Page 9 of Riot’s Thorn (Sons of Erebus: Reno, NV #4)

CHAPTER FIVE

PARKER

I pause my yelling to listen for the voices. There were people in the cabin. I heard them. Apparently, they didn’t hear me, though. Either that, or they’re okay with me being abducted by a lunatic.

I’m quiet for long seconds, not hearing anything other than a clink of glass. Now, there’s nothing. Are they gone?

Yanking on the metal cuff, I wince at how raw the skin feels already. The pain is nothing compared to the fear keeping my heart pounding so hard, my pulse is echoing in my ears. He said he wouldn’t rape me, but he said that while choking me, which makes me feel like I’m on borrowed time.

A traitorous part of my psyche whispers words I don’t want to admit, like how attractive he is and how his hand around my throat and his face close to mine both terrified and excited me.

It has to be some sort of reactive phenomenon to being in a stressful situation because other explanations, like being attracted to him, are unfathomable.

The fact that big men are my type and his build and height are unlike anything I’ve seen in real life means nothing. Oh, god. What kind of sick person am I? The muscles I’m sexualizing are the same ones that could have snapped my neck not even half an hour earlier.

It has to be the stress. My mind is teetering on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and I’m not thinking clearly. That has to be it.

I try to force the gag out of my mouth with my tongue, but he must’ve double-knotted it because my attempts have only soaked it in my saliva, making this whole experience worse.

The door creaks open, preventing my thoughts from spiraling further. Riot walks in looking more solemn than he was when he left. The visit with his guests must not have gone well. Good. Maybe they talked some sense into him.

He uncuffs me, and I immediately roll my wrists before rubbing at the sore flesh. Yanking on the cuffs was stupid, as I only hurt myself.

“Do you need to shit or piss?” he asks.

My eyes nearly bug out of my head. I’m twenty-one and have been around my fair share of fraternity dude-bros, but I’ve never heard that question uttered aloud. “N-no.”

“Get into bed then.”

His ever-changing moods are throwing me off. I get the feeling something bad will happen if I argue, so I walk around him and climb in, placing my glasses on the nightstand and settling myself on top of the covers at the very edge of the mattress. It’s the safest I can make myself right now.

I watch in horror and fascination as he pulls off his shirt, revealing defined pecs and abs that could be used as a ladder.

His skin is tanned, smooth, and covered in black tattoos.

The biggest of them is a roaring lion across his right shoulder and pec.

He lifts long silver chains that hang from his neck and, one by one, sets them on the dresser along with his rings.

When he undoes his belt and pops the button of his jeans, I avert my gaze. It doesn’t stop me from knowing exactly what he’s doing because I hear the clank of his belt hitting the floor. What I don’t hear is him digging through a drawer or clothes being pulled off a hanger in the closet.

There’s no way he’d get into this bed with me in just his underwear, right? Surely, he’ll put on sweats or something, right?

Wrong.

Not five seconds later, the light in the room goes out and the bed dips. Oh, my god. This day just gets more and more unbelievable. If I ever get the chance to tell my friends what’s happened to me, they’ll think I’m exaggerating. But when the truth is this insane, there’s no need to lie.

Just when I think it can’t get worse, his big arm loops around my middle, and he drags me to the center of the bed where his warm body is waiting. My breath catches.

Holy shit. Is he. . . spooning me?

I whimper when his hold tightens, pulling me flush against him, his body curling around mine. In my head, I repeat his promise not to rape me over and over, trying to calm myself. If this is the worst that happens, I can survive it. There’s no chance I’ll sleep, but I’ll survive it.

“Huh,” he mutters, his mouth way too close to my ear.

“What?” I ask, not knowing if I really want an answer.

“I thought it would bother me.”

“You thought what would bother you?”

“Having you this close. I’ve never. . . snuggled before,” he says as if the word tastes bad.

I want to toss out a quip about him being an asshole because that surely means he kicks his conquests out of his bed after using them, but I hold it in. I don’t want to discuss his sex life. Matter of fact, I want to keep his mind as far away from his dick as possible.

“But it feels right, in a way,” he adds.

“Are you joking?”

“You don’t feel it?”

