Page 62 of Heartless Game

“Isaac, don’t you dare fucking do this,” she warned through the wet thong I’d stuffed in her mouth. I had to lean in to understand her. “I swear, you leave me here and I’ll never fucking forgive you.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you bit me,” I told her.

If I were honest, I wasn’t only doing this to scare her. I was doing this because she’d scared me. Sixty-nine shouldn’t have been so intimate. I’d done plenty of it over the years. But when I’d had my cock in her mouth with her pussy on mine, it was like she’d sucked out part of my heart and soul, and I’d lost not just physical control, but emotional control, too. For fuck’s sake, I’d called her mine. Thought of myself as hers. I didn’t know where it had come from, but I had to put some distance between us and regain my power, my control.

The beast inside me was pissed. He didn’t like this. He did not want anyone else to see her naked, not even stone statues. He agreed with Tovah. Her naked body was for me alone, no one else. He didn’t want her hurt, either.

Which was why I had to do this. To prove to myself I didn’t care.

I walked away, trying to block out her screaming after me, making sure I was out of sight, before I went to find a place to hide. Not that I cared, but just to be cautious, I’d stay in the shadows, watching to make sure she was safe.

For a while, no one came. I shivered, shirtless, knowing that Tovah was probably freezing. Every part of me wanted to go untie her and carry her away, take her somewhere warm and safe. But I didn’t let myself. This was as much a punishment for me as it was for her. Because it made my chest hurt, knowing how scared and helpless she must be right now. Because I’d been in her position, once: tied outside in punishment, not knowing who might pass by or what they’d do. Knowing that my inner voice was right, and this was not something I’d be able to come back from. She and I had been growing closer, and this would only succeed in pushing her away—for good.

I waited, watching. No one came by, but the seconds ticked by, slowly and torturously. Twice, I’d had to stop myself from going back to her. Untying her. Dropping to my knees and begging for forgiveness.

She must be cold. It was still early spring. What if she got sick?

Finally, eons later—although it was only ten minutes—I decided I’d had enough. I’d proven my point. She knew I didn’t care. And it was time to take her home.

But I heard a voice.

Amalevoice.

“Well, what do we have here? Some dumb little senior prank? Or a gift? Don’t mind if I do,” some asshole said.

“Help!” Tovah screamed below her gag.

“Help,” I’d screamed, tied to the tree and forced to watch as my father held the gun on the young boy whose father had killed my mother. His men jeered at me, and I’d never felt so helpless or ashamed. I couldn’t get free, couldn’t do anything, trapped under rope and my own powerlessness as my father raised the gun.

“Real men shoot,” he said. “Babies watch.”

And then he pulled the trigger, and all there was, was blood.

No.

This was not the man I was. And I wouldn’t put her through the same kind of pain I’d been put through.

Who had I become?

“Help!” she cried again.

It didn’t matter if she was yelling for help from me or from the assholes in front of her or from someone else. I was already running toward at a breakneck pace. I didn’t even take a second to look at the guy who had dared to eventauntmy woman, much less touch her.

I tackled him to the ground, throwing punch after bloody punch, more vicious than I’d ever been on the ice. This guy was my enemy, he’d threatened her, and he was going to fuckingpay.I didn’t see what I was doing, because my vision was in a red haze.

“Don’t.” Punch.

“You.” Punch.

“Ever.” Punch.

“Fucking.” Punch.

“Touch.” Punch.

“Her.”

Someone was screaming.

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