Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
The one next to him stood a fraction shorter, leaner in build, his body all definition and taut lines that could be seen through his dark clothing. Dark blond hair falling across his forehead in messy strands. His mask was shaped like a stag’s, dark antlers branching up and back, the gleam of pale blue eyes catching through the cutouts. Twisted mischief lived there, threaded with something sharp enough to cut.
The third towered over them both, broader, heavier, his strength impossible to ignore. His dark brown hair curled at the nape, and deep green eyes nearly vanished to black in the low light. His skull-shaped mask was weathered and cracked.
All three looked wrong—too large, too ominous. Their very presence shifted the air like a tide.
I should have felt cold fear run through my veins. But I didn’t. Blazing heat licked down my body and straight to my throbbing pussy, and my pulse thudded in my ears. Both sounds belonged to them now.
I opened my mouth, but no words came forth. My hands shook, the knife trembling in my grasp.
None of them spoke. They simply watched. Their presence was a weight, and God, it was terrifying but also magnetic. The room felt alive with it. I should have screamed, run… anything, but my body wouldn’t obey. My fear and something else, darker and low, braided together until I couldn’t tell which was which.
The man in the skull mask took a step forward. The other two stayed back. My breath hitched. The air vibrated with a kind of command and dominance I couldn’t name. I wanted to move, but the stillness pinned me harder than being held down by hands ever could.
The Skull stepped closer and then stopped a foot away. The knife slipped from my grip and struck the floor with a dull thud. His voice vibrated low, skating over me though he hadn’t touched me.
“Just breathe,” he said in a voice so deep it had goosebumps moving over my skin.
The world tilted. The edges of the room blurred like spilled ink being washed away with water. Heat crawled up my throat, a fight I couldn’t win. The cabin swayed around me, too bright even through the darkness, too alive even if I felt like I was in a grave. Reality thinned as fear folded inward, turning into something else entirely.
He moved inches forward, and only a hair’s breadth separated our bodies from brushing. I held my hand out. “Don’t,” I whispered, though I didn’t know who I was talking to. He didn’t touch me. He didn’t have to. His presence was a weightless press, the precision of someone who knows he holds a hell of a lot of power.
When he spoke again, the deepness of his voice was like gravity weighing me down and quiet enough to thread through the electrified air that filled the room.
“You wrote us here, Gwen,” he whispered, so close I felt his body heat seep into me. “And we’ve come to give you what you want.”
4
The world outside was a howling, white void, but inside the cabin, the only thing screaming was my body.
I retreated several steps until my back hit the rustic wooden wall, grain biting into my shoulders. The three figures closed in, their masks gleaming in the low firelight.
I didn’t know their names, knew nothing about them but the fact that they were all terrifying, and they turned me on like nothing else ever had.
The Stag was before me first, his antlers casting jagged shadows on the ceiling. The Skull stood to my right, a hollow-eyed promise of oblivion. And to my left, The Black Mask, with this cold and apathetic demeanor, had my body feeling terror, anxiety, but most of all… arousal.
“Scared little thing,” The Stag murmured, his voice a low, muffled rumble that vibrated deep into my bones. A thick, leather-gloved hand came up to cup my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “Did you really think you could fight us? Fight this?”
I shook my head but didn’t know what I was trying to deny. In reality, it was a pathetic jerk of movement. My heart was a wild drum against my ribs. This was wrong. I should be fighting, screaming for help that would never come. But my limbs felt heavy, like liquid. The fear was a potent drug, but swirling beneath it was something darker and headier. It was a thrilling current of anticipation I was too ashamed to name.
The Skull’s fingers, which were surprisingly bare and warm, trailed down my arm. “Look at her,” he murmured to his accomplices. “Poor little thing is shaking. Like a tiny, pretty bird in a cage.” His fingers lowered until I felt his touch dip to the collar of my sweater, and with a sharp tug, he ripped it open.
I gasped and instantly reached for the two halves, trying to pull them together. I was braless, and the cold air hit my breasts, my nipples hardening into tight, sensitive peaks instantly. I gasped again, the sound swallowed by the storm.