Page 73 of Brat Baby
I have to fight really fucking hard to stop thoughts of dark, malicious eyes and even darker curls. I’m safe here. Tray hasn’t found me. And even if he has, he isn’t smart enough to figure out how to get into this building.
Plus, there is Rambo downstairs and three separate swipe panels. It’s most likely that the building lost power.
Everything is fine.
As I find the taps, relief starts to burn away at the nerves that have taken over my mind.
Cool air swirls around me, and I only have a second to acknowledge that there shouldn’t be any cold air in this shower before a large hand wraps around my throat, squeezing, and drags me back until my back is against a warm, solid body.
A warm, solid,hard, nakedmale body.
Oh shit.
My throat constricts on the partially inhaled air, and I instinctively raise my hands up to the hand and pull as hard as I can, lungs screaming for a single inhale. Real fear tears through my veins as I come to the conclusion that no matter how much I yank, scratch, or fight, I can’t get him to let go.
I can hear the choking noises coming from my throat as I gasp and try to get in even a tiny mouthful of air. My lungsburn. I need fucking air, right now.
If he won’t let go, then he is going to have to hold all of me.
The man grunts as he is forced to take all my weight after I bend my knees. As soon as he is hunched over me, I throw my head back and nail him in what is hopefully his nose. There is an angry groan, which makes my heart spike. But I don’t give a fuck. I’m not fucking dying in the shower of a fuck apartment.
Heart hammering, I reach for his arm again and manage to get it slightly loosened, but any success I might have found is destroyed when his other hand comes into play. With the practiced ease of someone who has attacked hundreds of people, I’m turned toward the wall and shoved against it, face-first, my cheekbone glancing off the cold tile.
Pain flares, but I don’t stop trying to get away. I kick back with my foot and try to scratch at the arm that has its hand lost in my hair, pulling it so hard, I think it might actually come out.
But then I hear it. The noise that tells me that I’m ultimately going to lose this battle but that also settles something in my heart.
Aschnickof a blade popping free.
There is a dark, quiet laugh as I slump against the wall. “Oh, don’t go quiet now, little dove. Fight for your life. Show me how much you want it. I’d love to watch your blood swirling with the water as it runs down your body.”
Hunter.
Adrenaline makes it hard to think, and I might throw up. My entire body trembles from a combination of confusion, terror, being pressed against the cold tiles, and no longer being under the warm spray of the water.
A thin line of fire runs down my spine, from the base of my neck all the way to my tailbone. I suck in a breath when the blade starts to dip between my ass cheeks.
Am I really going to stand here and let him do this to me?
Fuck, no.
Pressing both palms into the tiles, I shove my entire body back. There is a painful zing on the inside of my crack, and for a second, I think I may have impaled myself on the blade, but then it’s gone and the pain doesn’t increase.
My tiny moment of hesitation costs me, though.
After a harsh tap to each of my ankles, my legs are spread apart, and I have to scrabble to get purchase against the slick tiles.
The knife reappears, aimed at the base of my throat. “Good girl, that’s it. Save yourself.”
The words are gravelly and quiet, right next to my ear, lifting all the tiny hairs along the curve of my neck and down my shoulder blade.
My eyes close as the blade shifts with each of my breaths. I’m definitely going to have a mark there with how the skin is sparking with pain.
Will he really hurt me? Like actually hurt, not kinky hurt. One is fun, and the other is so definitely not.
The thought paralyzes me, because I don’t really know the answer to that question, do I? I barely know this man. And he has always been on a leash held by the other three. But now, it’s just the two of us, and he fantasizes about my blood spilling from the cuts he makes in my skin.
“Don’t tell me all your fight is gone.” The mocking tone of his voice irritates the fuck out of me. “I expected you to have a little more in you.”
