Page 21 of Grave Possession (Grave #2)

Chapter Sixteen

Mallory

“ G et up.” His voice has a lethal edge to it as I scramble up from the mattress.

My entire body flares in agony but I keep the cries caged behind my teeth.

If I clench them any tighter, I’m sure they will crack.

My captor’s emotions have been flipping quick as a light switch since he returned the other day, and he’s been especially brutal.

One of my eyes is swollen shut, and I have a pretty serious limp from his work boots connecting with my knee.

I don’t know if he’s devolving or close to being caught, but what I do know is that I can’t take much more of this.

“We’re going for a run.” He encroaches on my space, grabbing the collar around my neck and hauling my body against his.

He undoes the lock, removing it from the hole that secures the shackle in place.

It opens, and he lets it fall, unbothered if it gets damaged as it connects with the hard ground.

His eyes are too focused on the marks littered across my body, and painted around my throat .

“A run? I can barely walk,” I say as meekly as possible, but it still comes out sounding snarky.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls against my ear. “You better run, or I’ll put you down like a racehorse with a broken leg.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going.” I hobble my ass across the room, looking at the stairs that have no railing for me to lean on.

I have no idea how I’ll manage the short incline without falling.

Do I crawl? My knee won’t take the pressure, I know it.

Glancing back at my kidnapper, he huffs out his annoyance.

I need to figure out what happened while he was gone that’s resulted in this erratic behaviour.

Maybe I can play a caring role. Would it get him to open up?

Could I diffuse the ticking time bomb he’s become?

Not only can I see the downward spiral in his behaviour, but it’s changed the atmosphere around us.

The air is thick with negative energy, charged with something that brings goosebumps to my skin throughout the day, even when he isn’t here.

“I’m not going to make it up these stairs without some help.” I’m already out of breath from the small trek across the room, there’s no way I’m going to be able to fulfill his needs once we get outside.

“Can you help me…please?” I ask, watching his snarl turn to shock as I extend my hand.

I bet no one has ever willingly wanted his touch before.

Hopefully this small gesture moves things more in my favour.

“Come on, I’m begging here,” I chuff out a fake laugh, wincing as I stand unsteadily.

“It hurts like hell to move.” He looks like a deer in the headlights, frozen in place by my gesture.

The throb in my body intensifies as I stand there, shoulder re pelling against the movement of waving him over to me.

Finally, his brain rattles to life and he’s moving toward me, slipping his right hand into mine, and banding his left arm around my back to support me.

I have to weigh next to nothing now, the sandwich was the last thing I ate with any real sustenance.

The clothes he gave me after the shower, a light pink tank top and tiny, black shorts with ‘juicy’ scrawled across the ass in bedazzled lettering, are dirty and blood-stained, but at least they fit.

I resist the urge to tense up and recoil away from his touch.

If I ever hope to live through this fucked up situation, I need to bring our forming bond to the forefront of his mind.

He steadies me as I take the first step up, wobbling on my bad leg.

His grip on me tightens, ensuring I don’t crumple, and I can’t help but think that this isn’t how he should be reacting.

He should want to inflict pain, inject so much terror into my veins that he could feast on it. Instead, he’s helping me.

Does his obsession run deeper than before?

Has it changed since he got his hands on me?

Yes, he said he wants to keep me, but he also yearns for me to want this—him.

He took me by force before, still giving in to his sadistic needs.

However, I’m not completely blind to the fact that I’ve probably outlived most of his victims. He told me I’m perfect, and I can’t imagine he’s said that before.

We slowly ascend the staircase towards fresh air while my mind runs a mile a minute.

By the time we reach the top, I’ve concluded that I’m the one with all the power.

He’s obsessed with me. He thinks I’m his equal.

He craves a fucked up partner in crime, and I’m going to give him exactly what he wants.

I’ll be whatever he needs, do whatever sick shit he desires, to get back home to Ghost.

“Can you stand?” he asks, startling me from my swirling thoughts. Let the games begin.

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you for helping me.” We cross the threshold, and I bask in the feeling of the cool grass beneath my bare feet.

The fresh air blows across my battered skin, and the warmth of the sun’s rays chase away my incessant chill.

I look into his eyes that would actually be quite pretty if there wasn’t so much evil swimming within the depths of them.

He seems reluctant to remove his hands from my body, and I already feel like I’ve got one up on him.

How many more times do I have to fake a wanted touch to have him eating out of the palm of my hand?

His fingers trail across my back before they fall away from me.

“Which way should I go?” I ask, waiting for him to tell me to run.

“Surprise me,” he gets out after clearing his throat. I can’t help but notice his glossy eyes. What’s that about? Is the big, bad sadist really just a touch-starved baby? This will be so fucking easy.

I take two steps, and my knee gives out. I collapse, falling into him, and he catches me. Checkmate.

“Okay, maybe you can’t run today,” he says. Something like compassion mixes with his words, and I think I must have more brain damage than I anticipated.

“I can try again. Please… don’t be mad,” I plead, infusing the fear he wants into my voice.

