Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“Abigail!” He roars my name from the center of the maze, and I know I’m out of time.
I duck down an opening to my right, winding my way deeper into the maze. I take turn after sharp turn, until I’m dizzy and my breath burns my lungs. He can clearly hear the jingling of the traitorous bells, but I think my path has been erratic enough to confuse him.
For a while, at least.
I slow down and struggle to breathe as shallowly as possible so that the bells won’t jangle. My steps are light and careful, and I manage to take another turn without making a sound.
I’m not sure how long I manage to keep quiet before he calls out for me again.
“I know you’re nearby, Abigail. Such a clever little pet. You’re lost, but I’ll find you.”
He says the last like a mercy.
His voice is far too close. I have no choice: I have to start running again.
He barks a laugh when the bells chime, and a mix of defiant rage and desire heats my flushed cheeks.
His arrogance is galling, but my body craves him.
I deny my base, carnal needs and increase my speed, rounding another corner. Seconds later, I cry out before I can stop myself.
I’ve hit a dead end. And I can hear his heavy footfalls pounding closer.
I whirl, and his massive, shadowy form is barreling towards me, cutting off my exit. I scramble back, but I collide with the hedge. Branches prickle my bare skin, scratching my sensitized flesh like a sharp caress.
He slows as he closes in, and his white teeth flash in a feral smile through the darkness.
“Little dove,” he coos. “Are you trapped?”
“Don’t touch me,” I snap, pressing myself deeper into the hedge.
“Poor little pet. All alone out here. So lost and afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” I lie. Fear thrills through me in a tingling wave, setting all of my senses on high alert.
“You don’t have to pretend with me.” He says it like a reassurance that’s belied by his mocking tone.
He’s right in front of me, his massive body blocking any hope of escape.
“You seem to be caught in a snare. Let me help you.”
He moves lighting fast, grasping my shoulders and tearing me away from the hedge. He tackles me to the ground, angling us so that his body takes the impact.
Then he rolls atop me, forcing me onto my front. The clamps bite into my nipples. With my hands bound behind me, there’s nothing I can do but kick and scream.
My defiant shriek dies in my throat when I catch the glint of the blade out of the corner of my eye.
“Dane!” True, potent terror claws at my insides.
I crane my neck back so that I can keep the wickedly sharp hunting knife in my line of sight.
The last time he held a blade to my throat, he was the masked man. He terrorized me and violated me.
He’s wearing a different skull mask now. The image of my alluring demon morphs into a horrific, macabre memory.
He strokes the length of my spine with his free hand and shushes me gently. The knife is nowhere near my skin; he’s holding it at least two feet away from me, and it’s pointed outward, not toward me.
“I took this fantasy from you,” he rumbles. “I want to give it back.”
My chest convulses on a shuddering breath. Terror still rides me hard, but his words touch something deep inside me.
He wants my consent. I could stop him right now if I wanted to.
But I don’t speak. I don’t use my safe word.
I want to take ownership of this fantasy, too.
I close my eyes briefly and breathe through the worst of the clawing horror, until it subsides into fizzy, thrilling fear once again. I allow myself to sink into the giddy sensation, like I’m riding a rollercoaster.
I’m safe with Dane.
“Good girl,” he praises. “So brave for me.”
My eyes flutter open, and the blade glints in the moonlight as he slowly moves it closer to my body. When I don’t scream or cringe away, he grasps my wrists with his other hand. The rope tugs slightly as he slips the knife through the knot.
I go utterly still.
“Be careful, little dove,” he warns gently. “I don’t want to accidentally clip your wings.”
The blade slices upward, away from my body. The rope falls from my wrists, but I don’t dare to move. I’m hardly breathing, and I’m becoming lightheaded from lack of oxygen.
He shifts behind me, and I’m on my back.
The knife is still in his hand, and this time, the tip is pointed at my chest.
“Dane…” His name is little more than a pleading whisper.
“Master,” he corrects me. “You’re mine, Abigail. It’s time you remembered what that means.”
The knife flicks beneath the leather cord that connects the nipple clamps. The bells jingle softly as he slowly draws it upward on the flat of the blade.