Page 57 of Turn That River Red

Because I thought I would get out of this compound before this happened. Before she discovered what I am.

“I’m really not going to hurt you,” I murmur, reaching out to her on instinct—only to realize as I do that my hand is covered in blood and specked with brain matter. Mercy screams when she sees it and darts sideways, her panic making her thoughtless. I grab her around her waist before she bursts out of the house and ruins this for both of us.

“No,” I whisper into her, pulling her up to me without thinking about how painfully hard I am. When she feels my erection, she screams again. Tries to get away. “No, I can’t let you do that.”

“Why?” she sobs.

“I don’t want to get caught.”

Mercy slumps down, weeping. I whistle softly, and a few seconds later, Max shoots into the house. He goes straight to Mercy and licks her fingers, which makes her hiccup and jerk back in fear.

“He’sreallynot gonna hurt you,” I murmur into her hair, still holding her tight. “He’s the reason I even knew you were in trouble.”

Mercy wails out her terror, and I know we can’t stay here. I got what I came for, which means it’s time for me to vanish into the desert. As for Mercy, I’ve got two options:

Kill her, or take her with me.

“Why?” she whispers, over and over like she’s reciting a prayer. “Why? Why me? Why did you do this to me? Why?”

Max keeps licking at her fingers, trying his damnedest to bring her a little comfort. I slide my hand up over her chest, inching closer to her throat.

Because you’re beautiful,I think, even though I know better than to say it aloud. Because of the way she yields to my touch. Because of the sound of her scream shattering the early morning silence beside the Concho River.

I have one hand squeezing around her waist, pinning her up against me. The other lays over her heart because I can’t bring myself to kill her.

Fuck.Fuck.

“They’re going to arrest you,” she babbles. “They’re going to arrestme, they’ll think I had something to do?—”

“That’s not going to happen.” Her fear scent is overpowering in its sweetness, and I wish, with a sudden, violent clarify, that she was one of my kind. That I could throw her into the puddle of blood oozing across the floor and fuck her until we’re both drenched in death and moaning with pleasure. It would make this so much easier, wouldn’t it?

God, Jaxon really lucked out.

But I’m not Jaxon, and I’m not lucky, and right now I’m holding a panicked, terrified human woman that I don’t want to kill.

“Mercy,” I whisper softly. “Mercy, I’m not going to hurt you, okay? I need you to remember that.”

It doesn’t do any good. She screams and kicks against me, which I expect. I clamp my hand over her mouth and drag her into the kitchen, Max trotting behind us, still trying to lick at Mercy’s fingers. These cabins are furnished, just like mine is. There’ll be something in here I can use.

I keep my hand clamped around Mercy’s mouth as I jerk the drawers open, the contents rattling. Mercy screams in terror, her breath hot and damp against my palm, but I skip right past the drawer of knives, even if my belly tightens at the sight of them.

“Fuck.” I drag Mercy across the kitchen, over beside the stacked washer/dryer, and that’s where I finally find what I was hoping for: a roll of black duct tape. She wails when she sees it, thrashing against me. Her panic is thick as syrup, and I’ll admit I like it. A lot. But I’ve got to focus on getting us out of here.

I let go of Mercy’s mouth just long enough to wrap the tapearound it, silencing her once again. She stares at me from over the top of the tape, her eyes wide with fear and red from weeping. It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, but I snapshot the image for later and keep going. Lord knows Mercy’s never gonna let me touch her again.

I really should kill her. But I just don’t want to.

I wrench the tape around Mercy’s wrists, binding her hands behind her back. Do the same with her ankles. It takes a few minutes, with all her squirming and all those betrayed, terrified glances from above the tape. By the time I’m done, my cock is so hard, so sensitive, that the fabric of my underwear is almost enough to set me off.

I ease her down on the kitchen floor, where she rolls back and forth in a panic. My balls tighten like I’m about to come.

“Watch her,” I tell Max.

He barks once, then curls up at Mercy’s side, tail thumping. Mercy’s muffled screams follow me into the living room, where I grab a blanket off the sofa and gather up her clothes—the dress, the panties. No bra. Because three hours ago, I was cutting it off her, and she was willingly spreading her legs for me.

Now she’s seen what I really am, and I’m afraid it might have broken her. The idea doesn’t exactly diminish my erection, though.

Back in the kitchen, Mercy lays sideways, bound and weeping and naked. And for a moment, all I can do is stare at her—her anguish and suffering and terror are so beautiful. Exquisite. Perfect. And I want more than anything to mar that perfection, to pull my throbbing cock out and jerk off until she’s strung with my cum.

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