Page 24 of Hunting Gianna (Stalkers in the Woods #3)

Blood blooms across his shirt, dark and spreading like spilled wine. His hands come up instinctively, grabbing at mine where they still grip the knife handle. I twist the blade, feeling tissue tear and resistance give way.

"That's for every time you made me feel worthless," I whisper, my face inches from his.

He tries to speak, but only a wet gurgle escapes. Blood bubbles at the corners of his mouth, trickling down his chin in thick rivulets. His eyes are wild, disbelieving, locked on mine as if trying to understand how this could possibly be happening to him.

I pull the knife out and stab again, higher this time, under his ribs. His body jerks, hands clawing weakly at my arms. I barely feel the scratches. All I feel is a strange, floating sensation, as if I'm watching myself from somewhere far away and very close at the same time.

Knox releases his hold, letting Brad slump to the ground.

The captain of the ship, master of his domain, reduced to a twitching heap of meat on the forest floor.

I kneel beside him, watching with detached fascination as his breathing grows ragged, then shallow, then stops altogether.

His eyes stare upward, reflecting pinpricks of starlight, seeing nothing.

"He's gone," I say, my voice oddly calm.

Knox kneels beside me, his mask tilted as if in question. "And how does it feel?"

I consider this, running my fingers through the blood pooling on Brad's shirt. It's warm and slick, already cooling in the night air. "Right," I answer, surprised by my own certainty. "Like fixing something that was broken for too long."

I look at my blood-covered fingers, turning them in the moonlight.

The dark liquid catches the light in strange ways, almost beautiful.

Without thinking, I bring my hand to my face, drawing a line across one cheek.

The blood is tacky against my skin, marking me in a way that feels ancient and significant.

Knox watches, his breathing changing behind the mask, becoming deeper, more ragged. I meet his eyes through the slits in the demon face, seeing the hunger there, the approval.

I dip my fingers again, drawing another line across my other cheek. Then down my neck, across my collarbone, staining my skin with what used to be Brad's life. Each stroke feels deliberate, meaningful—a baptism in the dark waters of who I'm becoming.

"I spent so long pretending," I say, my voice low and intimate in the silent forest. "Hiding parts of myself because I was afraid of what they meant. Afraid that if I admitted I wanted to hurt him, it would make me just as bad as he was."

Knox reaches out, tracing a finger through the blood on my cheek. "And now?"

I lean into his touch, closing my eyes for a moment. "Now I understand that everyone has darkness in them. Most people just pretend it isn't there. They smile and nod and say please and thank you while fantasizing about violence."

I open my eyes, holding his gaze through the mask. "But you—you never pretended. That's what unsettled me from the beginning. Not that you were dark, but that you owned it so completely. No apologies, no excuses."

His hand slides to the back of my neck, gripping it firmly. I can feel his pulse through his fingers, racing to match my own.

"I finally understand what it's like to balance the light and dark," I tell him, my voice steady despite the trembling in my limbs. "And I love it."

I press my blood-slick hand to Knox's chest, feeling his heart hammering beneath my palm. His breathing has grown heavy and labored behind the mask, his body radiating heat like a furnace.

"You showed me that I don't have to shove the dark down to stand in the light," I whisper, leaning closer to him. "Sometimes, becoming the dark IS the light."

In the stillness that follows, with Brad's cooling body beside us and the forest breathing around us, I feel something unlock inside me—a door I've kept bolted for as long as I can remember, finally swinging open to reveal not a monster, but simply another part of myself. Waiting. Complete.

The sound that tears from Knox's throat isn't human.

It's something older, something that existed before words, before civilization—a growl that vibrates through the space between us and settles deep in my core.

He steps forward, ripping the mask from his face and casting it aside.

His eyes burn in the darkness, pupils blown so wide they swallow the color.

He looks at me like I'm water in a desert, salvation and damnation wrapped in one blood-streaked package.

My breath catches as his hands reach for me, not gentle, not asking—taking.

He lifts me easily, hands gripping under my thighs with bruising force, and slams me against the nearest tree.

The bark scrapes my back raw through my shirt, but the pain just sharpens everything else; the heat of his body, the hard press of his cock against my clothed pussy, the metallic tang of blood in my mouth when he crashes his lips to mine.

The kiss isn't gentle. It's consumption, his tongue invading, teeth clashing against mine. He tastes like violence and desire, a combination that makes me dizzy with want. My legs wrap around his waist tighter, pulling him closer, grinding against the hard ridge behind his zipper.

"Fuck," he growls against my mouth, one hand moving to tear at my clothes. "You have no idea what you look like right now."

I do, though. I can feel it—power pulsing through me like a second heartbeat, the blood on my skin still warm enough to remind me of what I've done. What we've done.

Knox yanks my shirt up, not bothering with being gentle, the fabric ripping under his impatient hands.

Cool air hits my skin, raising goosebumps across my chest. He stares at my breasts, pupils dilating impossibly wider, then lowers his head to bite at my nipple.

