Page 94 of Unravelling The Beast

As his deep words come out, I glance at his lips, which I want to kiss.

"And what do I get in return if I win?"

He ponders for a moment before responding calmly while elevating his chin.

"What do you desire?"

I consider it for a moment before saying what I feel.

"I want you to make love to me."

As his eyes bore into mine and his jaw tenses, I can see it's something he doesn't want to do, of course, but I stay firm because I want to push the boundaries for some reason.

It's not even that I am craving for him to fuck me softly; I do, in a strange way, actually enjoy his perverted ways, but what I want is for him to feel something in that unhappy soul of his for once.

How depressing it must be in one's mind to not want to accept nothing in your heart but hate, aggression and darkness on a daily basis.

He inhales a deep breath and turns his face away.

"Very well."

When his cold eyes find mine again, he gives another heat movement toward the open door.

"Tick fucking tock."

Before getting out of the car, I smile with an eye roll and the strong rain floods down on me, soaking me instantaneously. I cast one last glance over my shoulder in his direction, and his eyes are filled with dark desire, as if he is fully prepared for this.

I draw a shaky breath before staring at the huge, gloomy woods in front of me and sprinting towards them.

My heart pounds against my chest as I enter and the strong smell of damp forest floods my nostrils. I attempt to ignore the reality that I'm practically in the pitch black and that there could be wild animals in here willing to kill and eat me.

I continue to speed ahead as fast as my aching legs will allow, slipping and falling into the slushy mud now and then until I can't physically go on any longer.

I'm still in the driver's seat of my Lamborghini, with one leg hanging outside and the rain soaks through my clothes. I glance down at the silver Rolex on my wrist, keeping a close eye on the seconds as they pass, and think about the possibility that Wren might just be as mentally fucked as I am.

I shouldn't like it; she should be a weak little cunt, but I do. I really fucking do. I enjoy her playing my sick and twisted games with me, but she forgets that making love to her is something I simply cannot do, so I intend to give her absolutely no chance of winning this shit tonight.

It threw me the fuck off when she said that. I'm not in this for love. I have no intention of ever falling in love again; I am incapable of giving affection, so why would I offer her false hope? I'm pretty certain I haven't given her any reason to think differently about me.

Wren is simply my fuck toy; my sick obsession; the woman I can’t stay away from; the light that blinds my darkness for a while; the one I can let loose on and screw the hell out of. She has lured me in through no fault of my own, and I am now fully exploiting the fact that she will allow me to take whatever the fuck I want from her and enjoy it.

After one minute has passed, I reach behind my seat and pull out a thick rope, a pair of black leather gloves, and a black balaclava. I toss them on the seat beside me before lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. As I bite it, I pull my suit jacket down my arms, roll up my sleeves, and unbutton my shirt halfway down before flicking the cigarette out into the rain.

I take what I need from the seat before calmly exiting my car and closing the doors. The cold, heavy rain drops drench me instantly, causing my shirt to stick to my hot skin, and I relish the sensation of it pelting down on me as I roll my shoulders and tense neck.

I press my hands into the leather gloves before sliding the balaclava over my face and down. When I am ready to go, I sling the rope over my shoulder and creep my way toward the somber forest.

When I stroll in, it's dark, but the sky is still bright from the full moon that is attempting to fight its way through the black clouds, so I can still somewhat see around me.

As I take my time moving ahead, I listen for anything other than the torrential rain bombarding the trees above me. I gaze down at the sludgy, wet ground for any hints as to which way she might've run.

After some time, I finally spot a trail of muddy footprints and I start following them with a malicious smirk on my lips.

I continue until I am fairly deep into the woods when the trail suddenly comes to a stop and fades off to the left on a grassy spot. I glance around, trying to figure out which way she could have gone.

I take slow, deliberate steps ahead in the direction I believe she might have gone. My training instincts are heightened, eager to find her, and I peer around damp tree trunks as I pass them.

Treading carefully, I attempt not to make a sound, but when I hear a branch crack behind me, I spin around swiftly. I wait, my eyes scanning the vast area, before I take a step forward in the direction of the sound, lifting my nose and sniffing the cold, damp air.

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