A low, rattled clicking bounced through the wooded area. One would assume that it was a woodpecker, but I knew better.
Raising the gun, I continued forward. I avoided stepping on any sticks, only stepping in patches of snow in the middle of a small clearing between the trees. I watched my surroundings through the sightline of my barrel.
For an instant, everything was still again.
A stream piddled as the ice melted around it. The white landscape was a stark contrast to the dark, wet bark of the trees. Little sounds here and there made me jump, but I was listening for those insufferable clicks.
Snap!
I whipped around and squeezed the trigger. The gun jolted against my shoulder, a pang of pain as I did so. The shot echoed through the trees, dissipating into the tense air around me. Unfortunately, my bullet would have met a tree, as there was nothing there.
I lowered the gun slightly, looking closely at the scene before me.
“You missed.”
I swung the barrel around, just in time for a gloved hand to grab it at the end.
“Not so fast.” Silas smirked. “What is a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?”
“I still have bullets.”
He yanked the gun from my hands and held it, positioning it at his shoulder and pointing it at me, those unfeeling eyes peering at me from his aim. “Now you don’t. What now?”
“Don’t point that thing at me unless you are committed to pulling that trigger.” I glanced at the blackened inside of the barrel before meeting his eyes again.
“Feisty,” he laughed, lowering the gun slightly as he looked me over. “It might be wise to dull that tongue when there is a rifle in your face.”
“Spare your threats for someone who fears you.” I clenched my fist. “Now give it back; you already scared off my meal.”
“Is that why you are trembling? Because you arenotafraid?”
“Buck fever.”
He smirked at me, something flashing behind those eyes. A spark. Nothing good could come of it. “If it truly is buck fever, take off your coat.”
“That’s not?—”
“Do it,Alina.” He cocked the hammer, a wild flare to his gaze at the sound.
Whatever witty response I had dried up and caught in my throat, making it hard to swallow. There was only sincerity in his expression.
I did not break eye contact as I popped the buttons one by one, shedding the coat from my shoulders and exposing the blouse underneath.
He touched the tip of the gun to my neck, my pulse pushing against the cold metal with every throb. He dragged it over my throat, making the cold trail down before resting it between my breasts. He tugged the gun to tear open a button on the shirt.
“I don’t think you need this either.” He jabbed the gun at my sternum, pushing down on the next button. “Are you scared?”
“No, butyoushould be.” I glared. “You will be lucky to sleep even half an hour without worrying about the ways I could get rid of you.”
“You misunderstand my tastes if you think I wouldn’t look forward to such an encounter.” He stepped back a few paces, moving behind me. “Now get rid of those horrid clothes. It is insulting that you would wear something so cheap.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I could take them offforyou if you prefer,” he whispered in my ear from behind.
I only responded by reluctantly undoing the rest of the buttons on my shirt, then beginning to take off my pants. When the pants pooled at my ankles, I kicked the boots and garments away. I was left in two layers of wool stockings. It was too cold to be without anything.
Silas kicked the back of my legs to force me to my knees.