“Even if you tried, it wouldn’t be much of a hunt,” he huffs, still clinging to me. He likes my fire, my messed up desires, and my incessant need to keep fighting.

“And whose fault is that?” I jest. His eyes narrow and I stare him down.

He diverts his gaze first, surrendering to the alpha.

His line of sight drags down my body, stalling on my swollen knee, the dark purple colour stark against my ghostly skin.

His eyes linger longer than they should, and I wonder if he’s reliving the memory of stomping on me when I was down, kicking me relentlessly until I finally broke and screamed in agony for him.

I remain still, not wanting to break our physical connection. The contact seems to be keeping the more humane side of him at the forefront. But, when his eyes finally return to mine, the evil is back, bright and beaming in those cerulean irises.

“I ran into Officer Graves the night before last.” That could easily explain his overly abusive behaviour. I’m the object of Lennox’s affection and he fucking hates him. What do I say? Stay indifferent, Mallory.

“Well, you work together, so it would be weird if you didn’t see each other,” I return. I want to know where he’s going with this. What happened? He pulls me closer, tightly wrapping his arms around my waist, it feels as though every inch of us is touching. Stay. Fucking. Calm.

“ He’s under the impression you two are no longer together,” he says, nuzzling into my hair and breathing deep.

What the fuck? He’s really not looking for me?

That’s impossible. Victoria would never allow that.

She would search for me, with or without Nox’s help…

I think. It’s a lie, it has to be. However, I’ve already sewn the seeds of doubt so well while being locked in the cellar, I don’t know what to believe anymore.

“That would be a good assumption since he isn’t even worried about me, and I’ve been gone for over a week and a half,” I spit, my reply dripping with venom.

“Oh, bitter about that, are ya, darlin’?” he purrs, pushing the hair back from my face, and running his tongue up my neck to suck on my ear lobe.

“I’d be stupid not to be.”

“Want to get back at him?” he whispers.

My mind screams ‘no’ but my lips pant a breathy “Yes.”

I know I shouldn’t do this. It’s all going to blow up in my face when he notices I’m as dry as a farmer’s field in the midst of a drought. How does one get wet while repulsed beyond all comprehension? “How do you suppose we do that?”

“Stroke me, darlin’.” His breath is moist against my flesh and it makes my skin crawl.

Fake it, Mallory. Porn stars do it, so can you.

I drag my nails lightly down his abdomen then move to rub him over his khaki trousers, the pathetic cock between his legs already stiff as he thrusts against my hand.

This will be over before I know it, he’s never been touched without a fight before.

His hot breath fans across my clavicle, blowing up into my nostrils.

The smell is repulsive and I have to suppress a cough.

He tightens his grip around my middle, walking me backwards until the wooden siding of the cabin meets my shoulders.

It’s old, weathered, and abrasive, scratching my skin.

His hips gyrate as I grasp his few inches of length over the fabric.

Cold, smooth hands worm their way under the shirt I’m sure belonged to a previous woman, and I ignore the urge to flee.

Instead, I moan. Luring him further into my web of deceit.

He cups my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers.

It does nothing for me, but peaks because of the stimulation.

His sound of appreciation makes me nervous. I don’t want him inside me again.

I grip his dick hard and whisper, “Are you going to cum for me?” He nods loosely, resembling a bobble head, while breathing heavily.

I spin us, taking control. Hobbling on my one good leg, I push his back against the rough wood exterior of the cabin.

Forcing down a wince of pain as I attempt to dominate the serial killer.

He roughly crashes into the side of the shack as I start to lose my balance.

I grab his shoulders on instinct, and he catches me quickly before I take us both down.

Smirking, he pulls me flush against him.

“Sorry,” I whisper at the same time he says, “Keep going.”

I don’t know what I was thinking when I decided to try and top him, I have no idea what I’m doing. I just don’t want to end up in the cage again. It’s so damn small, I can’t move enough to get blood flowing or any friction to warm my skin. I hate being so fucking cold.

He takes my hand in his, placing it on his throat like before.

His cock twitches against my leg and I know the show must go on.

I cinch my fingers tight around his neck.

“I asked you a question,” I snap. With one hand on his junk, and my other around his throat, I jostle him, pushing him against the building again. “Answer me, pig.”

“Yes, I’m goin’ to cum for ya. Fuck, darlin’…harder,” he whines. So pathetic, so easy to manipulate. I tighten my grip on both his dick and his neck. Watching his face redden because of my ferocity.

“Then fuckin’ cum for me, killer,” I purr. I don’t know who I am. I don’t recognize my voice. Is this my survival instinct kicking in? I don’t fucking know, but that feeling of power reignites in my veins and I do know I’d snap his fucking neck right now if I had the strength to do it.

His body shudders, eyes rolling back, as a guttural moan reverberates out around us.

He cums in his pants like an imbecile, and I’m extremely pleased with myself.

As terrible and gross as this was, it was my choice.

I didn’t get taken against my will or smacked around, and there’s some twisted sense of pride in that.