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I stood there in silence, trapped in her spell. When she gasped and whispered, horrified by the blood on me, I moved. I didn’t think, I wasn’t in control any longer. The monster inside of me clawed its way out and demanded I claim this woman while covered in the blood of its victim.
As I had begun to expect, Paige’s inner demons called to mine and responded in ways that took my breath away. When she pleaded to let go, calling out my name, I lost it. It took everything in me to hold off for her to finish, and the feeling of her walls pulsating around my cock was beyond words. Addictive, necessary. I now needed to feel it again and again. A desperate need that mirrors the bloodlust that consumes me.
I reach down and pinch the end of my dick, the pressure building deep has me concerned I’m going to come again just from the ghost of her haunting my thoughts. Cursing again, I make quick work of cleaning the remaining evidence off my skin and hair before stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around my waist. I step up to the sink and quickly brush my teeth, my eyes drawing down to the toothbrush laying next to my toothpaste.
I spit into the sink and set my own down and pick up the new brush, bringing it to my lips. She went through my things, found a way to bring comfort, made herself at home. I look into the mirror and find my reflection looking back at me, a wicked grin covering my face.
Paige may try to pretend that she doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want me, but she can’t lie to herself. She’s already coming to accept who she is and who she belongs to.
Slowly setting down the toothbrush, I turn and head back into the bedroom, ready to show her just how much she wants me.
I stretch my arm out and panic when I feel the space beside me is empty. Patting around, I feel that the mattress is cold, meaning it’s been empty for a while.
Shooting upright, I look around and don’t see Paige anywhere in the room. My eyes narrow on the open bedroom door.
No, she wouldn’t dare. I told her what would happen.
A low rumble sounds deep in my chest as I fling back the covers and stalk out of the room. A quick search proves that she did, in fact, dare.
My black-haired beauty has flown away.
Slowly, I make my way back to the bedroom and pull on clothes, steadying myself with deep breaths.
She may have run, but I will find her. When I do, she’ll learn that there’s no escaping me, not now that I’ve touched her, tasted her. She’s screamed, come and bled for me. There is no longer a her without me and there won’t ever again be a me without her.
I step into the bathroom and my attention is immediately drawn to the mirror. Across the glass, scrawled in toothpaste, Paige has left me a message.
I belong to no one.
Chuckling, I relieve myself and finish cleaning up, rereading the note over and over.
As I step out of the house, keys in hand, I feel an excited anticipation building for my hunt.
My little bird thinks she can fly free, we’ll see about that.
Chapter 12
Paige
I stumble again, cursing as I scrape my knees and hands before righting myself. I’ve been at this for hours, trying to find my way back somewhere familiar. I had no idea where Mick had put my phone and couldn’t risk searching around to try and find it.
Now I’m wishing I had spent at least a few minutes looking because I’m completely useless without the device. I knew I needed my phone but I didn’t realize how dependent I am on the stupid little thing.
UGH. If I get out of this, I’m teaching myself geography, or at least how to read a fucking map.
Not that that particular skill would help me right now, since I don’t actually have a map. But it still seems like something I should know how to do for the next time a psychotic, murdering Greek god decides to kidnap me and lock me away in his bedroom to use as his own personal fuck toy.
I groan and scrub my hands across my face, willing the sensations of how he used my body to go away. The amount of shame I feel with myself rivals the resentment I have toward the man.
I think I’m going to need some serious therapy to work through some of these issues. What would they call it? Stockholm syndrome doesn’t quite fit because I still loathe the man, it’s just my pussy that has fallen head over heels for his dick.
I groan again and smack my face.
Looking up, I see that I’ve come up on a small diner. I glance around before ducking inside and beelining for the older woman working behind the counter. She looks up with a startled expression before schooling her features and plastering on a smile. “Hi darlin’ what can I get for you?”
Trying to push back the embarrassment of my appearance, I lean forward and rush out, “I need to use your phone please. I’ve been kidnapped and need to call someone to come get me, quickly. Before he wakes up and finds me.” I stare at her in desperation as she looks back at me in stunned horror. Reaching forward, I lightly grasp her hand resting on the counter. “Please.” I plead, heart hammering.
Shaking herself, the woman extracts her hand from my grip and turns around. Snatching up a phone against the wall, she moves to hand it to me. “Here you go, make your call and we can hide you away in back until your friend is able to come get you.” Nodding to me in encouragement, she presses the phone into my hand. I offer her a shaky smile in return.
