by Trisha Wolfe
I wet my lips. An urgent need to press them against his rises up inside me with a sudden, insatiable hunger. But he moves out of reach before I can make the attempt. And I’m thankful; I’m not ready. I can’t lose my whole self to this man—not when I have nothing yet to offer in return.
A serious demeanor falls over Colton as he instructs me where to stand, how to position my hands. This is erotic rope play, yes, but it also goes so much deeper for him. As he maneuvers my ankles apart and begins to wrap them with the rope, he talks me through each tie-off. Coaxing the fear out of me, feeding on it, but also infusing me with a new form of strength.
The combination of terror and power heightens all my senses, making me acutely aware of every smell; the musty scent of rope. Taste; the salty tang of my sweat. Sound; Colton’s deep and even breaths. Sight; my skin bunched against the constriction of the binds. Touch; the abrasive rub of fibers against my skin—all of it is too much, overwhelming. It brings on a dizzy spell, and I have to lean against him until he says, “Stand on your own, Sadie.”
I do as directed, my legs unsteady as they just keep me from hitting the floor. And then the rope around my wrists tightens further, my ankles scream as the bands sink deep. My stomach muscles fight against the sudden assault. It’s a moment of pure pain that racks my body, stretching and lengthening me, and then blissfully…I’m weightless.
The creak of the rope twisting and gathering around my body as I’m suspended sends an electric pulse through me. A cry nearly wrenches from my mouth, but I bite down on my lip, stifling it.
“Don’t filter yourself,” he says, and I feel his reassuring touch against my back. “This is your space now. Submit to it. Allow the ropes to comfort you.”
I clamp my eyelids closed, refusing to see my position; the way my legs are spread wide, making me vulnerable. The way I’m bound, imprisoned. My lungs tighten painfully, cutting off my ability to breathe. I’m plunged right into the black pit of my fear…his voice snaking up and slithering against the walls of my mind.
Dirty girl.
His sweaty palms probe me…pain ripples through my breast as he pinches my nipple. Twists, eliciting a shrill scream…the wetness…forcing my body to betray me. Because I am. I am filthy.
“Sadie.” Colton’s voice cracks the vision. The walls bleed. “Please, baby. Stay here with me—fight. Find your subspace.”
I shake my head, unable to open my eyes. “I can’t…I can’t.” The pathetic mantra echoes in my head as my memories become palpable, and I feel the warm spray of blood wash my skin. I gasp in a jagged breath.
Rough palms bracket my face, and my eyes blink open. Staring into the depths of his vivid blue eyes, I focus on their clarity. “It’s all I ever see, Colton. How I view my world—with visions of red. The blood pulls me under…”
His thumb swipes under my eye, clearing away the gathered moisture, before he pulls away, leaving me reeling.
The ropes tighten even more, and I’m shifted upright, my arms bound to my chest, my wrapped thigh angled close to my body, fingers clawing the air. My whole world shifts as I’m suspended higher.
My head falls back. Light encases me—a blinding purity that forces air into my lungs and a searing energy fires through every limb and bone, awakening me. A lucid transcendence that leaves no room for fear. Or shame.
Cradled within the twisted threads, I fall deep within myself. A lightness encompassing me as the rope hugs my body—soothing. A tender embrace. The pain no longer breaks me; I no longer crave the cruel bite to sate the darkness—I’m cocooned by a lover’s kiss.
“Beautiful,” I hear Colton appraise. “With your permission, goddess.”
I glance over to see him kneeling below me, a flogger laid across his lap. A manic vibe steals over me, and I hear myself say, “Yes.”
Rising to his knees, he places one hand to my ankle and affectionately kisses the abused flesh above the binding. Then getting to his feet, he removes his shirt, exposing perfect flesh. Hard muscles line his stomach and trail down into a taut V just above his jeans. His arms flex as he works his way over the length of my body, the leather tails silky soft against my skin and drawing a throaty moan from my mouth.
