Page 33 of Riot’s Thorn (Sons of Erebus: Reno, NV #4)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

PARKER

I have no idea where I’m going; I’m just running.

After sitting at the bar for twenty minutes, I got bored and curious. Navy told me about the hidden door in the pantry while she was giving me a tour. She also warned me to stay clear of it. But I felt a pull, something telling me I needed to see what happened down there. I’m so stupid.

I fly through the kitchen and out the back door.

This must be employee parking because there’s nothing special about it.

No green oasis in the desert, just an asphalt lot that backs up against a tall brick fence and a couple of dumpsters.

My fight or flight didn’t work back at the mansion, but it’s working double time right now as I climb on top of the dumpster and jump onto the brick fence.

It’s an eight-foot drop onto dirt and weeds on the other side.

“Parker,” Riot barks, stepping outside.

One quick glance at him has me lowering to my ass and turning my body around as I cling to the fence.

There’s a brief moment as I’m hanging off the edge that I doubt myself, but hearing Riot angrily yelling my name again, I let go and fall.

My legs collapse under me, and I hit the ground, but I’m uninjured as I stand and brush myself off.

Without thought, I run. Thankfully, it’s just now dusk outside, so I can still mostly see in front of me. It doesn’t even register that night is coming quickly and I could easily get lost. Plus, this is when the bobcats and coyotes come out. I’m the perfect size for a meal.

“You don’t want to do this,” Riot warns from his perch atop the fence, his voice a razor slicing through the air.

His veiled threat only fuels my resolve to leave, so I push my feet to move faster.

It’s a foolish decision, I realize, as I glance down at my Converse.

They’re not the best running shoes, and they’re low tops, so my ankles are about to get cut up by the Northern Nevada terrain.

There’s not a soul or structure in sight, literally nowhere to go, yet my legs propel me onward.

If any thought other than fleeing was in my mind, I’d curse the lack of a sports bra and the discomfort of the relentless bouncing.

Add to that the sharp weeds clawing at my ankles and the burrs embedding painfully into my skin as I charge forward, but none of these nuisances register as I pump my arms and drive my feet harder.

I wouldn’t label myself a runner—I actually despise it—yet I grudgingly hit the treadmill a few times a week and have a private Pilates instructor who keeps my body somewhat agile and toned.

Despite that, the cellulite and lower belly pooch remain, but I’d rather live with those than starve myself.

However, I’m regretting that trade-off now because I doubt I can outrun him.

A primal fear ignites as I hear his boots pounding relentlessly behind me, eliciting a spine-chilling shiver to ripple through me. He’s stronger and faster, so it’s only a matter of time before he captures me. What then? Will I be the next one dangling from the ceiling?

The horrific image of the man flashes brutally in my mind, a sob strangling my throat. He was naked, his body battered to hell, and his face—oh god, his face was a grotesque mess, like pulverized meat, shredded and dripping with blood. If he isn’t dead yet, he will be soon.

Riot closes in on me, and knowing I’m done for, I stop, bending over, hands on my knees.

My chest heaves and my lungs burn from the exertion and probably a little from shock.

My abrupt stop doesn’t give Riot enough time to slow, and I realize all too late that he’s about to collide with me.

One second my feet are planted firmly on the ground, and the next, they’re not.

We’re only in the air for a moment or two, but in that time, Riot has slid one arm around my waist while the other cradles my head. We hit the ground hard, knocking the wind and all thoughts out of me. Not Riot, though. He has the good sense to roll, easing our landing the best he can.

Even when I piss him off, he’s rescuing me, and that pisses me off.

Riot rolls off me, spreading his arms out wide.

He groans in pain, his eyes squeezed shut, no doubt from the dry dirt our landing kicked up, and I’m still struggling to get air back into my lungs.

My hip hurts something fierce, and my legs are more scratched up now than they were before we crashed out, but other than that, I think I’m okay.

Recovering faster than me, he climbs on top of me and pins my wrists above my head.

His dark eyes are even more sinister when they’re bloodshot and irritated, but it’s the blood splatter covering his face that makes me wince and turn away.

Except his arm is worse off, and a quick glance shows his knuckles are a mess with his blood, that man’s blood, who knows, but it’s repulsive.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he sneers.

