Page 97 of Deviant

After putting a name to my would-be attacker, I feel my tense muscles starting to relax into his hold, no longer afraid of what might happen next.

He wants to scare me. Last night at the bridge, he told me as much. He said he was going to hurt me. And I believe that he would if he could.

The thing is… Elias has run out of time.

After tonight, I’ll be long gone, and whatever plans he had for me will cease to exist. All Elias has is a few hours at best. Not nearly enough time to punish me like he wants.

I saw it in his eyes last night… the yearning… the longing to make me feel his pain. If I knew that was his plan all along, I might not have willingly volunteered forThe Scourge.I wouldmuch rather feel his hate and spend my last days hurting under his hand than anyone else’s.

But Ididvolunteer, and hopefully, by the end of this night, I will be named one of the Harvest Dozen. Whatever his plans for me, they are now null and void.

Pity. I would have enjoyed being hurt by him.

I take a deep breath, my skin singing in delight with the fragrance of sage and mint surrounding me. Even if my ears betrayed me, I’d know that scent anywhere—it’s definitely Elias.

I was wrong.

There is one person in this town who will feel my absence after all—and that’s him.

Suddenly, I’m reminded that I’ll never see Elias again after tonight. The thought is so unsettling that it feels like a fist has wrapped itself around my heart with the sole intent of strangling it.

Seeing as he lost my attention, Elias tugs at my hair, the sweet pinch to my scalp almost making me sigh in utter glee.

‘Take whatever you want, Elias. I deserve it. Do your worst,’ I think to myself while I pretend to continue to fight him off.

If Elias suspects for even a minute that I know it’s him, or worse, that I want this, he’ll stop and walk away.

I know that much.

So, if playing the part of the damsel in distress will get me what I want, so be it.

I would rather spend the last hours I have enduring his brand of hate than having to watch another second of people enjoying themselves on the night twelve of us are selected to die.

While I continue to pretend to wrestle out of his grip, I make sure to rub my ass around his hard cock, his arousal spurring me on.

Hate and guilt make for weird bedfellows, but here we are.

When he releases his grip from my mouth so he can grab my breast over my dress, my first reaction is to smile, but then I remember myself and act like I’m about to scream.

“Scream, and it will be the last thing you do,” he whispers in my ear, his voice so gruff I almost don’t recognize it as his.

I swallow dryly and nod, my heart beating so fast that I almost miss his next words.

“Good girl.”

Usually, I hate it when people call me that, but when it comes from Elias, there is something about those words that makes me want to be good, even if only for him.

I let out a shriek when he kicks my legs apart and bends me down until I have no choice but to grab onto the wall for fear that I might fall on my face. I stifle a wanton moan as his hands move under my dress and skim over my legs, thighs, and hips, only to have him surprise me when he flicks the hem of my dress over my head, covering most of my face with it.

Like this, all I can see is white lace around me, his wolf mask no longer visible.

But I can still feel his hard body pressed up against mine.

I bite down on my lower lip as he runs his crotch up and down the crack of my ass, his hands parting my cheeks, my thong leaving very little to the imagination. He takes a step back to appraise the masterpiece he’s created, a deep groan escaping his lips. My heart continues to pound erratically, especially now that I’m unable to predict his next move.

My knees almost buckle when I hear the tell-tale sound of a zipper being pulled down, followed by the rip of a condom wrapper.

Oh, my God.

---