“Suede,” he says, running the tails across my breasts; my nipples peaking from between my bound arms pebble at the arousing feel. “A low intensity sting, and hardly any thud, but we’re starting slow.” With a quick snap of his wrist, the black leather tails make contact with my skin.
I hiss out a breath, but it’s more due to the act, the sound of the swish, than the light pain.
His smile lights his face, and I lick my lips in anticipation of his touch. He trails the leather tips along my stomach, and I close my eyes, abandoning all reservation.
When he reaches my pelvis, he rests the mop there for one brief second and places his lips to the sensitive area just above my core. I tense, the muscles deep within me contracting at the erotic sensation. And when he drops the tails between my thighs, caressing my heated, slick lips with the smooth suede, my hips move of their own accord, causing the rope to creak against the bamboo.
Suddenly the flogger is gone, leaving me keening and throbbing, then with a severe thwack, it makes direct contact with my clit. My teeth pin my bottom lip as an intense pleasure radiates from my core and shoots throughout my body.
He continues to torture me in this fashion—giving and depriving of gratification—until my arousal is piqued, and I’m pleading for release. I’ve become dependent on the restraints, needing their assurance as I’m brought to the brink, only to descend into the violent ache all over.
But as Colton’s rhythm increases, each sting coming harder, and faster, his own harsh moans mingling with mine, he doesn’t withhold—he knows exactly what I need, when I need it, and he lashes my clit until my entire body is centered on that one, intense sensation, and my body reacts, pulling every muscle tight, giving over to the orgasm.
The flogger is replaced by the feel of Colton’s fingers greedily seeking their rightful place inside me, his thumb pressed hard to my clit as I come. His hand clasps the back of my neck, bringing me forward, and his lips crash against mine.
I’m captive to the sensations swimming over me, through me, demanding to be felt—and I’m captive to him. Every atom of my body entwines and connects at the place where our lips meet, caress. As his tongue darts out and slips past my lips to touch mine, I strain against the ropes, yearning for him to claim me completely.
As the aftershocks pulse pleasurably, rolling within me and along my skin, Colton releases me. Euphoria claims what’s left of me as my binds are removed and I fall into his strong arms.
A sheet covers me, cool and soothing against my sensitized flesh. We’re laying in his bed, his arms still holding me, comforting and giving solace, as my mind slips into the realm of sleep. But before I’m fully under, I feel something coarse wrap my wrist…a kiss to my mouth…then I’m free of all nightmares as I drift.
17
Unknown Subject
Sadie
Cravings don’t ever truly disappear. Right now, as I stare out over the little lagoon of Colton’s apartment complex, perched on the balcony, his giant T-shirt shrouding me from the elements, I could kill for a cigarette.
I look down at my phone again: four missed calls from Quinn, and one missed call from Avery.
I can’t hide forever—but now that everything feels shifted, surreal, I’m not sure what happens next. I have to confess what I know to Quinn, because I can’t work this case alone. And I’m not sure that I want to. Suddenly I fear something I’ve never had reason to fear before: loss.
I have things in my life—people—who I fear losing if I can’t get in front of this.
But timing is everything.
The UNSUB has a plan. I’m a part of that plan. My timing needs to align with his, and I can’t make a mistake. He’s successfully affected me. If that was his ultimate goal, then he’s already a step ahead. Only I’ve studied an
d analyzed his kind for years; there’s a greater scheme here than just distressing the profiler on his case.
He wants something from me—an acknowledgement, a contribution, maybe even me—and he won’t stop until he’s attained his desire.
The night wind lifts the hem of my shirt, sending a cool, rain-damp breeze along the inflamed areas of my flesh. I hold the sides down as it howls into the night, and feel the abrasive rub of threads against my tender wrist.
I lift my hands and finger the thin link of rope, the one Colton tied there right before sleep took me. I’m not sure why he gave it to me, or what it represents; maybe a token of his affection, or a sort of branding, a claim. Either way, the message is clear: I’m his.
