by Esme Devlin
“I know,” she shouts back, not even bothering to look in my direction.
She wants to play the game with me? I’ll show her exactly what losing feels like.
Chapter 3
SCARLET
The lights of the carpark behind the campus come into view and I shiver at the thought of getting back into my warm room. I suspected it would be chilly, but the walk has done little to keep my fingers from going numb. My breath forms in clouds in front of my face, and I grip tighter onto my coffee cup, trying to absorb the last fragments of dying warmth from it.
It wasn’t a quick walk, made even slower by that asshole Jason and the conversation that ensued. I don’t even know why I engaged with him. I know his type, and I know they are bad news.
But still, I can’t help feeling intrigued by him. His type have never taken any interest in the likes of me before. I’m usually the girl who keeps her head down, eyes low on the ground, and I’m happy there. It stops situations such as tonight from happening.
Not that there was even anything that wrong with tonight. He was probably just offering me a ride. I try to tell myself that, but I can’t help the niggling doubts in my mind that what started as the offer of a ride could have turned into the expectation of something more.
The way he was looking at me was akin to how a starved man looks at an all you can eat buffet. Is that what he wants, though? Are his interests purely sexual? From the way he looks at me, I’d think it was.
But then there was the note: soon. You don’t do that to someone if you want to get them between the bedsheets.
Or in the back of your car.
What does he want?
I cross the car park with that thought in my head when I hear the sound of a car door slam in the distance. Looking around, I scan the deserted area for signs of movement but I don’t see any.
The back door of my building comes into view and I quicken my pace, mostly because I can’t wait to get inside and be warm again. I’m going to have a nice, hot bubble bath and then maybe I’ll think about unpacking properly. I’m almost finished my book, so I’ll need to find the box with the others in and sort through them for any possible re-reads.
In the corner of my eye I catch a shadow moving, and all thoughts of books and baths are cut short.
Was that a shadow?
Or am I being paranoid?
My footsteps quicken on the concrete and I wish they didn’t sound so loud, so I could hear if there was someone there. The movement came from the alley just beside the door. I fumble one handed in my bag, trying to fish my keys out, but my fingers are so fucking numb.
I’m half looking in my bag, half watching the area where I thought I saw the shadow, when a figure appears out of the darkness.
Relief washes over me when I realize I know that face.
But the twisting inside my stomach returns quickly, and soon I’m wondering why the hell I ever let it leave in the first place.
He followed me.
Jason followed me home.
I swallow down the lump that I’m only now realizing is the size of a golf ball.
How do I play this?
I’ve never been followed home before. How exactly are you supposed to act?
“What are you doing here?”
He takes a step towards me, a smirk on his handsome face.
They say that about psychopaths, don’t they? They’re always the good-looking ones. Or maybe I just made that up, and it’s only a thing on Netflix — who knows.
“I’m not used to being rejected, princess.”
Oh, here we go. The college hotty is so used to girls dropping to their knees begging to suck him off, that he’s never learned it’s not acceptable to stalk someone when they say they’re not interested.
“Listen. I’m sure you’re a nice guy and all — but I’m not interested.”
There’s that smirk again. He watches me while he moves position, and now he’s directly blocking my path to the door.
There is another door, it’s out the front.
The quickest way to that door is through the alleyway he just appeared from.
I’m not going to do that — that would be stupid.
Jason clears his throat. “In my experience, interest isn’t a concrete concept. It’s fluid. You might not be interested now, but you will be.”
I laugh at that one. Is this guy really so full of himself?
“I’m done with your games. You’re blocking my way. Please move.” My tone is stern and I’m actually kinda proud of myself that my voice didn’t break towards the end.
He takes a step to the side. He’s letting me go? Wow. That was almost too easy. So easy in fact that I’m suspicious. But I can’t stand here all night.
I grab my key from my bag and walk towards the door. His eyes are on me, observing me from a couple of meters away. The key goes in the lock and turns… my hand moves to the handle… I twist…
And then my heart sinks into my stomach as I feel a thick arm wrap around my neck.
No.
Please no.
I drop the coffee cup.
I try to scream.
One hand covers my mouth while the other one wraps around my stomach and lifts me.
Before I can even process what’s happening, I’m being dragged backwards.
But we’re not going to the dark alley like I expected.
We’re heading for the car park.
Is he taking me to his car?
I’m trying to scream for help but all sound connects with his hand and comes out as a low hum.
I try to thrash my hands but it’s hopeless. He’s like a hard wall of steel.
Fuck.
Fuckfuckfuck.
I knew he was an asshole.
I could see it written across his face the first time I clapped eyes on him since high school.
But this? Who could have expected this?
I’m about to become a statistic.
