Page 16 of Brutal Savior

I’m distracted, not ready when Quinn springs to life like a sleeping cat woken by a bucket of water. Her head, which just a second ago was cuddled against my chest, twists, and her teeth sink into my shoulder through the shirt.

It’s just so bloody unexpected that my arms slacken for an instant, and it’s enough. She twists out of my grip and tears off running as soon as her feet hit the ground.

She’s running. From me.

The predator in me roars.

I wait, letting her get a good start. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty. She’s pelting blindly into the open space at the heart of the compound, the manicured gardens and woods. At forty seconds, I take off after her.

Game on.

Chapter Seven

Quinn

Nothing will ever compareto the confusion of falling asleep in a prison cell and waking up being carried by a stone golem. A monster taking me back to his lair. The bite was an instinctive thing born of panic, and I almost froze when it actually worked, but thankfully, my survival instincts are better than that.

I’m running.

My hands are still tied, but my leg restraints are gone, thank the fucking devil. I can run. I’ve always been quick, and how fast can he move, lugging all those muscles around? Not fast enough, that’s for sure. I can’t even hear him behind me.

I don’t have time to register what I’m running through beyond that it’s green and pretty. Grass, gravel paths, trees—it’s all a blur as I power ahead. I pass a person and get a flash of a shocked female face before streaking past her.

The ground gives way to tiles, and I grind to a halt as I reach a gigantic swimming pool. I totter on the edge but just stop myselfbefore I fall in. Shit. With my hands tied, I could have drowned. I choose a direction at random and speed off around the edge, dodging lounge chairs.

What sort of cult has a fucking swimming pool?

I’m almost at the far end before a voice calls behind me. “Getting tired yet?”

It makes me jump, breaking my stride, but I manage to keep upright. He’s close, and he didn’t even sound winded. My own lungs are starting to burn from the exertion, though I’ve got a while to go yet. Years ago, when I was on the track team, I could have run for days. Not anymore.

I don’t waste time looking back.

Past the swimming pool, the scenery opens out onto a smooth, flat green expanse. A little flag tips me off to its purpose. A goddamn golf course. What next, a pony club? It makes for solid footing, so I tap into my reserves and speed up. Hopefully Jacob’s burst of speed will be short-lived.

“I’m impressed. Didn’t have you pegged as an athlete.”

Holy fucking shit, he’s close. Sure enough, I can hear his breathing and footfalls now. Not puffing and panting, but steady, even breaths. And he’s getting closer by the second.

I put my head down and force myself into a sprint. My breath comes in ragged wheezes now, and my legs burn. I push forward, hoping—

A thick arm wraps around my middle. It’s an iron bar, and I’ve no hope of escape. I flail and scratch, raking my nails across his face before he flips me over his shoulder, holding me with one arm. I squirm and struggle, banging my fists on his back until his free hand lifts my skirt up and lands a smack on my ass.

Oh my fucking God.

The pain is a shocking flare. I freeze. I’ve been spanked before, messing about in the bedroom, but nothing like the apocalyptic slap he just landed. It felt like getting hit with a shovel.

Just as I start to yell, he does it again.

And again.

And again.

Each smack lands on the same spot, right at the top of my thighs. The savagery of it shuts me up. Pain blooms, a red flower starting at the place of impact and ricocheting through my body.

Again.

Again.

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