I stare down the path from which I came and hold my breath, listening carefully. No sound. Maybe I should go back. Or into the trees. Because I can’t go up—tohim.
But I’ve already tried going back and into the trees. I’ve tried everything. There’s nothing I can do. I’m surrounded. Nakedand helpless on a mountain. No phone, no way out. Just me and the beasts hiding in the shadows.
Panic floods me. I turn to my left and steel myself. Maybe I can hide. I stare into the dark forest. There are big rocks, bushes, and huge trees. Many good hiding places and shadows to conceal me. But just as I’m about to dart into the darkness, there’s movement. A man—a demon. I turn to my right. Another silhouette. Behind me. The same.
I lurch forward, up the steep trail, just barely avoiding branches and stones that threaten to take me down. I know I’m going just the way they want me, but I can’t stop myself. I can’t think. Instinct has kicked in, and instinct doesn’t care what awaits me at the top of the hill; it just cares about escaping the most immediate danger.
I claw at the ground to gain purchase as the trail steepens. I’m about to climb up on a big rock in my way when I hear a sound behind me. I turn my head, just as hands lock onto my waist. I scream.
“No! Let me go!”
A hand clamps over my mouth, and a massive arm bands around my waist, trapping my flailing arms in an unbreakable grip. A familiar grip.Asbjörn.
“Shh, it’s just me,” Asbjörn whispers just as recognition strikes.
I slump against him, overcome by relief. But when he bends me over the tall rock I was about to climb, the panic starts thrumming again—a slow drone at the back of my mind, threatening to burst into full-on drumming at any moment.
“What are you doing?” I gasp. “Please, stop. I’m so fucking scared.”
He presses a big hand to my back, pinning me in place even though I’ve momentarily stopped fighting.
“I know you are,” he says softly. “It’s beautiful.”
“What?”
He leans in, his body blanketing my chilly skin from the evening air. “Your fear. It’s so damn beautiful.”
“Why?” I blurt, unable to think of anything better.
He hums, straightening without giving me an answer.
“Please. Just stop. Just pause. Tell me what’s going on.”
He slips a hand between my legs and slides a finger through my folds. I gasp at the feeling of wetness I hadn’t even noticed. He toys at my opening for a minute, and suddenly I’m panting for a whole different reason.
“I don’t want this,” I tell him—or maybe it’s myself I’m trying to convince.
He tuts. “You want this so damn much.”
“No, I’m scared.”
“Oh yes, and that’s why you want it.”
My brain spins, trying to process his certain claim. Because I see a kernel of truth in it. My panicked brain won’t recognize it, but my body does.
Asbjörn slides a finger inside me, and I moan.
“You’re so fucking perfect. Just like he said. It’s a shame I can’t keep you.”
“Who? Why? What?” I blurt in a shrill voice.
“You’ll see soon enough.”
He draws out and grabs my ass cheeks, pulling them apart.
Pfft.
I startle at the sound of Asbjörn spitting, and when I feel the saliva trickling between my ass cheeks, I go frantic.
