voice cut through the night. “Ordell. Stop!”
Ordell growled, the sound one of menace, and the world lit up bright orange.
I was suddenly free.
For a moment, I couldn’t move, my body a trembling mass saturated with adrenaline.
“Orina, run!”
Hemlock? Hemlock was here!
I scrambled up, gathering the torn fabric of my outfit around me to see Hemlock standing several meters away, palms up and glowing while Ordell floated two feet off the ground, his body in suspended animation.
“Go!” he ordered. “I can’t hold him for much longer. Take the path. Follow it. NOW!”
I ran.
My shoulder burnedwhere Ordell had bitten me, his teeth marks deep and crimson against my skin but already healing. I cleaned the wounds anyway, then pulled on fresh clothes. Was Hemlock okay? How had he held Ordell in the air like that? He had abilities, obviously. Ordell had said they weren’t pure human, but this…I hadn’t expected this.
It was an hour before I heard movement in the corridor outside my room. I hurried out in time to seeHemlock unlock his door. He was hunched over, one hand clasped to his chest. And was that blood?
“Fuck!” I rushed over to him.
“No…” He tried to wave me off, grunting in pain when the action tugged at his wounds. “I can?—”
“Shut up.” I glared up at him. There was so much that I wanted to say—thank you for saving me, fuck you for not telling me the truth about you guys, and thank you again for fucking saving me—but all that could wait. “Just shut up and let me do this, okay?”
He nodded mutely, and I followed him into his room. The drapes were open, the cozy space bathed in moonlight. Rumpled bedsheets, desk cluttered with books and notepaper. More books on the floor by his bed.
He reached over his shoulder and tore off his shirt with an aching cry, and I bit back a gasp at the golden veins branching across his skin and crisscrossing over the deep claw marks running across his torso.
“The drawer.” He fell to his knees with another cry. “The whip.”
I moved on autopilot to retrieve his whip and held it out to him, confused and numb. What the fuck was going on here?
He took it, and I stepped away as he brought his arm up to lash at his back. The motion yanked at his chest wound, and he let out a strangled cry, swallowing a gasp and a sob. The golden veins on his skin burned brighter.
“Orina…please…” He held out the whip.
I took a step back. “No. I can’t.”
He lifted his head, eyes blazing with a tumult of emotions I couldn’t read. “You wanted to help, so fucking help me. Hit me. Do it, or we’re all fucking dead.”
I didn’t understand any of this, but my gut told me to go with it. I took the whip, positioned myself behind him, took a deep breath, and brought it down on his beautiful skin.
“Harder!”
I hit him again.
“Are you trying to fucking tickle me?”
