I spin on my heels, but before I can get a step, I’m pinned to the door. Priest’s hands on either side of my head, caging me in. His hard chest presses to my back. The heat of his skin bleeding through my clothes.
“Get the fuck off me.” I try to shove him off, but he presses harder. I feel his cock twitch through the thin barrier of fabric. Nausea coils in my gut as he grinds his body into mine.
“Christ, I forgot how good you feel underneath me.”
The words gut me.
My fists clench, my body trembling from rage—and something worse. Something that makes me hate myself more than I already do.
“Fuck. You.” I force the words past my teeth, each one burning.
“Is that an invitation?” His teeth graze the shell of my ear. His tongue flicks against my lobe, and his hand drops from the wall to my waist, his fingers digging into my hip.
“Would you like that? Me deep inside you again? Making you scream?”
I slam my elbow back hard, catching him in the ribs.
He doesn’t flinch. Just laughs. “So violent.”
He leans in, dragging a slow inhale along my neck. His grip tightens. Then his mouth brushes a scratch on my neck, pressing a kiss there. I shove at him again, but he’s a brick wall.
“You ever plan to kill me, aim between the third and fourth rib. Soft spot, kitten,” he adds with a smirk against my skin. “Right where the heartshouldbe.”
Finally, he steps back and I spin around. Raze watches from the table, his eyes dropping to the bulge in Priest’s pants, and he smirks.
“You’re a fucking animal, Priest,” Raze says. “I like it.”
“Go to hell, both of you,” I snap, storming toward the door.
“Don’t even think about it,” Priest calls. “You take one step outside that door, I’ll chain you to your bed.”
My stomach twists, and I glance over my shoulder. His eyes are pitch-black. No warmth. No soul. And on his lips—there’s a smile.
My hands won’t stop shaking until I’m storming through the bunker to the training room. I scrub at my neck, trying to wipe his disgusting kiss from my skin. But even then, he’s still there, on my skin. In my head.
Fucking bastard.
I’m losing my goddamn mind in this bunker. Pain flares through my fingers, tearing up my forearm as my knife connects with the swinging tire.
Again. Harder. Faster.
My body’s healing, but not fast enough. Muscles scream, stitches pull, bones ache. I push through anyway. Rage is the only thing keeping me upright. I can’t grip shit; my handsare wrecked, my back stiff, my body rigid like my muscles are already atrophying.
Sweat drips into my eyes. I wipe it away and swing again. The blade bites rubber, the tire swings wide, and I sidestep.
“You need to widen your stance. Put your weight into the swing,” a voice calls from the doorway.Why won’t he just leave me alone?
My hand burns, but I don’t stop.
“You come near me, I’m throwing this blade at your face, Priest.”
I turn and find him leaning against the doorway, tatted arms crossed. Stray strands of hair fall in his eyes. Watching me. Always fucking watching.
“With those fingers? You wouldn’t hit me.”
I whip the knife at him. He snatches it midair, expression flat, spinning it between his fingers.
“Nice try, little girl. But you’ll have to do better.” He flicks the blade back at me. I duck as it barely misses me, before itthunksinto the wall.