We seem to stop moving and the hand releases my stomach. I try to break free but the other one has my head trapped in a vice-like grip. He turns me around and shoves me head first into the back of his car.
He’s going to do it here?
Someone will walk by. Surely, someone will be along soon and notice what’s happening and stop this madness.
That’s the only thing I can think about when my ass connects with the cold leather seat and he climbs in on top of me.
The smell of the car mixes with him and creates a masculine cocktail of scents that’s almost intoxicating. Leather and teakwood and dark spice and maybe something sweet. Vanilla?
“Are you going to struggle?”
I swallow another lump. It’s not his words that send chills running straight down my spine. It should be the words — because they’ve pretty much just dictated my fate. It’s not the words, though. It’s the manner in which he delivers them. He’s so calm. Steady. He’s barely even taking an extra breath.
I don’t answer his question. He doesn’t deserve an answer. Of course I’m going to struggle.
As if the thought jolts me back into the situation, I begin thrashing and kicking with everything I have.
He grabs a hold of my wrists and pins them easily above my head on the seat.
I look up, trying to see over his shoulder.
The door is still open, anyone walking by the car would probably see four feet sticking out. Why isn’t anyone walking by?
Tears well in my eyes at the hopelessness of the situation. My body stops struggling. I fight the tears back, but I feel the strength seep out of me.
He’s so much bigger.
He’s so much stronger.
There is nothing I can do.
As if he senses me easing, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss on my forehead.
“There’s a good girl,” he says. His voice is almost gentle, like a caress.
He bends down to the footwell to get something, although I can’t see what it is. It’s too dark
and his chest mostly covers my head.
But I didn’t need to see it, because a moment later I feel it.
Rope.
He’s tying my hands.
“Why are you doing this?”
My voice is so breathy that I barely even recognize it. I feel his chuckle above me.
“I’m doing it because I want you.”
He wants me?
“This isn’t how you treat someone you claim to want.”
I feel his chest move as he chuckles again. The movement only reminds me how hard it is to breathe. His fingers work quickly tying my hands together and then he sits up on his elbows, removing some of the pressure on my chest.
“You don’t even know what I’m going to do yet, princess.”
“I can guess,” I tell him through gritted teeth.
He laughs at that. He fucking laughs.
Then he moves down again, closer to my head. I feel his warm breath at my ear and I can’t help holding my own. “You can’t guess. I promise, you’ll never have felt anything like what I’m going to do to you.”
There’s the shiver again. But this time it’s different. This time it’s terror, but it’s mixed with something else. Curiosity?
No. That would be ridiculous. That would make me just as fucked up as he clearly is.
I say nothing while he retreats from the car. He tucks my legs up on the seat and slams the door shut behind him, opening the driver’s door a moment later. I struggle against the ties and eventually manage to push myself up using my elbows.
He glances back in his rear-view mirror and clears his throat.
“Try anything smart and I swear it’ll be the last thing you do.”
My back presses against the hard seat while the car speeds away. Do I believe him? I don’t know. I don’t want to believe his threat, but then again, I don’t want to believe this is actually happening to me either.
And yet here I am.
I decide to bide my time.
There is no way he will get away with this.
I know his name. We go to the same college. Whatever he does to me, I know who he is. He will pay for it.
And if he takes me back to his home, I’ll know exactly where to send the police in the morning.
So I bide my time.
I try to remain calm and control my breathing.
I watch out of the window as the streetlights whiz by us, as the lights of the city fade into the distance behind us.
We’re heading to the middle of nowhere.
Is he going to kill me?
Panic rises in my chest along with bile. I have to ask him. I have to ask, even though I don’t think I want to know the answer.
“What are you going to do to me?”
I watch the mirror and see his eyes glance back towards me.
He remains silent.
I try again. “Please. Just tell me what you’re going to do.”
“I would, but I’ve not decided yet.”
He’s not decided? Does that mean I may well survive this?
“I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t hurt me. Don’t kill me.”
He chuckles again. “I’m not going to kill you. You’re too special for that.”
Chapter 4
JASON
She is special.
She just doesn’t know how special yet.
But I’m going to show her how special she is.
I’m going to spend the whole fucking night showing her just how special she is. Every inch of her skin. Every part of her body. Special.
“Then what are you going to do?” Her voice is quiet. Nervous. Worried. She doesn’t have to be. I’m not going to hurt her.
Well, I’m not going to hurt her without making it feel good.
“We’re going to get to know each other.”
I watch her in the rear-view mirror while she shifts in her seat uncomfortably. We’re almost home. Another five minutes. My mind is already going crazy with where I should take her. The bedroom? I don’t want to scare her.
I almost laugh at that as I glance at her again.
She’s fucking terrified.
But we’ll get over that.
I’ll make sure of it.