If I just ignore that it’s him comforting me, it does feel nice. After a day like today, I’ve never needed to be held more. I can’t tell him that, though, so instead, I say, “The only thing I feel when you touch me is disgust.”

He freezes, and I wonder if I shouldn’t have said anything. I can practically hear his churning thoughts as he mulls over my insult, but then he relaxes back into me. “You’ll get used to it.”

I sniffle, emotion clogging my throat. “I won’t. You can keep me here as long as you want, but you’ll never be anything other than the man who ruined my life.”

“Strong words for a girl who doesn’t know shit about shit.”

“Then tell me what I’m missing because I can’t imagine anything that would make me hate you less for killing my only remaining family member.”

“You’re not ready.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Rest now. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“You’re certifiable if you think I can sleep next to you.”

His response is to trace slow circles on my stomach with his thumb. I tense, wondering if he was lying about raping me just so I’d be compliant, but he never moves too far north or south. Eventually, my muscles relax.

“That’s a girl,” he whispers.

I roll my eyes, but I’m done arguing for the day. Nothing I say will make him let me go. My only hope will be escaping. I stare straight ahead, determined not to sleep. I can’t trust him, and maybe if he’s a heavy sleeper, I can slip out of bed and get a closer look at the front door and windows.

I awaken with my cheek pressed against something warm and smooth, a heavy weight resting on my lower back. I blink my eyes to adjust to the morning light streaming into the room and try to remember where I am. Everything hits me at once, and I pop my head up, leaving a pool of drool under me.

“Shit.” I shove against Riot’s chest, mortified I was lying on top of him.

He’s on his back, one hand behind his head, the other dropping to the mattress from where it was holding me. His lip twitches, which is probably as close to an amused grin as this man gets.

“What did you do? Wait until I was asleep and then force me closer?” I jump off the bed, my hands fisted at my sides.

He swipes at the drool on his chest and brings it up to inspect it. My brows furrow, and I gasp when he opens his mouth and sucks my saliva from his finger. What the actual fuck? I’m literally speechless.

“No, Little Thorn. You did that all on your own.” He pushes up to sit.

“You’re lying.”

“I was just as surprised as you, since I get the feeling you don’t like me.”

“I hate you.”

“Might want to tell your body that.” He swings his feet off the bed and stands to stretch.

I didn’t notice what he ended up sleeping in last night, but I see the white boxer briefs now.

I also see the outline of his long, thick cock stretching up to his hip.

Just because I’m a virgin doesn’t mean I haven’t seen dicks before.

I rely heavily on porn and my vibrator to meet my needs.

I just never thought I’d see one like his in the wild.

Something that big has to be rare, right?

Why the hell am I focused on the size of penises right now? This is inappropriate and downright stupid. This man is a murderer, and I might be his next victim. Who cares what his junk looks like?

“Men’s testosterone level is highest in the morning, which is enough to cause an erection,” he says, forcing my gaze up. I expect to find a smug smile, but his expression is blank. Still, my cheeks heat, and I chastise myself for letting my guard down.

“I’m going to use the bathroom,” I say and leave the room, embarrassed.

After doing my business and using a new toothbrush I find in a drawer, I run my hands through my sleep-mussed hair.

My gaze locks on my throat, and I trace where each finger squeezed, almost wishing there were marks there.

Being at his mercy was initially terrifying, but when he finally released me, I felt an exhilaration I can’t explain, like I cheated death or something.

This isn’t one of your dark romance novels, you idiot.

This whole situation is messing me up. I feel like if just one more unthinkable thing happens, I’ll lose my grasp on the small grip of reality I have left. All I want to know is how this will end and what he’s planning on doing with me.

The rich aroma of coffee has me leaving the only space I feel safe.

I need some creature comforts if I’m going to survive, and that starts with caffeine.

Walking into the living room, I stop dead in my tracks when I see the two rats wrestling on the ugly carpet.

They’re in my way, but I don’t dare walk past them.

“They’re friendly,” Riot says, buttering a piece of toast in the kitchen.

“I’m afraid of rats.”

“That’s fuckin’ stupid.” He pulls his lower lip behind his teeth and whistles. The rats immediately stop rolling around and run toward him. They disappear behind the half-wall separating the living room and kitchen, where they appear on Riot’s shoulders.