Page 97 of Bloodlust

He's not just a faceless nobody. He's not just anothertoy. He's something special. Something unknown. An artifact.

A fucking holy relic of sex and insanity.

"Over there," I say, glancing at the ironclad bar. "Hands up." Hayden narrows his eyes, displeased but cooperative as he walks toward the chains. Blood courses through my heart, my pulse quickening with excitement as I check out his ass, admiring the subtle movements of every single fucking muscle in his lithe, tempting body.Fuck. "Turn around."

Hayden looks up, a ghost of a smirk on his lips as he notices the hanging handcuffs. "Can't say I've done this before."

"No? Never been in cuffs before, Doc?" I let out an airy chuckle as I approach his naked, vulnerable body, the urge to devour him on the precipice of destroying my plans. I stop in front of him and pull over a metal stool. Feathering my fingers gently up his chest, I step up and reach for one of the cuffs. "Hand?" Hayden obeys, lifting his arms in the air. My thighs clench as our fingers touch, and my skin burns with desire. "And the other?" I whisper. His hot breath blows into my cleavage as I lock him in place. Unable to resist, I inhale the masculine, oaky scent of his cologne, and my head spins.

"Don't fall now," he rasps as I stabilize myself against his body, using his shoulders for support. My nails dig into his blades, my breathing heavy as I look down at him. He's lost in my tormented eyes, and I in his. In barely a whisper, he adds, "I won't be able to catch you."

Then I better not fall.

"It's poetic," I observe with a faint smile as I step offthe stool and cast it aside. Circling my prey, I glide the riding crop around his sculpted torso. He shivers from the foreign touch. "A fed in handcuffs." I stop in front of him, biting my lips as I tilt my head. "Doesn't happen often enough."

Hayden gives me a conflicted look as if he only now remembers our roles. Where we come from. What we do. Who we are.

"Safe word?" I ask before he has a chance to speak.Iknow who we are.Iknow our roles.Ihaven't forgotten. "Quickly."

With a devious grin, Hayden responds. "Shark."

And like a cold-blooded beast with its target locked in, I attack.

Starting off gentle, to ease him in, I tap the crop against his thighs, his forearms, his back. He moans from the pleasure, muscle tensing. I increase the force and focus on the erogenous zones of his immaculate fucking body. With the whipping sound of the crop, mixed with Hayden's labored, breathy groans, it's like an orchestra. A pristine, harmonious song that hypnotizes me, puts me in a goddamn trance.

The past, the present, and the future all flash before my eyes as emotions overcome me—sadness, grief, loss, and pain.

So much fucking pain.

"You lied to me," I grunt, slashing the crop against his ass, marking his skin with his own betrayal. "You used me!" Another mark. Another lie. "You fucking manipulated me!"

"Harder," he rasps, tugging on the secured cuffs, theiron bar rattling. "Let it out. Let it all out. Everything, Camilla. Every goddamn thing!"

Like a tectonic plate that's been threatening to shift for too many years, I release the havoc that's been building in my heart.

"I hate you!" I cry, breathing frantically. My voice cracks as the conviction in my tone slips. "I fucking hate you."

He groans, his back arching from the pain of my actions, of the blatant lie of my words.

I need to stop. This isn’t right. This isn’t proper.

"I hate you," I whisper, tears welling up in my eyes. I stop in front of him and rip off my mask. My lips quiver as my body vibrates, my heart rattling between my icy lungs. I shake my head, swallowing as I catch his fiercely submissive gaze. "I hate you."

He stares at me like I'm a goddess. Like he hasn't seen anything quite as angelic. There's admiration brimming from his skin, like an aura of total and utter acceptance that I'm somehowexactlywho he thinks I am.

But I'm not.

He's wrong. He's wrong.

Hehasto be wrong.

"Uncuff me," he breathes as I take a step back. A sudden pang of anxiety flutters in my chest. Can he see me? He can, can't he? He struggles against the restraints, grunting with pleas as he demands again, "Now!"

"No," I whisper to myself. This can't be happening. I can't allow this to happen. He can't break the last wall. He can't tear it down. He can't. It's the last line of defense, without it, I'm exposed. I'm naked. "No..."

"Fine," he seethes, flexing the muscles in his winding arms. My eyes widen with sheer shock as he breaks free of the cuffs, fragments of the once strong metal falling to the floor as if it were plastic.

Like a depraved bull, he charges at me, his gaze glued to my red lips. I don't have time to react as scoops me up and slams me against the back wall, my legs wrapping around his waist.

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