Destined to the Hellhound: BEAST

Chapter 14

Running up the stairs, I strip off the blood-soaked clothes. I can't believe I stabbed him.

I stabbed him. Right in the chest without a second thought. My brain is a battlefield of conflicting emotions. I'm riddled with guilt, then even more guilt by the fact that I don't feel much guilt at all. Until just a few minutes ago, I never would have thought I would be capable of doing that to someone.

I liked it. Deep down, in a place that I'm afraid to even admit to myself, it felt good. My chest tightens up as I think about it. For the first time in my life, I was angry, and I acted on it exactly as I wanted to. I didn't hide it or do what was expected of me. He didn't yell or hurt me, he didn't punish me or shame me. He liked it. The dark, twisty feeling that I've banished to the base of my skull stirs.

Then to add the fact that I'm completely drenched between my legs, where he was just rubbing his body. If he had tried to do more than just rub and whisper filthy words, I wouldn't have even attempted to stop him. He was bleeding all over me from a wound that I caused and something about it made me... so incredibly turned on. I'm still panting.

I think something is very wrong with me.

It's all so confusing.

As I rinse the blood down the drain in yet another freezing shower, I try to convince myself that it was nothing more than a biological response. He's muscular and handsome. The friction of his huge erection was rubbing against me. That's all it was. Nothing more.

He kidnapped me and cut off my wings. Biological responses be damned.

I hate him.

I'm afraid and alone. My body's survival instincts are just kicking in. That's all this is. I don't want him, his touch is revolting, he is a repulsive, depraved torturer, a beast from hell. He's trying to brainwash me against my family.

I'm going to escape tonight. At the first opportunity, I'm running.

The feeling of his hot skin and the warmth of his blood tingle on my skin even as I repeat these things in my head. Just thinking about it now makes me squirm. The way his low, rich voice gets lower, raspier. The memory makes me vibrate.

Stop that! I'm escaping. It doesn't matter that his touch makes my heart burn.

I hate him. Fortifying myself in my hatred and anger, I clean the blood. He said there would be a dress here. What is actually here is more like scraps of a dress, pieces of fabric that might have made a dress if there were more of them.

The deep red fabric is so sheer that I'm more naked than clothed. With the exception of a small ruffle in the fabric that covers the area between my legs, everything is exposed. If I move too quickly, the fabric will shift, and I'll flash anyone who's looking.

The scenarios that play out in my mind only add to my irritation. Is he trying to embarrass me? Does he want me to beg him for something else to wear? Everything that I can think of involves him having the upper hand.

Not today, bud.

Something outside catches my eye. In the distance, something is moving, coming up the gravel toward the house.

Rushing to the window, I watch as two men creep in this direction. If they're trying not to be seen, they're really doing a terrible job. They use the trees as cover as they make their way up the long driveway.

Squinting, I try to get a better look at them. They don't look like they belong down here. They aren't monsters or creatures. I think they're fae.

Pushing on the window, I try to force it open, but it's stuck. Running to the next window, I see it. Or rather, him.