Page 51 of Speak No Claim

The moon cascaded a little more into the room. Their build was big, too big for a woman. I knew then it was a man inside that cloak.

He wasn’t threatening me. He was just waiting.

“Please take off your hood,” I whispered. “Were you following me? Why?”

I couldn’t get my questions out fast enough. He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. His silence was enough. In the blink of an eye, he moved, slowly stepping in my direction.

He read my mind. I was about to scream, but in an instant, he was holding the edge of the blade up to my lips, silencing me. His heavy cloak echoed off the floor.

My chest was rising and falling, my heart thrashing inside me. Stunned by the drastic turn of events, I choked back a scream, coming face-to-face with his black matte mask. It was one of those masks bikers wore, the same kind you saw in video games or militia military.

He still didn’t speak, never rushing. He backed away a bit before he slid the blade across the wall. The sound only amplified my fear of what was coming. Each one of his steps felt as if he were deciding something. Like an animal, he trapped me into the corner of the room. My back slammed into the wall behind me. Getting in my face, he invaded my personal space.

I never expected what happened next.

Not one damn thing.

I shook my head, back and forth, with my lip quivering. Next, he unbuckled his belt. I went to scream that time, but he covered my mouth with the blade again. My stare went wide, witnessing him crudely tear his belt out of the loops of his slacks with a snap.

“What are you⁠—”

Not allowing me to finish, he raised his hand, swinging the belt as hard as he could, landing right on the wall behind my head. It hissed through the air, breaking my confidence.

I whimpered, my gaze laced with nothing but fear, exactly the way he craved.

It was enough to make me snap out of it, and I spewed, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

He leaned forward, inhaling my vulnerability. It was almost too much for me. I felt exposed and naked when I was fully clothed. He dropped his belt to the floor. It also echoed off the walls. Mirroring my own crumbling down on us.

Catching me more off guard, the lips of his mask started sliding along the side of my neck. They were smooth like silk, gliding effortlessly. I didn’t say anything, too consumed by the unexpected of where he was going with this.

My breathing hitched, my lips parted, my mind already betraying me.

Did I like this?

Something was erotic about the way he held me captive, flushing my face and cheeks. In one swift movement, he gripped my legs, lifting me against the wall to straddle his waist.

I panted now, completely breathless and losing all sense of reasoning and control.

His dick was hard and that much I did feel.

“What the fuck?” I finally let out. “What are you doing to me?”

He didn’t reply, running his hand up the back of my thigh, roughly gripping my hips now. His mask hovered over my face. I couldn’t see anything, not even his eyes. It was too dark. Black holes stared back at me.

Unable to hold back, I blurted, “Are you trying to fuck me or kill me?”

Something in my tone snapped him out of whatever reality he’d been in. Carelessly, he dropped me to my feet, but at the last second, he caught me with his grip on my injured upper arm. I hissed through the pain. His gaze shifted to my forearm, taking in all the blood that had soaked through.

Slowly, he unwrapped it. My skin stung as he pulled off the scarf, exposing the fresh slice beneath. The room fell incredibly still. You could hear a pin drop.

He stared at it. Not at me but at all the blood I’d lost.

God help me, this was all wrong. Without one warning, he lifted the dagger.

“No!” I exclaimed, thinking he was going to stab me.

He didn’t, brutally slicing open his hand instead. I sucked in air. The blade never came near me. His blood gushed in seconds. My stare flew wide as I watched him with an intense regard.