Hunt

“Then, you entered my life and now I can see the beauty in each day where I couldn’t see it before. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

“Cain. . .”

“With you, there may be hope for me.”

My hands shook.

“And now. . .even I can admit. . .that. . .there may be a God. Perhaps, he’s simply different from what I thought. He may not be a man sitting in the sky. Maybe, he’s more.”

“I’m glad that things are working out for you.” I pointed the tip of the knife at him. “But, please, don’t do this. Don’t take me.”

“I’m really glad you grabbed that knife.” Desire filled his eyes. “We’re going to need that for this next discussion.”

“N-no.”

“I have a few points to make.”

My heartbeats sped up. I moved away faster, going deeper into my bedroom. “No. No. No. You’re not cutting me again. Never. Ever.”

“It’ll be quick.”

“You’re not cutting me.” I searched frantically in the bedroom for an escape. “I won’t let you.”

“You will.” He stepped forward.

“Don’t you even—”

“You have no choice.”

“Please, don’t”

“Plus, I just have to make some things clear.”

“But—”

Then, Cain charged for me.

Chapter 9

A Necessary Discussion

CAIN

T

here would be no escape from me.

The sooner Phoenix understood that, the better. The longer I was away from her, the worse I got. I wanted to touch her the way I had before. I wanted to hold her.

So, I charged for her.

Phoenix rushed off.

I chased her to the other side of the bedroom. The fork fell from her hand.

I lunged.

Shrieking, she sidestepped and twisted away.

Fast, I rushed to the other side.

She dipped around, but I was closing in on her in the space, getting her nearer to the corner. Screaming, she wildly swung her arms.

“No!” Her back hit the wall. She tried to stab me.

I grabbed the hand holding the knife.

She fought to get away, slapping me over and over with the spatula.

“Ah!” My forehead stung in pain.

That isn’t a bad weapon.

“Get away from me!” The spatula smacked my eye.

I closed the lid and bit through the pain.

She hit my ear with the spatula next.

Damn it!

Trying to avoid the spatula as much as I could, I pushed her further against the wall. Unrelentless, she smacked me over and over like a bad kid needing to be disciplined. The damn thing stung and burned my skin with each smack of plastic against my skin.

“Argh!” I gripped her hand with the spatula.

She tried to stab me in the neck.

“Fuck!” I caught the hand holding the knife and twisted it so that she would let go. “Give it up, Phoenix.”

“No!” She kicked my legs.

My shins ached. “Come on.”

“Fuck you!” She strained and groaned through the struggle, kicking and shoving up against me. Seconds later, she accidentally let it go. The knife clanked against the wall and then fell to the floor. Yet, no defeat filled her eyes.

She kneed me next, getting me good in the crotch.

Dear God!

Not letting her go, I grunted through the pain.

She was slapping me with the spatula again and kicking and twisting her body and jumping and constantly moving. It was almost fucking impossible to hold her.

Shit!

But I trapped her against the wall, letting Phoenix tire herself out.

“No!” She struggled and fought to break free. Her chest heaved. Sweat glistened on her forehead.

Come on. Aren’t you exhausted?

Somehow, I made her drop the spatula, but I couldn’t say how. Maybe, it was pure luck. Perhaps, she was drained of energy.

So close.

With the one hand free, she pulled back and swung, punching me right in the jaw.

Smack.

Pain echoed through to my ear drums. Blinking through it, I grabbed that hand and now had both against the wall and above her head.

My head ached, but victory was mine.

Breathing hard, she looked up at me in defeat. “Please. . .”

“I can’t.” Exhausted, I gathered her wrists together and held them with one hand. With the other, I pulled out the handcuffs from my back pocket.

“Cain, if you really care about me—”

“It’s more than care—”

“But, if you do then you won’t hurt me—”

“I won’t hurt you. It’ll always be pleasure.” I clamped the handcuffs on her wrists. Now it was easier to keep them secure with one hand.

Her eyes watered. “But it’ll be pain too.”

“The best sort of pain.”

She gazed down at the ground. “There is no best sort of pain.”

With my free hand, I touched her chin and returned her view to me. “In the soul coffin, I remember making you moan more than making you cry.”

Her expression shifted to an odd mix of anger and lust.

“Now. . .” I slipped my hand down her neck.

She trembled.

I moved my fingers down to the V-neck collar of her pajama top. “Well, now I want to explore the other ways I can make you moan.”

Her cheeks flushed. She averted her eyes.