Page 42 of The Diávolos: Part One
“Or what?” I tempt him.
Whatever he’s trying to accomplish with his threat is sending mixed signals to my body and brain. The anger I feel makes me want to disobey him, fear is begging me to bow down, and the adrenaline rush coursing through my veins wants me to run. I might crumble into pieces right here on the sidewalk. I’ve tried to avoid another authoritative figure in my life after my father’s bullshit, but here I am, attracted to my stalker’s commanding tone.
He scoffs at my disobedience. “Angelica,” he says slowly. His deep voice is curt and laced with anger. “I’m going to count to five, and if you’re not in the car, all hell will break loose, I promise you that.” The shiver that goes down my spine sends chills to my core and turns me on at the same time.
“One.”
My legs buckle a little, and suddenly, I’m no longer cold but hot—very hot.A rush of heat invades my body in flashes, and my dress feels too tight, too warm.
“Two.”
His voice is so low I can barely hear him count, but the power he radiates hits me right in the gut. I feel the fabric of my panties getting wetter. At this rate, they will be soaked in no time.
“Three.”
My heart starts racing. I’m both terrified and excited as I keep my gaze locked with his. Scared of what he’s going to do to me, yet exhilarated by the thrill of defying his threat.
“Four.”
One more second to decide whether I get in the car, giving him the satisfaction of a win, or whether I run like my life depends on it.
“Five.”
I stop breathing for a fraction of a second as I hear a seatbelt being undone.
“Run.”
I turn on my heels and sprint. I race down the street, while holding the bottom of my dress in one hand. I pump my legs as fast as I can in stilettos and look back to see the masked stranger catching up to me.
My calves are on fire and my heels hit the cement heavily, causing pain to radiate up my legs. I tear off my heels as I run and clutch them in the same hand I’m using to hold my dress. My purse slips off my shoulder and I struggle to keep it on.
A thin layer of sweat covers the nape of my neck and a bead trickles down my back as I try to outrun my stalker. It’s so dark I can barely see ahead of me. The sound of my feet slapping the asphalt and my ragged breaths is the only noise on the street. I feel like my legs and lungs are going to explode any minute.
I spot a small copse of trees up ahead, so I head toward them, hoping to outrun him. My foot nearly slips on the grass as I glance behind me, but I continue through the wooded area. I can hear his footfalls getting closer. He is only a few feet away. I become frantic, my steps pounding in time with my heartbeat, fast,too fast.
Suddenly, everything becomes a blur as I’m tackled to the ground face first, strong arms breaking my fall.
His body is on top of mine, crushing me as I struggle against him, my breaths coming in short gasps. The cool air bites into my lungs and I can feel the movements of his chest on my back, up and down, as he catches his breath. But other than that, he seems unphased by our little sprint.
“You can’t outrun a hunter, Angelica. I enjoy the chase,” he says wickedly.
“Let me go,” I spit, my eyes shutting tight in fear.
He turns me on my back and pins my wrists to the ground above my head with one hand. “I told you not to go against my word, and you did, knowing very well there would be consequences.”
He presses his masked cheek on mine, and the coldness of it sends shivers down my spine. I squirm under him to get out of his hold. I manage to release my arms and I throw them into the air, clawing at my stalker's face to remove his veil. I dig my fingers into his chin, scratching him with my nails. To stop me from moving, he places one of his palms around my neck and holds it there with enough pressure to stunt my breathing and I gag. I scrape at his arms to loosen his grip, but he’s relentless. My legs start flailing as panic sets in.
“Please. I can barely breathe,” I plead.
“That’s the best part,” he says into my ear. “Knowing that your fragile life is in my hands is part of the thrill. That if I were to put a little more weight on your chest or squeeze your throat a little harder, I could drain the life right out of you.”
“You’re an animal!” I choke out. My eyes are filled with tears, but my face isn’t the only thing that is wet…and we both know it.
I can’t move and risk suffocating. The lack of oxygen is going straight to my head, down to my stomach, right to my center. I can’t make sense of the effect he’s having on my body.
He laughs, wildly, and it sounds primal, raw. “I know you feel the same way. This excites you. I can smell your arousal from here,” he whispers into my ear, and my breath stutters. He pushes the fabric of my dress up my legs and lets his fingers trail up my inner thigh.
“No, don’t. Let me go,” I beg breathlessly. He’s two seconds away from forcing himself on me. My mind is on overdrive. I’m panicking. I don’t want him to touch me, but my body says otherwise. I don’t know who to trust. Mind over matter? Tell that to my throbbing vagina.
