Page 82 of Dare To Take

gnaw on a thumbnail while I continue my path around and around the outside of the chapel. The constant movement keeps my edginess from brimming over. My thoughts are in turmoil, and I’m choking on despair. Guilt festers away inside me, merging with my doubts and fears.

Eli has plenty of money. He’ll just get it fixed.

And what about the message it leaves?

Who is the real enemy? Who can I trust?

Slicing a glance around, I check I’m alone. My paranoia is high, my nerves on red alert.

Are they watching me now? Are they going to release the videos anyway? They have a chokehold on me, and I don’t know what to do.

Whoever is messaging me is using me as a tool. That’s clear.

Are they getting some sick kind of entertainment from what they’re making me do? Do they hate me that much, or do they have a grudge against my stepbrother?

I round the side of the chapel and stop dead in my tracks. Eli is standing there. For a moment, I question what I’m seeing. Is he a hallucination, summoned out of my thoughts?

His green eyes are cold, lips pressed together in a thin white line, and his slashing cheekbones add to the air of menace that’s clinging to him.

This is no hallucination.

Our eyes lock and hold.

This is not the boy I grew to know over Christmas.

The one who held my hand. The one who teased me and fucked me until I came.

The darkness swirling in his gaze is a blackhole of destruction threatening to suck me in.

His nostrils flare.

Everything inside me shrinks back at the sight.

This isn’t just another student standing in front of me.

This is a predator.

This is the Monster of Churchill Bradley Academy.

And I’m his chosen prey.

I take off through the trees, my heart in my throat and adrenaline flooding through my limbs, but I don’t get far. Arms wrap around my waist and haul me backward. He picks me up, my struggles futile against his strength. He tosses me over his shoulder, ignoring my pleas to let me go. My arms flail against his back as he turns and carries me back toward the chapel.

“Stop fucking fighting.” His hand comes down on my backside hard.

I cry out. “Put me down!”

His palm connects with my ass a second time. “You wanted my attention, and now you have it.”

He’s going to kill me.

I pound my fists against his back, but I might as well not bother for all the notice he takes. The steps of the chapel appear beneath us. He doesn’t stop moving until we’re inside.

One second, I’m over his shoulder, and the next, the world spins and my feet are on the stone floor.

He strips me out of my coat, spins me around and presses a hand against my spine to bend me over the dusty pew, to pin my flailing hands behind my back with an ease that scares me.

The hard length of his cock beneath denim digs into my ass.

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