Page 67 of The Prey

“Don’t tell me you don’t feel it?” Desire drips from his voice.

There's more laughter, and I hear someone's lilting voice. “Sebastian, why don’t you come play with us?”

No. I’m just another tally, another girl he’s claimed, minus the actual fucking, which I guess makes me less than them. The reality of that feels like being punched in the throat. I have to get away from him. I can’t bear to be seen as nothing more than a stone when I know damn well that I’m a diamond, even if he doesn’t see it. Tears prick my eyes, and I blink them away, because I do not want to cry in front of him. Titling my face away from him, I shove at his chest again, harder, but he barely moves, not even an inch.

“What’s wrong?” His voice echoes in my mind.

“Everything.” I shake my head. “Everything is wrong. This. Us. I'm not a toy. You can't just kiss me and play with me when you want, then toss me aside when you’ve had your fill. I’m not that type of girl, and I won’t be treated like one. Hell, you've barely spoken to me lately, and when you do, it’s filled with nothing but anger and hate.”

“I don't hate you, Elyse.”

I turn my face to look at him. “You do. I know hate when I see it. I was raised by a man who hates me, who can’t even look at me without reminding me that I’m the reason for my mother’s death. I know what hate looks like, Sebastian.”

“I. Don’t. Hate. You. Ely.” He enunciates each word like that will make me believe him more. Stupidly, I scan his features for any proof that he’s lying, but his face doesn't give much away.

“Even if you don’t hate me, you’ve been acting like you do. You went from ignoring my existence to showing concern to acting like you don’t care about me. It’s a lot of hot and cold, and I can’t handle it anymore.”

“You’re something else,” he mutters under his breath.

“Just tell me what you want, Sebastian. Tell me what you want from me so I can stop second-guessing every interaction we have,” I ask, needing to hear the answer.

He's given me part of it, but I need more.

When it comes to him, I’m so conflicted. I don’t know what to do or believe.

“That’s such a loaded question, and I have a million answers for it, but my biggest want, need, and desire is for you to shut that pretty fucking mouth of yours”—he strokes my cheek gently—“and let me kiss you.”

All I can do is blink, and when he smirks at me, I swear my heart soars out of my chest. Leaning in, his lips brush against mine sensually, our breaths mingling together, and all there is, is him. His scent and taste threaten to drown me and consume me from the outside in. “I never lied when I said you were my property. You’ve belonged to me since the night I found you, and not just because of your father’s debt. You’re mine because I say you’re mine, and in every single way, Ely. Every. Fucking. Way.”

27

Elyse

Before I breathe, think, or form a coherent response to what he’s said, we’re kissing again. He devours me like he wants to crawl inside me and live there. My hands roam his chest, mapping a trail across flesh I’ve only ever dreamed about exploring until I reach his back and sink my fingers into his shirt, clinging to him.

The tree behind me digs into my back, even buffered by my hoodie, but I don’t care about the pain. I don't even want to stop my hips from tilting up against him.

His rock-hard erection presses against my belly, digging in, and dammit, I wish we were lying down so I could have him put it right where I need it most. I’m greedy for more—an addict and he’s my drug. His teeth graze my lip, nipping hard, and I whimper as the pain ignites my senses. He smiles against my skin as his mouth moves down my chin, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh at my neck.

“Don’t stop,” I moan into the night.

He continues nipping at my flesh and lapping at the spots with his tongue after biting, making my heart beat wildly. I can’t get enough of him. His big hands slide down my neck and circle my waist before slipping to the hem of my skirt.

Do I want this? Yes! A million times, yes.

I spread my legs without thought, giving him room to move between them. Anything he wants, he can have. Anything he wants, he can take. I just don’t want him to stop. A whimper escapes me, and he pulls away to look at me, desire and need shining in his eyes.

“There’s no backing out now, Little Prey. It’s time for you to be as consumed by me as I’m consumed by you.”

I swallow thickly at the low, deep menace in his tone like he's about to rip me apart with his bare teeth and make me beg him to do it again.

A glint of metal catches my eye in the dark as he bends. As he lifts the blade, I take in the wicked-looking knife that hovers an inch from my mouth. It's the one I've seen him with several times, the one he marked me with when I'd succumbed to my nightmare. I bite back a gasp, and the air between us crackles, sparks igniting and shooting off like firecrackers.

Fuck, what is he going to do with that?

With my anxiety never too far from my mind, a tiny warning goes off, telling me this could end badly, but I’m too caught up in the sensations to tell him to stop. Not that he would. The feral, unhinged look returns to his eyes, and he presses the flat edge of the knife against my mouth, the point resting against my cupid's bow.

Staring down at me, he orders, “Lick it for me, Ely.”

---