Page 17 of Hunted for the Holidays

I fucking apologized to him, told him he was fucking right, and got our little captive to submit–and now he's going to act like this? Shaking my head, I stomp down the hall, grabbing Charlotte some clothes from my room on the way. I don't know what's going on with Wyatt. I shared her with him. Hell, I let him suck me off. I'm not fucking stupid, I may be out of the loop when it comes to most things these days, but I've seen the way he looks at me.

Call me a goddamn idiot to think that he enjoyed what happened in the woods just as much as I did and it might ease some of the fucking tension between us.

Whatever. He’ll get on board when he sees what a good girl she can be; how sweet sharing her will be. Because I just lied to my brother. Keeping her is most definitelynotsomething I regret. Something about her sweet innocence has snaked it’s way inside my cold black heart. She’smine. And I have no fucking intention of letting her go.

Stepping through the open door, I find Charlotte in the bath, moving a washcloth over her skin, wincing as she drags it across our initials. I don't think the cuts are that deep, but I'd be surprised if they didn't leave a scar. I fucking preen at that thought. No matter what happens with her, my fucking claim is carved into her skin forever.

I reach down to adjust the growing hard-on in my jeans.I'll give her a break before I play with her again.

She catches my movement from her periphery as I set everything onto the counter.

"Can you hand me the towel?" she asks, her voice small, almost innocent.

But she's not. She's more of whore than she lets on.

I rip the white towel from the rack, holding it out for her as she stands, water dripping off her stiffened nipples. The tub starts to drain as she dries herself off, and it takes every last bit of control I have to keep from fucking her right now. I busy myself with getting out the antiseptic wipes and antibiotic cream.

“Derek?” she asks hesitantly as I lay out my supplies on the counter.

When I don’t respond, she continues anyway. “Are you two going to kill me?”

Spinning around, I take in the sight of her. She’s bloodied and bruised and has spent her entire life being beaten down. She might be our captive, but there’s something about her that makes me feel protective and possessive.

“No, bunny,” I sigh before holding out my hand to help her from the clawfoot tub.

She carefully steps out, towel wrapped around her tiny figure.

“You have to understand, we’re not good men—I’m not a good man. I will lie, cheat, hurt and even kill to get what I want.” Stepping into her, I get close enough that her heaving chest brushes against my shirt. Wrapping my fingers around her chin, I lift her eyes to meet mine. “But what I want, Charlie, is you.”

She sucks a short breath in as she digests my words. I know she’s a liability, a weakness, a problem. But she’s also an obsession. And I’m not going to let her go.

"Sit." I tip my chin towards the closed toilet lid. "And let me see your chest."

Without an ounce of resistance, she does as she's told.

"Good girl," I praise, and I swear her eyes light up.

I get to work cleaning her wounds. Nothing requires any bandaging, so I just smear the ointment over her tits, pinching her nipples while I'm at it.

"You like that, don't you Charlie?" I murmur when her breath hitches.

"Yes," she moans as I twist them between my fingers.

"Good," I reply, withdrawing my touch. "Keep being a good girl and you'll get rewarded tonight."

I set two of the little white tablets on the counter beside the glass of water, gathering up the first aid kit. "Take those, I need to check something. I'll meet you in the kitchen."

As I'm walking down the hall, I hear a few beeps coming from Wyatt's room. Stepping inside, curious as to what’s making that noise, I hear it again, this time accompanied by static and a distorted voice.

"Is anyone on this channel? My ski-mobile broke down. Will continue on foot. Over."

“Roger. Rendezvous at base in forty-six hours. Radio if prize is located before. Over.”

Prize. She’s not their fucking prize. She’s mine. And they’re not getting their fucking hands on her.

9

CANDY SHOP BY CRYJAXX

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