A small smile tilts my lips as I push the pale rope along my wrist, finding myself not at all uncomfortable with that realization.
A beep interrupts my thoughts and I sigh, accepting the fact that it’s time to return to my world. I bring my phone up to respond to the text…and my heart stutters.
Unknown: Fitting, isn’t it? That technology should label my “name” so appropriately. Unknown Subject, or UNSUB…as you prefer to call me. But I know that’s only because you can’t let them become aware of us, our little secret. It won’t be long now, Sadie. Soon, you won’t have to hide who you are, just as I won’t have to lie about who I am. We’ll be together. And we’ll be unstoppable. Soon.
I read the message again, my hands trembling, thumbs shaky as they hover over the brightly lit screen. Before I can act or react, another text appears.
Unknown: White has never been my favorite color on you.
An eerie shiver slithers over my skin, and my head snaps up. He can see me… He’s watching right now. I glance around the complex, seeking a face—and a moment of doubt erodes the sturdy concrete beneath my bare feet.
Backing away from the railing, I keep my gaze aimed out over the lagoon, then quickly turn and slide the glass door open. I grab my gun from the holster lying on the floor and head to Colton’s room.
Door open, my back pressed to the wood, I peer around the corner. Colton’s shirtless backside faces me as he lies in bed, covers kicked down around his feet. A breath expels from my burning lungs. I lower the gun, then set it on the floor near the wall altogether.
My eyes scan the room, making sure it’s clear, that we’re still alone, then I push the door fully open and walk in. His shallow breaths are the only sound stirring the air as I carefully sit on the edge of the bed.
I reach out to run my fingers along what caught my attention before…but I stop my hand mid-air. Instead, my eyes trace the black ink swirling his back. Intricate designs depicting a Japanese-style dragon that curls down the stretch of his spine. It’s beautiful and tortured at the same time.
My job consists of knowing and anticipating those around me, yet in my personal life, I know very little about the man I just bared my soul to. I could spend tonight analyzing just that, or investigating his past…or I could get dressed and return to work. Where a blank profile grid awaits a new entry on the UNSUB.
As I stand, I allow my gaze to take in Colton a moment longer, then I put my head back in the game. There’s a message on my phone that needs to be traced. I walk toward my discarded jeans on the floor. Kneeling to pick them up, I spot Colton’s cell phone on the nightstand table near him plugged into its charger.
My breath halts, chest thumping as my heart picks up pace. I glance over at Colton, then again at the phone. I move forward, my feet leading me to that device of their own accord. I stare down at it, heartbeat pulsing in my throat. And for one, fleeting second, I’m tempted to look—to break the delicate trust we’ve just established. But at what cost?
The truth always reveals itself in time. And my truth—my own personal form of reality, no matter how skewed—is that right now, I need Colton Reed to not be my enemy. There may come a day when that’s not so, when we truly discover each other and come up wanting. But for this moment, I need him to remain worthy. I need him.
Simply, I’ve tasted enough evil in my short existence to be sated for a lifetime.
I turn away, and a warm hand wraps my wrist. I startle and try to pull free, but Colton tugs me down onto the bed. His arm anchors around my back as he brings my hand up, placing a soft kiss to my inner wrist, just below the link of rope.
His eyes study the features of my face intently. “Come back to me soon,” he says, then releases me from his hold.
As I place my palm to his chest, I note the accelerated pace of his heart, and I gulp down a breath. “I won’t be long,” I say, and push myself up to stand.
Stepping into the hallway, I close the door, grab my SIG, and then slip on my jeans, tucking Colton’s shirt into the waistband. His masculine scent presses against me as I clip my holster and rush out into the clear night.
It’s always clear after the storm.
“Quinn,” I say into my phone before he can get a word in. “I need you to get the task force techs to run a trace.”
His heavy sigh travels over the connection. “On who? And where the hell have you been?”
