Dammit, I’m hard as if I didn’t just climax a second ago.
“A beautiful belt.” Since my mask has remained halfway up, I bare my teeth to her, instilling fear in her. “A beautiful, beautiful belt. And a lampshade. Yes, you’ll be a great addition to my home.”
My lies silence her. Still, I don’t let up. Her fear has to look real.
“See, I won’t sell your skin. I’ll tan it, turn it into leather. Keep you with me forever.”
At the final threat, she nods. I snatch the little charm I gave her from her bra and stuff her mouth with it.
“Don’t spit it out.”
She nods.
So do I. Then I reach for the pile of her clothes and wrench them over her. With her sneakers on her feet, she’s ready.
I haul her over my shoulder and wipe my mask clean with her panties before pocketing them again. Then I stomp out of the guest room.
My pulse is steady. Senses sharp.
I’m going to get us out of here.
Either that, or I’m killing everyone who dares to touch her.
10
SKYLAR
Up until yesterday, the worst of my nightmares were incredibly dumb. Flunking a chem final, getting rejected from pre-med, letting my parents down.
What a fucking joke.
Those weren’t nightmares. They were daydreams of a pampered, clueless girl.
Real nightmares sound like my sister screaming. They feel like being carried down the hall by a masked monster who made me come. Who threatened to skin me, to turn me into his next belt or his lampshade.
That’s a nightmare.
And knowing I’m going to die here, at the hands of this giant man I can’t stop craving even when he terrifies me, that’s pure, unfiltered horror.
A sob almost escapes me, and I smother it by pressing my mouth to Knox’s back.
I can’t let him hear it. Can’t let him win.
Damn him for his manly scent that seeps through the smell of bleach. For the heat of him burning against me when I should only feel hate.
Inwardly, I call him every name in the book, especially for the charm he’s gagged me with. This thing steadies me. It lowers my guard.
I’m slipping, giving in to him like I did back there in the room. My anger keeps losing ground to the thrum of want tearing through me.
So wrong. It’s so fucking wrong. Wanting him is a death sentence. A noose around my neck.
And I’m the one tying the knot.
This needs to end—everything. The lust, the defeat. I have to snap out of it and come up with an escape plan to get all three of us out of here.
Slamming my eyes shut, I force myself to focus, to stop obsessing over Knox and the rippling muscles beneath his shirt.
But even without being distracted by him, I come to the same heartbreaking conclusion as I did before.
