Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
I tug it free from my slacks and open it in one swift motion. The knife cuts through the air with a swish. Elyse reacts with a gasp, her blue eyes shining with fear. She takes a step back, and being the prey that she is, instinct alone is ordering her to run. Part of me wants to tell her to do that.
Do it. Run, Little Prey. It’ll make hunting you down and taking what I want all the more fun.
The other part of me, the saner side, knows her running will not end well, for me, yes, but her, not so much, Which is why I choose to go a different route entirely.
Regarding the blade of the knife, I point the tip at her. “What am I removing first?”
“W-what?”
“You heard me, Ely! Is it really that difficult? Put the goddamn dress on, or I'll take you to the event naked, and trust me, Little Prey, this isn’t the sort of place you want to go stark-ass naked. It might lead someone to believe you’re for sale or, worse, that you want to play in one of their games. The choice is yours: belong to me or belong to a stranger. But stop dicking around, or I’ll make the choice for you.”
I take another step, bringing myself even closer. The tip of the knife catches in the dim light that illuminates the space from the bathroom. It gleams, and for a moment, I wonder what it might look like with her blood on it, but before I let that image bloom in my mind, it disappears.
Staring her down, I gently press the blade against the spot where her heartbeat beats a frantic tattoo at the hollow of her throat.
“What’s your choice, Prey?”
9
Elyse
The cold edge of steel grazes my skin, and I squeeze my eyes shut, anticipating his next move. Maybe if I don't look at the sharp blade, it won't hurt as badly when he cuts me with it. Memories pour in, another blade, another time, and I grit my teeth, pushing them away. I can’t deal with those right now.
This is it. This is what I get for ruining all his clothes, for the smart-ass remarks, for the way he grinds his teeth every time he looks at me, like my very presence is a burden to him. It’s time to pay for my sins, and his form of currency is blood.
The sharp, slick sound of my shirt slicing apart punctuates my panting breaths. Cold air brushes my skin as he rips the remnants of my shirt off. It catches on my arms, twisting and stinging as the material tightens around my flesh, even more so near the scar from the bullet wound on my shoulder.
“Fuck,” I curse and twist so I can pull the ripped-up sleeves off myself. “Dammit, Sebastian, I can do it.” I barely recognize the antagonism in my own voice.
The fear and the drugs create the perfect storm of self-indulgence that I forget, for one heartbeat, who I’m yelling at.
He raises one imperious brow at me and flips the knife expertly in his palm so the sharp edge points down along his wrist, then jerks the waist of my pants away from my skin and slices downward. The flat edge of the steel brushes along my hipbone as the serrated metal slices away more fabric, the thin khaki giving way far too easily.
It almost peels away instead of cutting or ripping.
I’m greeted with the kiss of more cold air on my bare flesh, and I shiver, both at the chill and the feral look that shines in his eyes and reflects back at me.
The ribbons of my pants hang on my thin hips, and he moves to slice the other side of them. I need to put an end to this before it goes too far, and he really does cut me. I hold my hands up and plead with him.
“Please, let me do it. This isn’t necessary.” I try to inject a level of calm into my voice, hoping it projects onto him in some way, but I know I failed when my words come out breathless and shaky.
“Then fucking do it, Ely, or I'll continue to do it for you. I told you I wasn’t fucking around. I don’t have time for your bullshit today, nor do I give a fuck about your modesty.”
All in all, as far as modesty goes, I think I’m holding things together rather well. I’m mostly naked here, and now that I think about it...fuck I’m standing in front of my savage animal boss in nothing more than scraps of cotton. I swallow hard and quickly jerk off the remains of my pants. Then I use my hands to cover all the bare areas I can.
The green dress fills my vision, then my face, the sequins scratching softly against my cheek before slipping down into my hands. I catch it on reflex and shift it so I can look at it again. Shit. It didn’t somehow gain more coverage since I saw it the first time.