Page 83 of Beautiful Prey

The sudden impact on the patio was jarring. I buckled and fell on my knees, my hands catching me before my face could hitthe concrete. Broken glass from the patio door cut into my hands and feet.

For some idiotic reason, I thought Emery would disappear, looking to go back down the stairs and come get me, giving me time to get away or hide. Obviously, I’d watched too many horror flicks to assume that, because, as I struggled to my feet, pain searing into my skin, he jumped, landing on his feet next to me as if it had been no issue at all.

I cursed myself for being so stupid.

Emery took hold of my arm and then pulled me up. I caught the flash of red and blue coming down the back street, and I opened my mouth to scream. Emery slammed his hand across my mouth, cutting me off. He picked me up off my feet and hauled me inside. I bit his hand as he moved to one wall so as not to be seen from the outside. The cop car flew past not even slowing, making its way toward the fire down the road. I struggled and fought in his grip but his hold was like steel.

“Hey, asshole, let her go!”

As Emery turned, twisting me around like a doll with him, I caught Lena positioned by the stairs, revolver in her hand.

“That’s right, don’t move or I’ll—”

Emery moved. He dropped me and put himself between me and Lena. Lena took a shot as he came at her, the bullet grazing the side of his arm. Emery grabbed the gun but when he tried to wrench it from her, she didn’t let go. She took another shot, the second time hitting the light above, then she fell from her chair, crying, as she curled on the ground, holding her injured legs. She lost her grip and the gun clattered to the floor.

I lunged for it, despite the pain. Emery kicked the gun away where it slid under a cabinet. I scrambled away as he came for me again.

I somehow managed to get on my feet and run, searing pain shooting up my legs with each step. I headed into the kitchenwhere there was another side door leading outside. I spotted a knife on the table and grabbed it as I whirled around and found Emery behind me.

Panting, I aimed the knife toward him as I backed into the side door, hands wet with blood as I tried the knob.

I swiped at him as he got closer, going for anything. But he was too quick. He caught my arm and pulled me in. He picked me up and, in one fluid motion, dropped me onto the kitchen table, plates crashing onto the floor as my back hit the wood surface.

With ease, he slid me to the edge, putting his hulking weight on me and pinning my hips with his. He tore the knife from me, then grabbed my hair in his fist, pulling it loose. He aimed the knife at my head, and as he brought the blade down, I let out a sharp gasp, feeling like my soul was leaving my body before I could feel the searing pain of steel into flesh. Instead, I only felt the tight yank at my scalp as the blade penetrated the wood just above my head and he wrapped the rest of my hair around the knife, making sure I couldn’t move.

He forced my wrists above my head and the knife, arms outstretched.

I stopped struggling then. I was trapped underneath him, forced to face him, his skull face looking at me with eyes cold as death.

Breathless, I faced that unseeing glare, feeling blood trickling down my chin, blood on my hands, on my feet. Even if I kept running or fighting, he would burn the whole neighborhood down to get to me. More would suffer, more would get hurt. My friends already had been.

He didn’t say a word, he just watched me, waiting for me to surrender, to let go. To accept the inevitable. That I was his now. His to bend and break and tear apart until there was nothing left of me.

But if I had to go, I’d do it my way. Fearless.

At the corner of my eye, I saw movement in the pantry closet. I pretended to try and tear my hair from the knife to look over. I saw April there, her mouth covered. Emery didn’t notice her since I was his focus.

He had me and he was taking in his victory. Relishing in the fact he’d caught me.

But maybe that was his downfall. He had me but he had run out of time too. I could hear the sirens all around. Liam could come any moment, armed to the teeth. If Emery didn’t leave with me now, he might lose his chance.

April whimpered from the pantry and Emery finally broke my gaze to look over.No, don’t look at her. Look at me. Don’t hurt her too.

I licked my lips, tasting blood. “Emery,” I whispered, hoping to distract him.

He slowly turned to me, his head tilting as if me calling his name sounded strange to his ears. As if it might be far away.

“Please, Emery, your sister wouldn’t want this.” I thought maybe mentioning her would get him to listen but that didn’t seem to work at all. His head tipped up to look toward the door.

My hips against his were starting to hurt, his weight heavy and warm—too warm. I tried to shift under him. I moved against him, pressing into him to somehow lift him up with me but he was too damn heavy, too solid, too strong.

I moved my hips again and something flickered in his gaze—awareness, acknowledgement. Something primal. Yes, I had his full attention now.

I pressed myself into him harder and felt his body change, felt him go still, heard his hiss of breath through the mask. He tried to hide his reaction, but I felt him grow hard between my thighs, felt his stomach clench. Moving slow, so slow, his eyes drew downward to watch me grind against him. I refused toacknowledge that my body was starting to react too, that I was aching, and even growing wet. I was fucking terrified, and still my body was lighting up as I ground myself against his cock. But I put it from my mind, trying to keep him here. Because once he took me that was the end, no one would find me, not in time, I knew he would make sure of it.

“Emery…” I breathed. I swiveled my hips, and in turn, his hand let go of my wrists to slide down my arm, then around my throat, but not to squeeze…no, not yet, just to settle it there, cupping firmly. I arched my back, knowing I had him. I placed my hands on his arm that held my throat. Then I brought them to the sides of his face to bring him closer. Carefully, I lifted his mask, lifted it above his head so I could see him.

It was like a beautiful portrait that someone had carved into and desecrated. One scar cut across his cheek and curved upward, another along his jawline up to his ear, another across one eyebrow. It seemed his whole face had been marred and I could only speculate who had done it and why.

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