“Me? What the fuck is wrong with you?” I choose to focus on his eyes, which are fixed on the ground above my shoulder.

“I told you to stay with Navy. What part of that was unclear?”

Despite his anger, I feel something growing. “You’re getting hard over this?”

“I’m hard every time I’m between your thighs, Little Thorn.” He grinds into me with zero shame. “Now tell me why you disobeyed. You knew why I was coming here and what that entailed.”

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“I just had to know who you really are!” I shout into his face.

“Why? Because seeing me blow your dad’s brains out wasn’t enough?”

I wince at the cruelty of his words. “Fuck you, Riot!”

“Are my words too harsh? I’m not the sugar-coating kind of guy. You already know that.”

“Get off me! I want to go home.”

“I don’t think so. You said you wanted to know who I am, but you only got a brief look.

So maybe I should tell you exactly what I did to him.

” He slams my wrists against the ground, rocks embedding in my skin.

“I pulled out every single one of his fingernails, and then I sodomized him with a round bristle brush?—”

“Stop! I don’t want to know.” I shake my head back and forth, as if my ears can escape his words.

“After I rammed the round brush up his ass, I beat the shit out of him with my bare hands. Does that tell you who I am, Little Thorn?”

A rock is digging into my back, and I try to twist away from it. Now the adrenaline is wearing off, the pain is settling in. “Get off me!”

“Not a chance. Answer my question.” There’s still an edge to his tone, but it’s tapered off a little, and because I know how much vulnerability is hiding behind this murderous character he’s created, I know he’s nervous about what I’ll say.

“No. I didn’t know this version of you. You’re not the same person who loves on his rats and does whatever he can to take care of me.”

“You’re wrong. I’m the same person here as I am there. You just choose to believe I’m a better person than I am.”

“Why?” I ask.

He cocks his head. “Why what?”

“Why did you do those things to him?”

“Does it matter?”

“With you? Yes.”

His hold loosens, and his gaze shifts to over my shoulder. “Killer got Chaplain’s medical report. She had split and cracked nails from trying to claw into the floor as he dragged her.”

“So you pulled his fingernails out?” I surmise.

He nods. “He vaginally and anally penetrated her with a round brush. Tore her insides up and left it inside her.”

“Jesus.” My stomach turns.

“He beat the shit out of her. Cracked ribs, bruised face. The only thing he didn’t do to her that we’ll do to him is kill him. Does that clue you in on the kind of monster I am?”

The moment turns from anger to tenderness, and I have no idea how. I’ve always been level-headed and calm, but ever since I met this man, I’m all over the place. Angry, sad, annoyed, scared, turned on. . . Every other emotion is keyed up, just waiting to be put into play.

I answer him with a question of my own. “How do you see yourself?”

He dips down and drags his teeth across my earlobe, giving it a little tug. Despite lying on the dirty desert ground out in the open, right after seeing some of the most horrific things I’ve ever seen in my life, my core clenches.

“I’m the man who’s going to fuck you right here out in the open.”

“We can’t,” I protest, but it’s breathy because he’s biting into the thin skin of my neck, and I like the feel of his teeth.

“You fucked up, so you don’t get to decide.

” He pushes up onto his knees and yanks down my shorts and panties.

Hot desert air hits parts that have never been exposed outside, and even though I half-heartedly fight him, a little thrill shoots through me as I look around, making sure we’re alone.

“Worried someone will see? You should be. If anyone looks out those windows at the ranch, they’ll see exactly what I’m about to do to you. ”

There is one section of the building with a partial view, but much to my surprise, knowing that only turns me on more.

The kinky side of sex has always interested me, and when I’m alone in my room with my vibrator, the porn I search up includes spankings, degradation, and praise.

Was I holding onto my virginity because I instinctually knew the brief relationships I had with men wouldn’t do it for me? Possibly.

“Look at your greedy cunt, glistening with arousal just thinking about someone watching you take my cock.” He parts my folds and spits, hitting my clit. His saliva drips down to my asshole, and he rubs it in, applying pressure to the only hole he hasn’t invaded.

“No,” I say, and this time, I mean it. We’re not doing anal in the desert.

“What did I say?” He flicks my clit. The pain is quick and sharp, making me suck in a breath. “You don’t get to decide. I’ll have you however I want, and you’ll take it like the needy cum slut you are.”