Page 72 of Little Spider

RAVEN

My pulse won’t slow down. Even as the sounds of the parade fade into the background, my heart keeps pounding like it’s trying to break free from my chest. Damien still has his hand wrapped around my wrist, his grip unyielding as he drags me through the narrow, dimly lit alley.

I keep glancing over my shoulder, looking for anyone—someone who might notice, who might care—but the streets are mostly empty back here, everyone crowded at the main square celebrating the festival.

The smell of smoke and incense still lingers in the air, mixing with the cool night breeze. My feet stumble over the uneven cobblestones, and he yanks me upright without slowing down.

“I thought I made myself clear,” he muttered, not even looking back. His voice is low, rough—like he’s still fighting the rage bubbling under the surface. “You don’t run from me. Ever.”

I swallow hard, trying to twist free, but his fingers dig in tighter, pulling me against his side. My mind races, looking for options, trying to calculate whether I could get away if I tried to shove him into the wall.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he says, almost amused, glancing at me with that wicked, dark glint in his eyes. “Trying to figure out how to slip away again? You’re not that clever, Little Spider.”

We emerge into a wider courtyard, abandoned except for a few overturned crates and the faint sound of music echoing from the distance. He shoves me up against the stone wall, pinning me there with his body, one hand braced beside my head.

“You want to run so badly,” he whispers, leaning in so his mouth brushes against my ear. “But you don’t understand. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. And I don’t let go of what’s mine.”

My heart races, but I force myself to glare at him, hating the way his presence wraps around me, suffocating and addictive.

“You’re insane,” I choke out.

He smirks, tilting his head.

“Maybe. But that changes nothing.”

His free hand moves to my jaw, tilting my head up so I have to look at him. His thumb brushes over my lips, and I can’t help the way I flinch. He just chuckles softly, darkly and mocking.

“You’re scared. Good. You should be. I’m not done with you yet.”

I try to push him back, but he presses closer, trapping me between his body and the wall. His fingers trace down my neck, brushing over the faint bruises he left earlier.

“Why did you run?” he murmurs, his tone almost curious, like he’s dissecting me. “Was it because you didn’t want to admit how much you liked it? How much you needed me to break you?”

I clench my jaw, refusing to answer, and he just clicks his tongue in disappointment.

“You don’t get to lie to me,” he says, voice hardening. “I felt the way you came apart in my hands. I saw the way you lookedat me when you thought I was asleep—like you couldn’t decide whether to kiss me or kill me.”

My cheeks burn, and I hate how right he is. The confusion, the twisted mess of fear and need, tangles inside me until I don’t know which way is up.

“You can’t just… keep me like this,” I whisper, barely able to get the words out. “I’m not your property.”

He tilts his head, that dangerous smirk never leaving his face.

“Aren’t you?” he taunts. “You gave yourself to me. You let me in. You begged for it, Raven. Don’t pretend now that you didn’t want it.”

He leans closer, his mouth brushing over mine, not quite a kiss, just a reminder of his control.

“You ran because you’re scared of how much you liked it,” he says, his voice dropping to a growl. “You’re terrified of what it means—that you wanted me to do those things to you. That you still want it now.”

I shake my head, but he presses his lips to mine, swallowing my protest. His hands move to my waist, pulling me against him, and I can’t help the way my body responds, arching toward him even as my mind screams to get away.

“You’ll never get away from me,” he whispers against my mouth. “Because even if you run, you’ll always come back. Your body knows who it belongs to.”

I shove at his chest, finally breaking free from his grip, but he doesn’t move, just watches me with that dark, possessive gaze. I take a shaky step back, and he just smirks, letting me have the illusion of space.

“Go ahead,” he says, spreading his arms like he’s inviting me to run. “Try it again. I’ll catch you. I’ll always catch you.”

My feet refuse to move, frozen in place as he takes a slow step forward, eyes locked on mine.