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Chapter 3
Spike
I watch the bitch leave the hospital wrapped in a man’s arms, flanked by another man. How dare they have what’s mine. I’ve had every part of her body in my mouth. She’s mine. I’ve tasted her blood and tears. She’s mine.
I bang my hands down on the steering wheel repeatedly. I pound out every ounce of frustration. I can’t cope with this now. She’s mine. She shouldn’t have left me. She should have stayed where I left her.
“Why can’t women obey fucking orders?” I growl out and bite down on my lip. Tasting the metallic blood releases a sense of power throughout my body.
I need a release.
I follow the truck that holds my woman. With every passing second, I get angrier. I feel like I’m drooling like a rabid dog. I can feel the venom running through my veins. I need to inflict this pain on another.
I need a release.
Ten minutes later, the truck steers off into a secure compound. What is this, a fucking fort? Security lines the gates, and high rise electric fences surround the perimeter. What are they, celebrities? Fuck my life!
I run my hands through my hair and pull it hard, feeling strands break free from my scalp, and the sting burns. The pain is a welcome distraction. Now, I need to plan on how I’m getting my bitch back. And I will get her back. I’ll make it my top priority. In the meantime, I’ve got somewhere to be.
I tear through the streets of Chicago, not caring who catches me, or if I run anyone over. The more pain and destruction I cause, the better I feel. The calmer I am.
I pull up my old battered truck outside the cottage where Aria escaped from. I stupidly didn’t click the lock in place, and it cost me my prize possession. A mistake I’ll regret until I get her back. A mistake that will haunt me forever.
I barge into the tiny cabin. The door bangs against the wall making everything shake. I burst into the room, hauling off my jacket, unbuckling my belt. The young woman shackled to my wall is whimpering like a coward. I tear the gag from her mouth, pulling her chin up to look me in the eye.
“It’s just you and me now, Sophia. That little bitch has left you. She didn’t care about you. I told you I was the only one that cared enough about you.”
“That’s not true,” sobs Sophia.
Tears and weakness are the biggest power boosts I can get. I don’t need energy drinks and sugar when I have fear coursing through my prey. I love to see them begging me to let them go. I can give them a little hope and extend the leash, but I like to drag them back into my claws slowly, watching the fear cloud their features, before they end up a sobbing mess at my feet.
“Now, now, little one. You should be seen and not heard. I wish you would remember that.” The sound of my hand slapping reverberates off her cheek.
I step out of my pants and underwear. My hard cock springs to life, making me smile proudly. I wrap my hand around the girth, rubbing, caressing, squeezing.
“You like this, don’t you, little one? Now, we’ll have fun since it’s just you and me.”
I rip open her shirt, buttons flying everywhere. Her naked body makes me salivate. I drag her legs apart and run my hands up them. She kicks out, fighting me, hurting me. I wrap my hand around her neck and feel her body tense, her arms pulling at the restraints. In a matter of moments, her body goes limp, and her sounds are no more. She’s silent. And the celebrations can begin.
No one hurts me.
“Bad girls go to hell.”
I tilt my head back and laugh until my muscles ache.
I won… again.
