Page 65 of That Sik Luv

“Don’t worry, baby,” he coos in a deep raspy tone, his hand finding my upper thigh. Fingers slide beneath the hem of the uniform that screams innocent, squeezing into my milky white flesh with the black leather of his glove. “I’ll pray for you,” he finishes in a mocking tone before his smile widens towards the gravel road, and the sharp points of his canines shine in their delightful terror.

I grip onto his ring finger from my lap and bend it sideways as hard as I can beneath his glove, hearing a crack or some popping noise as I do it.

“Fuck!” he curses out, quickly pulling his hand from my lap while carefully pulling the glove off. He raises the hand before his glowing eyes, viewing the finger that’s now bent at an entirely unnatural angle, surely broken at the tip.

He chuckles to himself. “You dirty bitch,” he curses, staring at his finger with a hauntingly beautiful smile.

It’s strange. His enjoyment of the pain I inflict upon him. I take the opportunity to slide my hand to my seat belt buckle, but his eyes peer over at me immediately.

“Don’t,” he commands harshly. “Don’t even think—“

Before he can finish his sentence, I unfasten my seat belt, unlock the door, and open the passenger door.

The gravel digs into my side as I hit the ground with a thud, rolling to a stop. I’ve knocked the wind from my chest, and the fall will surely bruise my ribs. The Jeep swerves to an abrupt stop, kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake.

Pushing up off the ground, I take off into the woods nearby, sprinting as fast as my torn-up little legs will take me. Where I’m going, I don’t have a clue. I could tell you I’m terrified of this man, but the truth of the matter is the blood running through my veins runs feral for him.

I’m not running from Aero. I’d never get far. I know he’ll never stop. He’s relentless in his mission to make me his, and secretly, I admire it. His peculiar obsession has begun my own.

I’m running from the idea of myself. The old, naïve, shriveled bud of Briony, in search of her truth. The girl who became a woman by the man who pushed her in all the ways she never thought she wanted.

Chapter thirty-three

Obliterating Souls

Shebrokemyfuckingfinger, and the blood instantly rushed to my groin.

As if that’s abnormal. I’ve practically remained hard since I began studying her. Watching, waiting, and finally striking... I can’t unsee it. I can’t unfeel it. She has a unique aroma that I need permanently fixated on my tongue. I crave it like Christians crave the blood of Christ. It’s healing. It’s redeeming. I’d gladly lap her up, swallowing all that is Briony to atone for any sins I’ve committed in this life and the next.

My feisty little bitch enjoys bringing me pain, and it’s entirely unfortunate for her that her little outbursts only trigger me further. I quickly reset the finger before rounding the vehicle in search of her.

She runs like she wants me to catch her. As if the idea of me hunting her brings out the primal animal beneath her being. That animalistic rush in which our fight or flight response is so archaically produced.

Through the thick brush of the woods, she attempts to bring distance between us, looking back as her hair hits her in the face. Tripping over her feet, she stumbles when her ankles get tripped up in some brush. Falling on her side, her skirt flips up her thigh, exposing the edge of her creamy, innocent flesh.

My lip curls up as I take a few more long strides to get to her, the chase causing my blood to boil with lust and insatiable excitement, my heart thundering in anticipation of my kill.

Her chest is heaving beneath her white button-up blouse, her breasts not visible enough for my liking. A muscle twitches in my neck as I envision all the nasty shit I’m about to do to this little doll when I catch her.

I could easily outrun her, but watching her stumble and fall before me, looking over her shoulder with pure and utter terror emitting from those angelic eyes, is far more thrilling.

Her hand skims the bark of a nearby tree, and I send a knife to it. Rotating past her head, it spears into the wood, sending splinters from the direct hit. She grips the side of her head where it whirled past her hair, before turning back to look at me, her eyes narrowed with disgust and disbelief.

I send another one to the same tree on the other side of her head. She screams in horror as it hits closer to her ear than the last, her muscles locking up as her spine stiffens, facing the assaulted bark. I stomp over the remaining brush, beginning to close the distance between us.

Her lungs expand and contract at the most rapid rate as she stares blankly at the tree.

“Done running, little doll?” I ask as I pull another knife from the bag across my chest. I hurl it into the tree directly above her head and she tenses up, knives outlining her silhouette.

She grips the handle of a knife stuck in the bark, effectively pulling it from the tree before taking off again. But I’m done with the hunt, and ready to devour my delicacy out in the intimate confines of my woods surrounding us.

Catching up to her quickly, I tackle her frame to the ground, using my body weight to hold her flailing body to the earth beneath her. Dirt kicks up as she claws at the sticks and dead grass near her, attempting to escape. The knife is now just out of reach.

She thinks she’s ready, but loses handling on her knife? She’s not even close. Nowhere close enough to where I need her to be.

I push my hips into the curve of her sweet, round ass, gripping the hair at her nape to hold her head up. She pants in horror, but I know by the look in her dilated pupils that this is arousing her far more than she’s willing to accept.

“Oh, sweet Briony,” I whisper, pulling her head back further. “I’ve been dreaming of the day I’d get to fuck that pretty face into the dirt.”

---