The sharp pain makes me arch against him, a moan escaping my throat.

"I want you," I gasp, digging my nails into his shoulders. "Now. Hard."

He laughs against my skin, the sound dark and hungry. "Since when does my little bird give orders?"

"Since she grew talons," I reply, reaching between us to unbutton his jeans.

His answering grin is feral. He shifts his weight, using one hand to hold me up while the other works at his zipper. The muscles in his arm bulge with the effort, veins standing out beneath skin that glistens with sweat and smears of Brad's blood.

I can't wait. Hopping down, I shimmy out of my pants, letting them hang off one ankle, the chill night air making me shiver as it hits my wet, swollen pussy.

Knox yanks his cock free, thick and hard and already leaking at the tip.

He grabs me again, lifting me and sliding his finger along my slit.

He positions himself at my entrance, his eyes locked on mine.

"You sure?" he asks, voice rough with need. "Once I start, I won't stop."

I dig my heels into his back, pulling him closer. "If you don't fuck me right now, I'll gut you with your own knife."

He slams into me in one brutal thrust, stretching me so suddenly that I cry out, my head banging back against the tree trunk.

He doesn't give me time to adjust, just starts fucking me with deep, punishing strokes that knock the breath from my lungs.

Each thrust pushes me harder against the bark, scraping my back, the pain mixing with pleasure until I can't tell where one ends and the other begins.

"You're mine," Knox growls, his mouth at my ear, breath hot against my skin. "Say it."

I clamp down on him, squeezing his cock with my inner muscles, making him groan. "I'm yours," I gasp, the words dragged from somewhere deep inside me. "And you're mine."

He bites my neck in response, teeth breaking the skin, marking me as surely as the blood I've painted across my face. I cry out, the sharp pain sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my core. My nails rake down his back, tearing through his shirt, leaving bloody furrows in his skin.

He hisses at the pain but doesn't slow down. If anything, his thrusts become more violent, more desperate. The sound of my moans fills the forest, echoing off the trees. I'm pinned between Knox and the pine, helpless and powerful all at once.

My hands find purchase in his hair, yanking his head back so I can see his face. His eyes are wild, almost black with desire, his jaw clenched tight. Blood—Brad's, mine, his—smears across his cheek where I've touched him. He looks like a god of war, beautiful and terrible.

"Harder," I demand, voice breaking as he hits a spot deep inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. "Make me feel it tomorrow."

He shifts his grip, hands moving to my ass, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. The new angle lets him go deeper, each thrust bottoming out inside me, the head of his cock hitting that spot inside me with exquisite pain.

"You'll feel me for a week," he promises, voice raw. "Every time you move, you'll remember who you belong to."

The orgasm builds fast, a tidal wave I can't outrun. It crashes over me without warning, my body convulsing around his cock. I scream his name, unable to stop myself.

Knox follows me over the edge, his rhythm faltering as he drives into me one last time, holding himself deep as he comes. I feel the hot pulse of him inside me, filling me up, marking me from the inside out. His forehead drops to my shoulder, his breath coming in harsh pants against my skin.

For a long moment, we stay like that, locked together, my legs still wrapped around his waist, his cock still buried inside me.

Then, slowly, he pulls out, lowering me until my feet touch the ground.

My legs are shaking so badly I can't stand.

Knox catches me as I stumble, and we slide down together, collapsing in a heap at the base of the tree.

I curl into him, my head on his chest, listening to the thundering of his heart. He wraps an arm around me, pulling me closer, his hand stroking my hair with unexpected tenderness.

"You're fucking magnificent," he murmurs against the top of my head. "Do you have any idea what you've done to me?"

I look up at him, studying the sharp angles of his face in the moonlight. There's something new there, something I haven't seen before—a vulnerability beneath the strength, a need that goes beyond the physical.

"I think I do," I whisper, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw with bloodstained fingers. "Because you've done the same to me."

He captures my hand, bringing it to his mouth, kissing each fingertip with reverence. "You're mine now," he says, voice low and intense. "Body and soul. There's no going back from this."

I know he's right. What we've done tonight has changed everything.

The old Gianna—the one who bent and broke to please others, the one who hid her darkness behind smiles and apologies—she's gone.

In her place is someone new, someone who understands that power comes in many forms, and that sometimes the most honest thing you can do is embrace the monster inside.

"I don't want to go back," I tell him, pressing my lips to the pulse point in his throat. "This is where I belong."

We stay there, blood cooling on our skin, bodies entwined on the forest floor. Above us, the stars blink brightly, indifferent to the small deaths and rebirths happening beneath them. Brad's body lies forgotten a few yards away, already beginning the long process of returning to the earth.

I should feel something—regret, maybe, or horror at what we've done. But all I feel is a strange, peaceful clarity, as if I've finally stepped into the person I was always meant to be.

Knox's arms tighten around me, his breath warm against my hair. "My little bird has grown talons indeed," he rasps.