My chest heaves. “Please… just leave him out of this.”
“No,” he says it simply, like the answer was decided long before today. “You’re going to choose, kitten.”
“Choose what?” I ask, every instinct telling me I won’t like whatever comes next.
“You become my toy…” He lets the words hang there, slow and deliberate. Then the gun steadies on Cain’s chest. “Or your boytoy bleeds to death.”
My breath catches. For one horrible moment, everything inside me locks up before my pulse starts hammering so hard it hurts.
“Tick tock, kitten.” He cocks his head to the side. “I don’t have all day.”
Chapter 17
Sierra
The first crack of metal against bone is so sudden my brain refuses to process it. Cain jerks sideways as the gun smashes across his face; blood spills from his mouth instantly, bright against his skin, and he stumbles sideways with a curse swallowed in pain.
My eyes widen so hard they sting. Fear clamps down on me, sharp and brutal.
“Okay, okay, stop!” I scream at him, the words breaking apart as they leave me.
“Okay, okay, what?” he asks, mockingly.
Before I can answer, he swings again. The gun crashes into Cain’s jaw with enough force to send him to the floor. His body hits hard, his head bouncing once against the floor before everything goes still.
“No! Cain!” A raw cry tears out of me. “Please,” I sob, my voice shaking so badly I barely recognize it. “Please, I’m begging you. Leave him alone. Please.”
I’m crying too hard to breathe properly, my chest hitching with every desperate inhale. Only then does he look at me.
He starts walking closer, unhurried, stepping around Cain’s unconscious body as if he’s nothing more than furniture in the way. Every slow step sends fresh terror crashing through me. When he reaches me, he lifts one gloved hand and brushes the tears from under my eye with a softness so wrong it makes nausea twist in my stomach.
The slap lands a heartbeat later.
My head snaps to the side. Heat blooms across my cheek so suddenly my eyes water harder than before. His hand closes around my jaw, forcing my face back toward him before I can make a sound. He leans in until I can feel the threat of him all around me, then slowly lifts the visor of his helmet.
The second I look at him, my breath catches. There’s something hauntingly familiar about the darkness in his eyes.
He brings the gun to me slowly, pressing it against the bare skin between my breasts. The cold metal kisses my flesh and sends goosebumps racing violently across my body.
My breath catches as he drags it upward, inch by inch, over my sternum and along the delicate line of my throat until the barrel settles beneath my chin, forcing my head higher.
A dark chuckle rumbles out of him.
“Fighting me is just going to make this more fun for me and a lot worse for you,” he growls, the words hitting me like a violent storm.
“Kill me then!” I yell, the last word cracking apart anyway.
“You think I’m here to kill you? No, kitten. Death would be a kindness—and I’m not feeling very kind today.”
He brings the gun up slowly, dragging the barrel along my lips with a gentleness that feels more dangerous than anything else he’s done.
“Let’s see what else that pretty mouth of yours can do—besides run.”
Then he pushes the barrel past my lips.
“Suck it,” he orders quietly, in a tone that makes it clear he expects obedience.
His other hand begins to roam my bare body, slow and deliberate, like he has all the time in the world, and every inch of me already belongs to him.
