Page 32 of Envy
Silas yanks Mark away from me, tossing him aside without a second thought.
“Was it everything you dreamed of, little fox?” Silas coos, tugging his mask up enough for me to see his eyes. They’re blown wide, devouring every flicker of emotion on my face. Each shameful truth. I swear there’s a flash of tenderness, but it vanishes before I can be sure.
“Yes,” I confess.
Whatever softness might have been there is gone. Silas only nods once and steps back.
“I warned you what would happen if he touched you again.”
My brows furrow, the haze of the orgasm still thick in my mind. I don’t understand what’s happening until he raises the gun and points it directly at Mark.
“And I always keep my promises.”
With no trace of hesitation, Silas pulls the trigger.
19
EVIE
Five liters doesn’t sound that impressive. It’s one and a half large milk containers. Fourteen cans of soda. My high school biology teacher made it sound formidable, though. I didn’t understand why—until tonight.
Crimson sprays the ground as Mark’s lifeless body drops, but it’s the torrent of emotions trapped behind Silas’s vacant gaze that has me leaping from the motorcycle and sprinting for my life.
Clouds roll across the moon, cloaking the rocky canyon in shadow, and it takes all my concentration not to slip on the jagged terrain. I don’t know where I’m going, only that I have to keep moving. Keep running.
A crazed laugh pierces the night behind me, thecrunchof Silas’s boots giving chase pushing me faster. This is my fault—Mark’s death, probably the other guy’s too. I knew Silas was unhinged, could feel the truth of his promise the moment he uttered it.
If he ever touches you again, I’ll kill him.
“Run, little fox,” Silas shouts, his voice growing fainter. Holyfuck, I might actually have a chance of getting away. “It only makes the chase more fun.”
I pump my arms, willing my boots to find purchase as I race downhill, the main road coming into view. And then the motorcycle engine rumbles to life behind me.
A scream rips from my lips as headlights blaze through the darkness. Shit.The valley’s too steep for me to leave the trail, the underbrush too thick. One misstep and I’ll slip down the side of the canyon, tumbling to the rocky shores below.
The beam of light finds me.
Double shit.
I spot a narrow trail veering left and throw myself down it, sprinting for my life. Much too late, I realize what the stretch of black ahead means. This isn’t a secondary path—it’s a look out.
I try to stop and change direction, but I slip. Pebbles give way beneath me, gravel slicing into my thighs as I skid toward the cliff’s edge. The ground goes out beneath my feet, the momentum carrying me forward finally slowing as my body stops moving. Terror propels me into action as I scramble back, clawing at the dirt, dragging myself back from the brink—only to be met with the blinding glare of Silas’s motorcycle.
I stare through the light, chest heaving as he steps off, his helmet clutched in his hand. He lets it fall, stalking forward slowly, as if enjoying my alarm. His gloves are next, each finger peeled free with leisurely precision, the wicked grin tilting his lips suggesting he’s going to enjoy this next part.
Shallow cuts burn along my palms and legs as I start to crawl backward, only to remember there’s nothing but open air and crashing waters behind me. For a split second I contemplate hurling myself over the edge, embracing the razor sharp rocks and angry waves below. Maybe I’d survive. Unlikely. But maybe.
As if hearing my morbid thoughts, Silas pauses, his body coiling like a cobra poised to strike. The black mask is back in place, its haunting green stitching distorted in the harsh light. Imove—only an inch—but that’s all it takes for him to spring forward.
Silas lunges. His fingers close around my throat, halting my escape as he hauls me upright. He towers over me, the scent of leather and spice clinging to him like a storm, and something low in my belly burns. Heat. Want. Terror.
His knee wedges between my thighs, pressing against my exposed core, sending the fire pumping through my veins into overdrive.
“This virgin cunt is mine, Evie.”
My pulse flutters beneath his fingers. But not from fear. I think I must be cursed. Or maybe my soul is just tainted, because Iwanthim—the devil himself. Every nerve in my body is alive, primed and ready for his condemning touch. Silas just murdered a man after forcing him to go down on me, but that malicious glint in his eyes… god help me, it’s intoxicating.
“Mine to taste. Mine to finger and fuck and defile in any way I please.” His other hand ghosts across my breasts, pinching and twisting my nipples through the red fabric as his jeans grind against me. I bit my lip, trying to suppress the rush of sensation, but a whimper breaks free.