“Me,” I say, ignoring the irritation in his voice. “Get a trace on my phone.” I glance behind me, wondering if he’s following me now. “The UNSUB made contact.”
“Bonds,” Quinn says, a note of anger—that I long ago recognized with Quinn denotes fear—rumbles in his thick tone. “Get your ass to the station now.”
After I end the call, I yank my bag strap higher on my shoulder and walk with sure, determined steps. For the first time since I moved to this city, I feel like I know my place.
I requested the transfer and accepted a demoted position for reasons I’ve been trying to avoid, hopeful that the new location and practically nonexistent murder rate would be enough. That it would give me time to figure out the next part. To decide if the path I was on was truly the right course.
Well, we’re rarely given what we ask for.
I decide that, no, the UNSUB is not watching me; he’s out there hunting. He just wanted to impart the fact that he knows. He wants me to understand that he’s aware of all my secrets.
And that’s okay. Hunt tonight.
Because come light, it’s my turn to hunt you.
* * *
When you dig deep into the bowels of evil, you cannot hope to reemerge unscathed, unaffected, unchanged—but rather you know without doubt that your character is as fragile and susceptible to fate as the changing tide is to the sea. It’s very little to do with choice. And everything to do with risk. ~Sadie Bonds
1
Adrift
Sadie
Jackson Randall Lovett.
Three unassuming names in their own right, but when strung together in this precise, orderly fashion, seize me with terror. Damn me to nightmares.
My captor.
I didn’t learn his name until later, until after I was released from hospital care, when my parents could no longer shield me from the stormy aftermath. Reporters, journalists, therapists… They all whispered his name to me, hot breath slithering into my ear, infusing me with a new kind of dread.
Memories.
Yes, Jackson Randall Lovett was dead. Killed. Gunned down in my very presence. Ultimate proof that his sadistic torture could no longer afflict my life. But in my subconscious, in the dark, tranquil waters of my mind, his ghost began its haunt.
I heard the shiver-inducing crack the moment my soul fissured, and my psyche fragmented. As the fracture traveled on, razor-sharp teeth shredding me in two, I clung to the edge of my past—to the girl who existed before Jackson Randall Lovett.
I wanted to save her.
I only had two options: be consumed by the blackness, or fight back.
Die or live.
I initially took the path of least resistance, which led to a painful life of battling drug addiction. For a time, I was clutched within the tempting claws of escapism brought on by a promised high. I was a teen, after all. Temptation was all
around me, would have still been there had I never been stolen that one unfortunate night. Ultimately, though, I found the reprieve that came from knocking myself unconscious with a handful of pain pills didn’t last long enough. I always awoke right back into my dark realm, the walls bleeding, the haunt of my captor pervading my daily nightmares.
It was during those rocky two years of teenage hell that my softhearted father decided he couldn’t endure the painful road to recovery. He left, and I didn’t fault him. Maybe an outsider looking in would, but I just couldn’t judge him for abandoning a sinking ship.
Even still, the darkness that had infused itself so deeply into our family killed him in the end. There was no escape. My senior year of college, I got the call that he had suffered a heart attack. My softhearted father. His heart had failed him.
That’s when—finally—the second path presented itself. Fight.
Take my hard-earned degree in psychology (originally majored in to help survivors of horrific crimes recover) and apply it to a new area of study. A more proactive approach, which would allow me to prevent the destruction of lives in the first place. I would help law enforcement capture sadistic psychopaths. Stop them before they could cause more damage.
It seemed the only logical choice.
I couldn’t have known then where it all would lead.
But maybe there was another path. A third option I could’ve explored. I should’ve searched harder.
“Piper McKenna goes there.” Detective Quinn points toward the clear glass whiteboard, directing the newest member of his task force on where to place the first victim along the timeline.
Quinn rakes a hand through his mussed hair, and a few recently sprouted silver strands feather back into place. The unshaved scruff along his jaw reveals just how little sleep he’s had over the past week, but even in his haggard state, he still looks every bit the tidy and handsome detective.
