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I push myself further back until I hit the wet, cold wall behind me, and I wonder what his plan is. There’s no fire here, if there was, it wouldn’t have been so damn cold and humid all the time.
The strands of terror sear their way through my body all over again as he stalks toward me, playing with the branding iron, rotating it around in his hand, that stupid grin showing his menacing teeth.
“I know what you’re thinking, little bird… but the lack of a fire won’t stop me from using this here.”He gestures to the branding iron.“I will leave my fucking mark on you. I will use it until it’s imprinted on your skin by sheer fucking force, through cuts and bruises.”
And I believe him, oh fuck, how I believe him…
“I know that’s what you like, that’s what you crave. I can see it in your eyes, little bird, you crave the pain.”
But I don’t. Not like this… not like this…
The terror grows, the adrenaline spikes, I start shaking uncontrollably at the terrifying prospect of what’s to come and I scream… oh, how I fucking scream.
HIM
“Wake up! Wake the fuck up, woman! You’re having a nightmare! It’s okay, you’re safe!”
And that there is the first lie I’ll tell this woman. She’s not safe, not by a fucking long-shot. On this mountain, there’s no escape for her. Even if I wanted to give her the chance.
I shake her awake with more force than is necessary. She’s sweaty from the nightmare she just had, shaking like a fucking leaf in a storm, and every muscle in her body is so tight, I’m surprised her bones aren’t breaking with the sheer force of the tension.
Her eyes dart open, and for a split second I see the beauty in them before she looks down in fear.
Christ, she’s gorgeous!
She never looks at me long enough, though. It bothers me because there's something there, something of interest, something that I want, and I need to see what it is.
I see the fidgeting and I follow her train of thought through all the possibilities she's thinking of, right up to the point she realizes I am not the same man that she escaped from.
I can tell she wants to look around, to see where she is, but she doesn’t dare move, not even her eyes.
Should I throw her a bone? Let her relax before she realizes that meeting me might not necessarily be better than the situation she came from? She might have escaped him, but she’s in the fucking belly of the beast right now. I am the kraken and this little siren landed right between my tentacles.
“You’re okay.” I finally make my choice and throw her a metaphoric bone. “Stay there in front of the fire, you’re still cold. You need to warm up.” I get up from my knees and head to the kitchen. I press the button on the kettle and get a cup from a top cabinet before I turn around to look at her.
She’s sitting now, clutching the fur blanket for dear life against her chest, like it’s her fucking soul and she’s holding on to it. She’s watching me, but not directly. Her eyes so wide, so tense and still, like she’s calculating her chances, wondering how bad of a situation she ended up in. Wondering if she should take a shot and dart out the door now or take advantage of the fire and pick the right time later.
But she still doesn’t move.
I turn my back to her, grinning like an idiot, just to see what choice she makes. I’m not a fool, I know she heard my threat when I caught her in my arms in the woods, but it doesn’t matter. Her fate is pretty much sealed. There’s no escape, not unless I want to create it.
As I drop a teabag in the cup, I hear her shifting suddenly, running towards the hallway opposite the fireplace, where the front door is visible from her position. She runs like her fucking life depends on it, even with her battered feet, but it’s futile. Even if she’s stronger and warmer now, it takes me only a few steps to reach her and grab her petite body in my arms as she kicks and screams like a banshee.
Oh, but how that sound fuels me, how it throws kindling on the fire and the flames burn higher. How I want to pin her against the wall, rip that blanket away from her body, lift her to just the right height and shove my cock inside of her. In one thrust. To the fucking hilt.
She has no fucking clue what that sound does to me.
I put one hand on her mouth as I press her curvy, soft body to my own.
“Maybe I need to remind you that whoever you were running from might still be out there looking for you. I have a feeling he’s not very happy that you escaped, and it will be a looonnng time until he actually gives up. Am I right, little siren?”
Her kicking turns into shoving, trying to push herself away from my body and her screams have now died down to grunts. It’s not panic anymore, no, this is all her. This is her strength coming back, her survival instincts reminding her of who she used to be.
No matter. I like her better like this anyway—strong and unyielding. My dick grows even harder when the mindless fear mixes with the primal instinct, because the fight in them is even more appealing.
I love it when they scream though. I love the fucking sharp melody ripping from their throats. It fuels the fire burning around the demons lurking through my mind. She will scream for me, that delightful siren’s song, soon enough. But for now, I want her to keep her mouth shut until that motherfucker leaves my mountain.
I need to hear her story, find out who he is… who she is. I’ll get him either way, but what she tells me might make my job easier.
