Page 63 of The Fire Went Wild

Pain throbs behind my left eye, the start of a headache.

“Tell me!” I shriek. “Why are you doing this?”

“To show you what you are,” Jaxon says softly, still holding out the knife.

Realization hits me like a punch. “You think I’m likeyou?” I sputter out. “No. No, absolutely not.” I shake my head furiously, so hard the scarf slips back. Jaxon lifts his hand and I flinch away, but all he does is pull the fabric back over my hair.

“It’s complicated,” he says.

“Don’t ever say those two fucking words to me again!” I dive sideways, desperate to get away, but Jaxon squeezes my waist and pulls me up to him and whirls me around to face the bed. The knife presses against my stomach, it’s metal cold even through my sweater.

“I’ll help,” Jaxon murmurs into my ear, the mask cold against my skin. He steps forward, forcing me to go with him. His cock is hard, which both disturbs and arouses me. “I’ll guide your hand.”

“No!” I scream. Jaxon grabs my right hand and pries my fingers open.

Over on the bed, the man groans.

“Hurry,” Jaxon says. “So you won’t have to fight him.”

“Help!” I scream, bucking back against Jaxon. My head throbs. I can’t believe I’m getting one of these headaches now. And this one has come on sofast. The pain is sharp enough that light flickers in my vision, and pale haloes settle over everything.

The man rolls onto his back, eyes still closed.

Jaxon snarls something in that strange, alien language, then slides the knife handle into my palm and pushes my fingers closed, his hand wrapped around mine.

“Help me!” I scream at the man. “He’s going to make me kill you!”

The man doesn’t move.

Jaxon forces me forward, pressing me between his body and the mattress. I scream as he forces my hand, and the knife, up over my head. It catches the light and shines silver.

“Why?” I sob, tears streaking down my cheeks. “Why are you doing this?”

Jaxon answers in that ugly, cruel language and tightens his grip around my waist, pressing me into him so that his cock presses into the cleft of my ass.

“Just once,” he says. “Just once.”

My headache flares, but I still fight against Jaxon’s strength, my arm muscles straining as I push back against him, trying to keep the knife lifted.

“Just once,” Jaxon keeps whispering. “Just do it once. That’ll be enough.”

The man groans. His eyes flutter open, settle right on me, and widen with fear.

And, to my horror, my clit throbs.

That’s enough. I lose what little leverage I have against Jaxon, and he overpowers me, pushing the knife down. It swings in a wide arc.

At the last minute, Jaxon lets go.

But the knife doesn’t stop.

It arcs through the air until the blade parts the flesh of the man’s shoulder, until it splits through fat and muscle, until it lands in the jarring obstruction of bone.

Blood spurts.

The man screams.

And I?—

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