Page 29 of Run

“Not the crazy beast you were expecting?”

“No…not at all. You’re…you’re normal.”

With a chuckle, I take her hand in mine and pull the mask from her grip, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter. “I wouldn’t say normal. Far from it actually. But for you, I’ll try to be anything you want.”

It’s an odd feeling as she strokes down my cheek, her nails lightly scratching on my scruff. She investigates my square jaw, and nose, then traces over my bottom lip, making me peek my tongue out, seeking just the faintest of touches from her on it. When she reaches up, her metal cuffs in my face, to reach my hair I close my eyes and just feel her exploration. A low moan rumbles in my chest when she grabs a handful of it and tugs lightly.

I’m lost in the sensuality of her touch, and don’t hear the clatter of the spoon against the bowl. It’s my fault for letting my guard down, and when I open my eyes to look up at her with the adoration I feel for her, the spicy hot tomato sauce she spits viciously at me blinds me.

“What the fuck?” I yell, grabbing my face, my fingers rubbing at my eyelids, trying to rid my vision of the hot peppers that burn like fire.

“Help!” She screams, leaping off the stool, her bound ankles smashing into my kneecaps as she tries to jump over me. “Help!”

Her shrieks are unnecessary, no one will hear her down here, especially when Magnolia starts barking at her, snapping her teeth at Lily’s arms as I grab her and pull her to the floor with me.

“For fuck’s sake Lily.” I spit at her, wrapping my arms and legs around her as she fights and flails against my body.

“Help!Someone!”

“No one will hear you.” I grunt, holding her tightly, watching for the swing of her head. I don’t want her breaking open her forehead again.

She bucks and writhes in my grasp, her hair wrapping around my face, the red tendrils getting covered in the tomato sauce, dragging it across my skin. It’s hot, but not hot enough to burn my flesh, but for fuck’s sake the red pepper flakes in it really hurts the eyes.

Such a feisty little thing you are, princess.

It’s a futile escape attempt, and almost a comical one at that. Where she thought she was going with her wrists and ankles cuffed I have no idea. How she thought she would get past Magnolia is even funnier, and as she struggles and grunts against my chest, I just hold on tightly, laughing little chuckles until she finally gives in and submits to the fact that she’s going nowhere.

Chapter Seventeen

“I hate you.” Lily growls as I drag her by the chained wrists to the bathroom in the corner of the cellar.

She’s filthy from rolling around on the floor, and there’s food in her hair. She needs a bath, desperately.

“You’ll learn to like me. I’m very likeable you know, if you give me a chance.” I chuckle, pushing her into the bathroom and closing the door behind us with a kick of my foot.

“I doubt that.” She huffs, stumbling into the small room, her ankle cuffs jingling with the exaggerated movements.

“Just the other night you were cumming all over your sheets for me baby. I’m still the same man.”

“Yeah, then you were a fantasy, and not a raving lunatic who kidnaps people and keeps them in a torture chamber.”

“Well, you really didn’t give me the option to woo you my dear. I would have, you know.” I say, turning her around to face me, brushing a lock of tomato sauce covered hair off her forehead while she rolls her eyes at me. “Don’t do that, princess.”

“Do what?”

“Roll your eyes like you aren’t the least bit turned on. I saw your book collection on the shelf in your room. I know youlike masked men who take what they want. You crave it don’t you, you naughty thing?”

“Yeah in a book.”

“But I can give you that in real life. I can chase you through the woods, hunt you until you’re exhausted, give you every dirty fantasy you read about.”

“Then kill me?” She asks, her stormy eyes searching my bare face.

I can see the curiosity in them. The way they scan my features, softening when they reach my throat and the tattoos that grace it, including the pink lips inked over my pulse point. For the briefest of moments she raises her hands, like she’s going to touch it, but pulls away before her fingertips make contact.

“I would rather not.” I say, grabbing her hand gently, bringing it back up to where her gaze still focuses. She gulps loudly when I press her fingers to my throat and drag them over the artwork she so inquisitively stares at. “I would rather have you alive and screaming my name every chance we get.”

“Screaming H isn’t that sexy.” She says sarcastically, allowing me to move her touch down my neck to my chest over my wet and stained t-shirt. “Do you have a real name?”

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