Page 82

“Then it can wait. I’m going home.” I turn, taking one step before his voice reaches me again.

“I won’t let you go to him. Your home is with me.” He takes another step forward, and I swallow as I take another step back. Cain’s eyes move over me, lingering on my wrist—on my bracelet.

“Cain… I’m required to go.” I hold my breath and motion to turn.

“Violet… You know what I’ll do if you turn your back to me... You sure you want to send that invitation?”

My breath stutters, my fingers trembling at my side. There’s no doubt what he will do when I turn to leave.

He will chase me.

He will catch me.

He will fuck me.

And then we will talk…

The chance for talking might not be passed. I could go with him now instead of running and trying to escape our sadistic game. The thing is…

I want to send the invitation.

I swallow, biting my lip as the corners of my lips lift to a smile. His eyes brighten, his lip twitching up at the side. Then a tap, as he touches his metal leg to the floor.

He’s handicapped; I might actually get away this time… Although the look in his eyes says otherwise. His gaze runs over me, his eyes in almost a smile as he takes another slow step forward.

I turn and bolt.

Rounding the corner to the hall alcove, I slap my hand over the Manhattan entrance to the hidden passageways. The panel swings me around, and I take off into the darkness. It’s been months, but I still run through Cain’s lessons in my head every week. I can do this.

Only seconds pass before I hear the panel swing again and Cain’s footsteps thud along behind me. The metal thud echoes in the passage like my personal countdown. He’s fast for only being a couple of months post-amputation…

One… Two… Three… Four… Five paces, and I grab hold of the rail right on time. My fingers grip the wood a little too tightly as I fly down the steps to the first-floor passage.

I make it to the bottom by the time I hear Cain at the top. He’s taking the stairs more cautiously. I run at full speed: right turn, fifteen paces, left turn. I flatten myself against the wall around the corner, focusing on my breath. My heart pulses in my ears as I try to catch my breath.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Cain’s strides send my heart jumping with each thud. He’s close. Keeping myself flat to the wall, I slow my breathing, bringing myself to a state of silence. He’s walking, a few steps away. Once he passes, I can turn back and take the Seattle exit and head straight to Dean’s.

But I want him to catch me…

Cain walks past me one, two, three steps. Then he… Stops? No, he backs up. I freeze, I can’t see him, but he’s right in front of me. My heart jumps when he gives the tip of his metal foot a few taps on the floor.

WHAM!

His hands slap on the wall on either side of my head, and he leans down. “I’ve spent my entire life finding ways to be close to you. You think I don’t know what you smell like?” He takes a deep inhale around my face, then drops, brushes his lips over the shell of my ear, “Fucking flowers in the rain.” He bites down where his lips brushed, and a zap shoots straight down my spine.

I push him back, then rise and catch his lips with mine, “You still have to catch me.” I duck under his arm and take off toward the exit. He lets out a loud, full laugh, and the sound is so beautiful. I smile, laughing as I make the final stretch. My heart jumps into my throat when I hear Cain’s steps sprint towards me. “Ah!” My head burns as Cain clutches a fistful of my hair by the root.

“Caught you.” He throws me back against the wall, and I let out a whimper. That hurt more than usual. He shoves his knee between my legs, pressing his body against mine. He’s already hard, and his knee isn’t helping—or is helping—the throbbing between my legs. Cain’s lips slam into mine as he lifts me off the ground, and I hook my legs around his hips.

“Cain.” Kiss. “You.” Lick. “Shouldn’t.” I get out in between his attacks on my flesh.

“Give me one good reason,” he growls out as he drags my lower lip between his teeth.

“Your leg…”

Cain chuckles, his lips smiling against mine. He rocks his hips forward again, and I moan. The pressure is too good. It must be the hormones… He’s barely touched me, and I’m ready to come apart.