Page 48 of Betraying Family Vows
To hear him call me that stupid nickname, Alepoudítsa.
I'll make like a little fox and run now.
I push away from the wall and keep moving, faster now. Away from these thoughts. Away from him.
My heart pounds in my chest for all the wrong reasons, but I keep moving. And then, I hear it.
A rock rolls on the ground behind me.
I gasp and spin to look. I trip over a something, and just as I'm about to hit the ground, he's there, catching me before I fall.
"Found you," he growls, his grip tight as he pushes me up against a stone wall.
He shifts, and one arm cages my throat. His body presses into mine, all heat and hard muscle.
"You think I wouldn't notice?" he says, his voice low and close to my ear.
He's towering over me, his body blocking out the moonlight. His eyes fierce in the darkness. Predatory.
I should move, try to get away, run. But my legs won't cooperate. Something hot coils in my stomach.
I gasp as I feel the cold kiss of metal against my throat. His knife. The blade presses just enough to make me very aware of its presence without breaking skin.
"Did you really think you could get away from me?" His voice is rough. His face is so close I can feel his breath on my cheek. "Did you think even if I said you could go, that I wouldn't come for you?"
I try to form words, but nothing comes out. My body betrays me, responding to his proximity in ways that I can't stop.
I'm cold and on fire at the same time.
"You know what I think?" he asks, trailing the knife down my throat, running it along my collarbone. "I think you ran because you wanted me to catch you."
I can't speak, so I shake my head, but the denial feels unreal.
"Tell me I'm wrong." His eyes bore into mine, searching, challenging. The knife continues its journey downward, tracing the outline of my breast through my sweatshirt. "Tell me to stop."
My heart pounds. My thighs clench as the blade moves lower and lower.
God, I hate him.
God, I want him.
"Tell me to stop, Athena," he repeats, his voice softer now. "Say the word, and I'll back away. We'll pretend this never happened."
I glare at him. I can't deny it, damn it, but the last of my delusional restraint, my pretending to fight, surfaces and the words flow out, "Fuck you."
He presses into me, hips pinning me to the stone.
"That's exactly what I intend to do, Alepoudítsa."
And then, without warning, his mouth crashes onto mine, fierce and consuming.
I moan, the sound ripped from me like it had been patiently waiting for his touch.
His hands tear at my clothes, rough and fast. He's yanking the sweatshirt over my head before I can even register what's going on.
His mouth trails down my throat, teeth grazing between licks of his tongue.
He brings the knife up and slices clean through my sweatpants waistband. They fall, pooling at my ankles.
