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His hand loosened and she nodded, sensing danger. He uncovered her mouth and raised a finger to his lips. His anger was a palpable thing. Violet nodded her understanding. She didn’t fight when he took her by the arms and pushed her back, sitting her down on a large rock like a child. He gave her a long look that she assumed meantstay, then turned and disappeared so fast the shock of it made her gasp.
“Kyle, Robert, nice night to hike.” His low voice rumbled in the silence up ahead, and shock crawled through Violet.
Shewasbeing followed. The thought of what might have happened if Mikel hadn’t found her turned her stomach.“You’re a piece of property that can be borrowed or stolen or used by idiots like Jason,”he’d said, and the reality of how much danger she was in dawned on her, left her sick.
The forest was quieter now, like it was holding its breath.
“Mikel Davis,” a voice said. “You looking for the bitch in heat too?”
Violet jumped at the growl that answered the words, low and rough and loud in the night.
“She’s claimed, mine,” Mikel said.
Goose bumps rose on Violet’s arms, across her thighs.
“Smells like she ain’t nobody’s yet,” another voice countered.
Then silence. It stretched for one breath, three, five. Violet squinted ahead into the darkness, swallowed, and stood. It was near impossible to move quietly across the forest floor. Dried leaves and twigs crunched underfoot while she tried to creep forward.
“Go home.” Mikel’s voice rumbled, low in the night.
She let out a quiet breath and leaned around a tree, finding the clearing where the three of them stood, postures drawn tight and chests puffed wide.
“Gon’ kill us like your daddy slaughtered that town?” one of them asked.
Mikel’s hands balled into fists at his sides, but other than that, he was deadly still. The silence was loaded.
“If I have to,” Mikel said. The words sounded like a promise, low, unhurried, and absolute.
Violet watched one of the men run a hand over his beard, watched both of them shift on their feet.
“Come on, Kyle. It ain’t worth the time,” his companion said, stepping back.
Mikel and the man were staring still, intent crackling in the air. He was a head taller than either of his opponents, twice as wide, but Violet doubted he’d walk away unhurt if they fought. Guilt came cold to call, and anger was on its heels—she’d only wanted to go home, yet she felt bad.
“You watch yourself, Davis.” Kyle finally sniffed and stepped down.
He shook out his arms, looking around, then locked eyes with her. Violet was so shocked by it that she couldn’t bring herself to move, to look away while a smile that made her sick broke over his face. She yelped at the crack of Mikel’s fist against his jaw. Pressed herself tight against the tree as the sound of a scuffle broke out. Then boots crunched away from her across dried leaves.
Silence.
Minutes passed. The forest came to life again around her: the soft chirp of an owl overhead and the rustle of a small night-time animal across the clearing. Violet stayed pressed against the tree, shivering, breathing, crying. She wiped roughly at the tears on her cheeks, forcing down the voice inside her that was growing to a fever pitch of desperation and wishing over and over that she could just go home.
Underneath was guilt. She’d agreed not to go outside. Mikel was a psycho, but he’d fed her, clothed her, smiled that stupid crooked smile at her over the counter in the kitchen, and she’d never meant for him to get hurt. She closed her eyes.
Cold fingers closed around her throat, and Violet screamed. She blinked up at Mikel, and the sound died in her chest, leaving only her ragged breathing against the backdrop of the night.
“Why can’t you listen?” he demanded, but she was stunned, still stupid with shock, and strange warm relief at the sight of him, unharmed but furious with irises blazing gold. “What’s it going to take?”
He pressed in close. The pressure on her neck tightened enough to be uncomfortable, and he was burning, white hot, quick, and wild. Violet swallowed and couldn’t find her voice, couldn’t find the words to bring life to her relief, to all her anger, or to the sadness underneath. His green eyes were alight, boring into her, while her hands clutched tight around his wrist.
“Get off me.” The words finally made their way past her lips.
His hold loosened just barely but not enough to let her up from where she was pressed against the tree. His chest was heaving, and he was hot against her cold body, skin silver in the light of the moon. The charge between them was electric. All her nerves were coiled, ready to fire, and she wanted to tear him apart and press herself in close all in the same breath.
Violet watched him wet his lips, swallow, and suck in a breath like he’d heard the thought, like he could feel the sick heat gathering in her belly. She’d barely drawn a breath then he was kissing her. It took a second for her brain to catch up, to process the scrub of his stubble and the heat of his mouth. Then, her fingers fisted in his shirt, and she was kissing him back in some strange catharsis.
It was animal, dark, rough, and consuming, that need to rip him apart with her bare hands and to hold him captive with kisses. She molded to the tree under his weight; the release of pressure was addicting. His hand slid around her waist and pushed between her and the tree, taking hold of her by the ass, while pulling her forward so her hips ground into him. Her voice caught in her throat, loud in the night, at the feel of him against her, already hard and hot, even through their jeans.
