But then I heard chains clink again, and my smile fell. It was a lot of them, and not a little tinkling that comes with a breeze. It was …purposeful.
I opened my mouth, but my voice was barely working. “Hello?”
Boo, I heard Damon that night in my head. I’d known someone was there.
And I knew I wasn’t alone now. There was someone in here.
“Qu…w…” Bile burned my throat, and my mind raced.
It’s not real. It’s just a game.
Except the last time this happened, I said the same thing and I’d been wrong.
I pawed the air in front of me, brushing chains but stilling them to keep from making noise, so I could hear the room.
But it was complete silence.
My pulse thundered in my ears, and sweat cooled my neck as my breath blew a strand of hair hanging in my face that I was too afraid to budge an inch to move.
I could hear him breathing.
I knew he was there.
I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, but instead of uttering the safe word, I drew in a breath, feeling his eyes on me. Every inch of my skin became sensitive and aware of my clothes suddenly chafing my skin. My lacy bra and sweater irritated the points of my breasts, and the skin of my thighs stuck to the leather pants, my belly quaking and heat settling between my legs, making me throb.
My heart filled my throat, and I was so scared, but I…I wanted to yank my sweater down and be rid of it. It was hot, and it was like every hair on my body vibrated. What the hell?
All of a sudden, a gang of chains shook and swooped, there was a loud, deep growl, and someone started charging. I opened my mouth to cry out, but he clenched my neck in his fist and shoved me into the wall, jabbing something into my stomach several times. It didn’t hurt, though. It was probably one of those prop knives that retracted, but the fear of the moment still overtook me, and I screamed as I was thrown down on the ground, landing on something soft.
I didn’t have time to guess what it was before he was on top of me, forcing my arms over my head with one hand. I gasped and opened my mouth to cry out again, but then he shot his knife up to my neck, pressing on the skin as he breathed down on me, and I stopped, aware of the skin of my nipples, burning under the itchy fabric of my sweater and his weight on me. He felt like fire on my skin.
“I’m hungry,” he whispered down on me.
I smelled a wood fire on him, and cinnamon wafted off his breath. I smelled cigarettes, too, but they weren’t like Damon’s.
Music pounded somewhere, shaking the foundation, and I guessed I was lying on a mattress, another creepy prop that I was glad I couldn’t see.
“Give me your tongue,” he growled softly. “I want to eat it.”
I shook my head slowly. Was I taunting him?
Why wasn’t I screaming?
The prop knife left my neck and dug into my side, retracting on impact. I sucked in a breath, the blood there throbbing instantly, but I was safe. I knew I was safe.
And somewhere, deep inside my head where I felt the burn of shame, but no one else could see or read me, I’d missed this. I’d missed my mind racing, my heart trying to jump out of my chest, and someone not handling me like I was a glass ball. Where, in the inch of space between him and me, I reveled in the dirt on my skin and the terror of his words.
Why wasn’t I using the safe word?
The actor’s weight eased off mine as he pulled up a little. “Are you okay?”
His voice was soft now. Normal.
“Yes,” replied.
“You know the safe word, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”