Page 33 of Ravens
Pushing his hood down, he smiles, and I pull the trigger. The bullet intentionally goes over the top of his head into a tree. He ducks instinctively at the sound. I close the distance with the gun still raised.
“You got your warning shot,” I say with my teeth gritted. “Now I’ve had mine.”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffs and disarms me, pointing the gun at my head. “You aren’t the challenge you think you are.”
I swipe the knife up, catching the underside of his extended arm as I dodge the gun to the side and press the blade into his throat wordlessly, chest heaving as I try to reconcile whether this moment will be the one where I become a killer myself.
“Relax,” York says softly, coming up beside me and putting his hand over mine on the knife. “That’s enough.”
I shove him off with my bad shoulder, keeping the pain from my face as my eyes bore into August’s. The stupid grin on his face makes me want to bury the knife in him even more.
York grabs my hand again, this time firmly, and then I’m grabbed by the waist and pulled back. I kick out, nailing August in the gut as I’m wrestled back. He folds forward with a groan, and I struggle until my feet hit the ground again. I’m released. Spinning on my heel, I look up to find William, stone-faced, before he turns and moves back to the fire.
“Fuck!” I shout in frustration.
Heart racing, skin slick with sweat, and the urge to murder coursing through me, I stalk over to the tent and climb in, yanking the zipper closed before pulling my knees to my chest and rocking myself back and forth.
Seventeen
Iwatch the zipper move, my eyes track it all the way around until the flap falls open, and my attention flicks to York, who climbs in with my jacket in his fist and stretches out on his back. My eyes flick back to the open flap. The smoke clinging to his sweater scents the air as he pulls it off and drops it at his side, beside my now ripped jacket.
Something bumps into my hip, and I look down, finding my gun. The weight of it tells me it isn’t loaded anymore, but I check anyway and then put it down. It won’t be hard to find bullets.
He sits up and closes the flap, the light from the fire becoming a soft glow inside the tent, illuminating his legs but leaving the back of the tent and his upper body in shadow as he lies back down.
“Get some sleep,” he mutters.
“Can’t.”
“Why?”
“Plotting a murder.”
He exhales. “Get over it.”
I turn to look at his shadowed face. “Make me,” I whisper.
When he grabs my arm, I fight him, slapping at his hands and pushing him away until he wrangles me down on my side, pulling my back into his chest and holding me there while my deep breaths fill the silence.
“Make you? Is that a euphemism?” I don’t say anything. “With prying ears and no privacy?”
“Yes.”
“But I can’t do all the things you deserve here . . . and youdodeserve some things, Theresa,” he whispers in my ear and then lets out a controlled breath as he grabs my ponytail, tugging it back. “Do you die a little hating me while wanting me so much?”
“Yes.”
“It kills me too.” His lips graze my cheek. “Because I want you to be mine. I want to spank you until you moan and tie you up properly every time you step out of line.” His hand slides up under my shirt. “I want to bend you over so many more pieces of furniture and fuck you like it’s a punishment because it is . . . because you never should have allowed yourself to be locked in a room with me to begin with.”
My jeans open slowly, and his hand delves down into my panties as he releases my ponytail and wraps his hand aroundmy mouth instead. Fingers plunge into me, and I inhale sharply through my nose as I bow gently away from him.
“And there is something about knowing you hate me, knowing that I make you wet despite it, and how scared you are most of the time that drives me fucking insane.” My hips drive up into his pumping hand until I’m seeing stars. “I love that you want it anyway, I love that you’re just as fucking crazy as the rest of us.” My eyes squeeze shut as the orgasm mounts and my thighs quiver. “Sometimes, I almost like that you’re hiding from me. I like the challenge.”
It explodes, and my cry is stifled by his hand as I reach between my legs and hold him there, riding his fingers while his tongue slides along my jaw. The feeling overwhelms my senses, and his hand clamps down harder on my mouth, pinning my head to his shoulder.
My hips stop as the orgasm ebbs, and his hands slip away from me as I pant. It’s not enough. I fumble behind me for his pants and manage to get his button undone before pushing my jeans down over my hips and pressing back into him.
“Say it,” he whispers and tugs my shirt off. “I want you to fucking say it.”
