Page 7 of Soul Of A Villain

“What a hellcat you are!” His chuckle turned into a surprised yelp when Londyn kicked backward, her heel connecting with his knee. “Vicious, too.” He released her just long enough to spin her around so he could backhand her across the face. “We’ll have to do something about that.” His hand, scarred and ugly, gripped her chin. Holding her still, he glared down at her, his features hidden behind the mask’s grotesque visage. “Now, let’s get these zip ties on, get you back to the ranch, and make this official.”

With a strength she didn’t realize she possessed, Londyn swung the rock at the man’s head. Gripping it like it was her only salvation, it collided with his temple, knocking the mask completely off. Even in the diluted light of the moon, the surprise on his face was apparent. Blood trickled from a cut left behind by the weapon’s sharp edge.

“You little bitch,” he snarled. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

He struck Londyn again, knocking her to the ground. The rock fell from her hand, lost in the sooty darkness. Then he was on her, his hands ripping at the sports bra, pulling and tugging the jogging pants she’d been permitted to wear. Guttural, animal-like sounds came from deep in his throat as he tore at her clothes.

Londyn fought back even though she was becoming dizzy and disoriented from his blows.

“Fucking chasing you through these goddamn woods for almost an hour…” the man growled. He tore the jogging pants off her and used his body to pry her legs apart while trying to catch her mouth with his. Locking her hands in a tight grip, he wrenched them high above her head and pinned them in the dirt. When she tried bucking him off her body, he reared back with an ugly laugh. The moonlight caught on the gray streaks in his hair as he quickly unfastened his pants. Feeling the hot length of his cock searing the inside of her thigh, Londyn screamed again.

“That’s what I want to hear…” he laughed. “I like it. Do it ag?—”

Thud.

The man’s eyes widened in shock. Londyn stared up at him, uncomprehending when the attack abruptly stopped.

Thud.

Again, that sound.

The man slumped forward slowly andthen toppled sideways, trapping Londyn’s legs beneath his weight. She tried to scoot out from under him, but he was too heavy. She was trapped. Trapped and choking on hysterical sobs as a shadow loomed, growing larger and more ominous by the second.

No. Not a shadow but the Devil himself, with shoulders broad enough to block out the moonlight and clad in a midnight-black tuxedo. A tousled mess of dark-brown hair fell over the edge of his terrifying skull mask, and a jawline of chiseled perfection was evident when his attention turned to the fallen man. Gripped in one of his large hands was a heavy, tactical-type flashlight identical to the one Londyn’s attacker carried. In the faint glow of the moon, she saw tattoos on his fingers but could not make out what they were.

Using his boot, the man kicked the injured man aside. Startled by her sudden freedom, Londyn belatedly tried scrambling away as the man’s firm mouth curved into a cruelly amused smile. He watched her for a few seconds, apparently entertained by her reaction, before tucking the bloodied flashlight into his back pocket. Stooping, he silently grabbed her by the ankles, his fingers wrapping neatly around the delicate network of narrow bones and using his grip to jerk her closer.

Zip ties appeared in his hand. The hazy part of Londyn’s brain registered his actions. With quick, efficient movements, as though he’d done this thousands of times before, the man flipped her onto her stomach and securely tethered her hands behind her back.

“Let’s go, little killer.” His voice was low and melodic as he hauled her up onto her feet, pressing his body against her back. His cologne teased her nose. Sharp and clean. Like the winter air spiked with pine needles and cardamon. Stronger than iron, his grip was impossible to break.

Londyn screamed in frustration. When the man clamped a hand over her mouth to shut her up, she promptly bit him, her teeth sinking into his skin.

He allowed the assault for a few seconds then, with terrifying calm, yanked his hand free. Drawing her closer, his mouth skimmed her ear; his breath warm, his words chilling. Pressed against his body was like being held to an open flame. He was so hot. Londyn nearly melted into him, her icy skin delighting in the unexpected warmth of his embrace.

“Do that again and I’ll have theabsolute pleasureof fucking you and killing you on this very spot. Do you understand?”

Londyn stomped her foot on top of his in response, hating that his amused chuckle frightened her more than any uttered threats.

“You’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you? Guess I need to take you down a notch,” he murmured. “You still want to play this pointless game of cat and mouse? All right. I can do that. I’ll let you go. Give you a head start and hunt you again. But know this. When I catch you—and I will catch you—I’ll fuck you. Hard. Without mercy or kindness. Right here in the dirt.” He kicked the body of the fallen man, eliciting a pained groan from him. “With this fucker watching.”

“Let me go,” Londyn seethed.

“Want to get fucked that badly, do you?” Trailing his hand over her neck and the leather collar, he gripped it suddenly, pressing his thumb against the underside of her chin until her head was forced back. The night sky filled her vision. An endless, vast expanse of darkness punctuated with glittering stars and the watery light of a silver moon.

“I want you to go to Hell,” she snarled, throwing caution to the wind while an uncontrollable quiver somewhat ruined the ferocity of her words.

His laughter burned her ear, his lips tracing the curve of her neck as she strained away from him. “We’ll go together. It’ll be fun.”

She did not respond to that. Something in his tone told her this man was well acquainted with Hell.

“Ah, you going quiet on me now?” he chided.

“There’s little sense in talking when you have no intention of listening.” Londyn clenched her teeth as his hand drifted from her neck to her stomach. He kept her positioned with her back to his front, and although he still wore the skull mask, she stupidly wished she could see his face.

“He ripped your pants.”

Londyn frowned at the iciness of her captor’s statement. Honestly, she’d forgotten the state of her clothing until he mentioned it. Now, as if her body needed the reminder, she shivered uncontrollably. “Yes.”

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