Page 12 of The Killing Game

What a great fucking joke the universe gave me.

Accepting the fact I wasn’t getting anywhere, I turn off the water. I step out of the shower with my towel wrapped around my damp body. I check my phone to see if there’s any missed messages. It’s somehow already 7:15 p.m. My stomach growls in protest, reminding me that, yes, it’s getting late. We still haven’t eaten yet since we left home this morning, skipping lunch thanks to our grim discovery.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the steamed mirror. Haunted eyes stare back from a pale face. Blue hair pulled into a messy bun. Water droplets covering the art on my arms cast a sparkle over each tattoo like galactic glitter. Beaded liquid clings to my exposed ink that sits across my breasts, just above where I tucked the towel into my armpit. The lush fabric barely covers my curves. Toned legs extended below the hem of the fabric as the towel drapes over the roundness of my behind. The intersection where the two ends of the towel meet leaves a sliver of a shadow concealing the dip where my legs meet my hips.

I sigh at my reflection.

Think happy thoughts. Everything is going to be fine. You’re just overthinking things.

I take a few deep breaths before turning to leave the bathroom.

The hallway is eerily quiet as I sneak my way to my bedroom. Glancing down to the end, Jason’s door is still closed. I really hope his sour mood won’t last all weekend. I was actually enjoying this new side of him. I never pegged him to be the dominant type. I’ll never admit it out loud, but I’m willing to test that theory should the opportunity arise.

As I reach my door, I notice it’s not closed like I left it. A small glimmer of light escapes from the edge of the door. Sam must’ve came in to borrow one of my hoodies. I push the door fully open. Nothing seems too out of place as I glance around. My duffle bag in the corner is open with a pile of clothes. I dump my phone in the end table before walking over to inspect it. As suspected, a hoodie is missing.

I dig through the bag searching for my sleep shirt and flowy shorts. Finding what I want, I turn to place everything on the bed to change. I stop short. Fear strikes through me.

On the bed is a note that definitely wasn’t there when I left to take a shower. Afraid to move, I scan the room again. Not seeing anything else out of place, I hesitantly reach out to pick it up.

Written on a yellowed notepad paper in large red letters, it reads:

“Are you ready to play, Ashe?”

Before I can register what’s happening, strong hands are on me. One arm wraps around my waist, pulling me into a toned body. The other covers my face, muffling my cry for help. Panic rises inside of me filling every nerve. I struggle against the unwelcome intruder, kicking in the air. My arms claw at the hand over my mouth trying to break free. The intruder’s grip tightens. I can feel as they lean in. Their warm breath on the back of my neck. I still. We stand there for a beat in silence.

Low and demanding, the intruder breaks the silence.

“I told you I would fill that smart mouth. What is the safe word?”

Chills radiate over my body. I wiggle my mouth free just enough to cuss back, “Jason?! What the fuck? Let me go!”

Jason chuckles and readjusts his grip on me.

“I didn’t fucking stutter, Ashe. Either tell me no or answer the question. Safe word. Now.”

He removes his hand a fraction to allow me to answer. I contemplate shoving him off, but something inside me hums at the excitement. My body wants to play. The tension in the air is heady.

“Eat a dick, Jason,” I mumble, ignoring my growing desire.

Jason loosens his grip. I try to run, making it a few feet in front of him towards the door, but I’m not fast enough. He grabs my wrist and yanks me back. I yelp at his touch. Spinning me around, Jason pulls me close. His left hand snakes around my waist with his right hand now brandishing a knife. It sets gently to my throat. I can feel every inch of him pushed up against me through my damp towel. His biceps strain against the black t-shirt he’s wearing. His jeans are flush over his toned leg he placed between my own. The fabric rubs gently over my clit. His growing erection presses against my stomach. My breath hitches.

“I’m going to ask nicely one more time. What. Is. The. Safe. Word?”

I look up at him. Dark eyes stare back clouded with want. I hold his gaze, challenging him further. I watch a feather of a smile dance across his chiseled features. My insides melt under his gaze. I’m entranced by this powerful energy I’ve never seen from him before. He digs the blade into my neck waiting for an answer. The sharp edge bites into my skin and I wince at the pain.

I take a ragged breath, giving into the darkness lurking under the surface.

“Slayer,” I rasp out.

EIGHT

7:21 P.M.

Alow growl escapes deep inside of Jason. He smirks at my submission.

With a death grip on my neck, he throws me against the wall behind me. My back slams into the cold surface, knocking the air from my lungs. I gasp at the contact; so familiar yet, this time, more intimate. The blade still at my neck, Jason’s lips crash down on mine. They’re soft in contrast to the roughness he’s taking me. He nips at my lower lip, making me gasp before invading my mouth with his tongue. My hands find their way under his shirt. I dig my nails into his chest, receiving an appreciative groan from him.

We stand there devouring each other for what feels like forever. I had always dreamed what kissing him would feel like. Rum mixed with pineapple brings up the memory of our almost kiss that fateful night. Still covered in the towel, I lean my wet body into him to deepen the kiss. If I’m going down the rabbit hole, I’m going all in.