Page 38 of Eden's Deliverance

Skylar’s footsteps are on my heel, and she must hear us too, judging by the yelp that sounds a few feet ahead. I cut to the right and book it, aiming to get ahead of her, then duck behind a tree that’s directly in her path. When Scarlett breaches the side, I throw both arms around her waist and lift her off the ground, restraining her against my chest.

“No! Put me down, you psycho!” she screams, kicking her feet against my knees like a madwoman.

But I’m not letting her go. Not anymore.

“I don’t fucking think so.” Leaning into her ear, I whisper, “We know all your secrets now. We’re not going anywhere.”

The thrashing continues until Skylar grabs her ankles, locking them together as we lower her to the ground. When I pull a knife from my pocket and flick it open with emphasis, her entire body freezes. She’ll never admit it to us, but thanks to the journal, we know all about how much shewishesshe had the courage to put on a Ruby mask.

Apparently, her nightmares started after one particular Eden session—the one where I pulled my knife on her after tying her up and making her suck my dick. It might just be my favorite night with Scarlett so far, especially now that I know it left such a mark on her soul.

Aside from the dreams, she’s confessed that the knife play excited her, however brief of a moment it was. I read pages upon pages of her thoughts on it—how it made her feel, and how she sometimes fantasizes about it when she makes herself come.

Now that she’s still, I kneel by her side and pull the cape away from her shoulder a bit before plunging the knife through the fabric and into the ground. Skylar follows suit, crawling up her body to stick one of his own blades through the fabric at her right shoulder. She’d either have to slip down through the hood or untie the collar to escape, but that won’t be happening.

“Get her hands,” I order, not even bothering to look at him. He positions himself behind her head so we each have a point of control.

“No! Please-please stop,” she begs, trying to rip at the strings that tie the cape around her neck, but Sky’s already wrestling her arms above her head.

He flattens her hands to the ground and plants a knee on each palm, using his own hands to keep her elbows pinned. It must hurt, because she lets out this little whine that shoots straight to my dick.

She’s not looking at me, but when I straddle her waist, pull out a new knife, and press the blade into the center of her chest, her eyes shoot down to watch.

The soft, fluffy cloth of her undershirt cuts like butter, falling away to reveal her perfect tits. Well…perfect except for these fucking hickeys marring her skin. I tap each one with the point of my blade, taking note of the way her breath seizes every time the metal makes contact.

“Why are you doing this to us, Ruby?”I quote, reciting the same words the attacker from her nightmare used. There’s no way she doesn’t know by now that we’ve read the journal, but when her eyes widen, I smirk maliciously. “Yeah, we read it all. The dreams, your fantasies…” I bring the knife up to her cheek and lightly run the blunt end of the blade down her face. “I know how turned on you get from my knife, don’t deny it.”

“Please.”

I hover the blade over one of the hickeys—specifically the one on her left tit. Her voice squeaks when I press the tip into the mark, watching the flesh indent without breaking skin. “I know you think about me when you’re with your fucktoy. Is that what happened tonight? You were thinking of me, and when you saw me in the doorway, it made you come. Didn’t it?”

“No. You disgust me,” she says through clenched teeth, clearly trying to hide the pain of Skylar’s weight. She’s so close to crying, but she wouldn’t be our girl if she wasn’t resilient as fuck.

The knife digs harder into her skin until a small bit of red liquid bubbles around the tip. “Don’t lie to me, Ruby. You’ve already done that once. How many more chances do you think I’m going to give you?” I look down at her, but her eyes are focused on the blood. She’s entranced, face completely washed over with stupefaction. “Tell me.”

She looks up then, but the awe is gone.

“You wanna know what made me come?” She asks with a nasty grin, only continuing after I give her a slow nod. “I came when I saw you, because the thought of how fucked in the head you’d get over seeing me with another man brought me so much pleasure, I couldn’t hold it in.” With the final word, her head jolts forward and a glob of spit smacks against the plastic of my mask.

It takes a second to compose myself, every nerve in my body flaming with white-hot anger, but when I hand the knife to Skylar, she knows she fucked up.

“Is that so?” I smush her breasts together in my hands, squeezing and massaging them roughly with my fingertips. “Then maybe you can think of him while I replace every single one of these marks with something better.”

I was purposefully vague, and the shock on her face makes the ambiguity worth it. She thinks I mean to cut her beautiful skin, to make her bleed from all of these pretty bruises. But I won’t…at least not on the outside.

I start with the blotch on her left tit—the one that’s bleeding—licking up the crimson blood before wrapping my lips around the spot and sucking as hard as I can. Her legs thrash wildly at the shock of my brutal assault, but when they freeze,a quick glance upward reveals why. Skylar has the blade of my knife pressed against her throat, and the tears I’ve been waiting for finally make an appearance.

I might not have gone that far, but then again, he and I work differently.

Releasing her skin with a loudplop, I sit up to admire my work. “Are you crying, darling? We’ve only just started.”

“Fuck you.”

My hand shoots up to grab her face, pinching her cheeks assertively until her lips pry open a little. “I would say don’t threaten me with a good time, but you sort of already did before you took it back. Or did you forget the little promise you made about coming to the Red Room? Open up.” Skylar backs off and there’s an awful attempt to shake her head, but I use my grip on her face to pull up an inch before slamming her skull back to the ground. “Open your fucking mouth.”

Fighting through the discomfort with a defiant glare—her eyes cutting as shallowly as my blade did her flesh—she opens her mouth and spitefully hangs her tongue out over her bottom lip.

“See? You still know how to be my good girl.” I let some saliva pool on my tongue, then lean down and spit it into her mouth. When I tap the pads of my fingers against her cheek, she swallows obediently. “Are you going to let me finish now?” She nods but the tears fall faster, so I wipe them away with my thumb before returning to my mission.

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