Chapter 5
SCARLET
The car stops in front of a large house. It’s white, all clean lines and modern architecture. I wonder if Daddy is rich.
I also wonder if Daddy is home.
He gets out and opens the door for me, the look on his face expectant. I try to shimmy myself over but without the use of my hands it’s a struggle. It takes him a moment to catch on to this, but when he does his hands are gentle.
A strong arm takes me and helps me out of the car. I stand there, looking between the house and him and wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do. This isn’t normal. Nothing about this man is normal, and we’re about to enter his territory.
I try to push my hair off my face with my tied hands, but he reaches down and does it for me, tucking a stray strand behind my ears.
I regard him curiously. When I think of an abduction, an assault, and all the horrifying things that go along with it — this isn’t how I expected it to be.
“What are we doing here?”
Jason glances up to the house. “I live here.”
“Well, I guessed as much. Why am I here?”
The corner of his lips curve into a smile. “We’re going to get to know each other better. Come.”
He takes me by the arm again and I have no choice but to follow him. I could struggle. I could run. My legs aren’t tied. There’s nothing physically stopping me. But what good would it do?
There are no neighbors. I have no idea where I am. Where would I run to?
Inside, there will be a phone.
I can call for help.
I can call the police.
He uses the key attached to the set of car keys and unlocks the door, flicking the lights on as he enters and gesturing for me to follow him.
“Welcome home,” he tells me.
I lift my eyebrow. Fucking seriously?
“What are we doing here?”
I feel like a broken record. Yet again, I don’t get an answer. He doesn’t even acknowledge the question this time. Instead he comes over and unties my hands.
I rub the skin on my wrists that are now bright red, and stretch my fingers out, trying to get the circulation to return.
When it’s done, I walk further into the house. I’m looking for a phone. Or a parent. Anything that could help me. He stays rooted to the same spot in the hall, watching me with an amused look on his face.
The kitchen is dark. I feel around on the wall for a light switch. Sometimes people keep phones in the kitchen. I pray there is a phone in the kitchen.
“You won’t find one.”
I spin around and my eyes connect with his. He fills the door. He’s wearing black jeans, and a black hoody under a black leather jacket. With his piercing blue eyes and dark hair, I almost laugh because I’m pretty sure there are one-thousand girls at college who could only dream of standing in his kitchen.
They probably fantasize about this shit.
But this isn’t a fantasy.
He pushed me into the car and tied me up.
I don’t have time to answer before he’s crossing the room towards me. His steps are slow. Calculated. For every step he takes towards me, I take a step back.
It’s like we’ve entered into a game. Or maybe a dance. He prowls the room, and I avoid his advances. He never takes his eyes off me and I never take my eyes from him.
We both know what happens when he catches me.
Now I’m the one closest to the door.
I glance behind me.
Should I run?
But he must anticipate this because he takes a hold of me and roots me to the spot in front of him.
All I can do is look up into his face and hope that my eyes are asking the question I can no longer ask.
Why?
Why are you doing this?
Maybe he didn’t see the question written there. Maybe he did see it, and he’s answering me in his own way.
All I know is that he’s bending down.
His face is close.
Too close.
I want to look away. I should turn my face away. But I can’t. It’s like I’m locked in his gaze, and I have no idea if it’s because I’m too scared to move or if it’s because I actually want this.
I smell peppermint on his breath.
His lips brush against mine and I think I forget to breathe. I forget to blink. I forget everything that just happened.
“I’m going to make you feel so fucking good,” he whispers, almost directly into my mouth.
I sigh.
I fucking sigh.
And he takes it as an open invitation.
His lips connect with mine and before I can do anything, two strong arms wrap around me and lift my body up to him.
My hands fly to his shoulders. I think I’m pushing him away but I can’t be sure. We’re locked together so tightly.
His tongue peeks out and I open for him. He’s warm. His mouth is inviting, coaxing me to open more for him. So I do. And he laps it up completely.
He’s walking me over to the kitchen counter, our lips never separating for a second. And now his hands are roaming my body. They’re cupping my ass and stroking my back and trying to get under my shirt. They’re running through my hair and connecting with the back of my neck and I feel like I’m being devoured by him.
Like I’m being eaten alive.
And I like it.
I feel like I want to melt into him. To forget about why I’m here. How he got me here. The way he behaved when I first met him. I want to forget it all and let him take me.
But that’s not right, is it?
That can’t be right?
He abducted me.
The thought brings me back into the room and now suddenly I’m suffocating. My fingers grip onto his shoulders and I push with everything I have.
He doesn’t budge an inch.
I tap him. I slam my fist into his shoulder.
“Stop,” I grit out. I barely hear the words myself, his mouth is locked on so tight.
