Page 30 of Wicked Ends (Hellions of Hade Harbor #4)

Arianna

I came to slowly. Drifting into consciousness.

The warm glow of a lamp on the desk shed enough light to reveal that I was still in my room at the Night Owl.

I was sitting up in a hard, wooden chair, it seemed.

I was also gagged. I went to pull the material out of my mouth and stiffened.

I couldn’t move my arm. I looked down, horrified to see that my arms were bound to the arms of the chair and my ankles were tied to its wooden legs, forcing me into a spread position.

Luckily, I still had my underwear on, but nothing else.

What the hell?

I barely had time to fully freak out before the main door opened.

“Awake, birthday girl?” Marcus asked, stepping into the room.

I knew him by his muffled voice. He was wearing a black biker helmet, a leather jacket, and dark jeans. He also had black leather gloves on, like some kind of hired killer. Fear flooded me. Hot and burning through my veins.

Holy shit. What had I gotten myself into? But it wasn’t just fear burning through my veins. There was also something much more dark and twisted. Anticipation.

He was holding a bucket of ice in one hand, which he promptly set down on the table, along with his helmet.

He positioned the other heavy wooden chair across from me and sat.

Then he reached out and grabbed my burner phone, turning it this way and that in his hands.

“You want to tell me why you’re using a phone like this? On the run from the mob?”

I stared at him; it’s not like I could answer with the damn gag in my mouth.

He shrugged and tucked the phone into his pocket. “Fine, keep your secrets. But that means there’s no reason not to use the one I gave you. I’ll be keeping this until you do.”

I rolled my eyes at him. He was having far too much fun with all this, and I waited to see where he was going with it.

“How are you feeling? I didn’t want to use too much, but honestly, I’ve only used it once before.” He reached out and tugged the gag off.

“Who did you use it on before?” I blurted out, immediately regretting my words.

“Why? Jealous, baby?”

No. Yes. “Of course not. But, Marcus, you’re going to get in trouble for this. If you stop it now, I’ll let it slide.” I was trying to sound confident but failing miserably.

He smirked. I hated that smirk. I loved that smirk. Even now, he could be amused. The playful arrogance he wore like a second skin was so natural on him, I couldn’t imagine him any other way.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I wanted to do this the easy way, but it seems like you’re forcing my hand.” He tilted his head.

“You don’t sound sorry,” I pointed out.

He chuckled. “I don’t, do I? It’s your fault… playing with you is the most fun I’ve had in years. Imagine my delight when you decided to play back.”

I swallowed hard. “I’m not trying to play… I didn’t want to start a game.”

Marcus nodded and then shrugged. “But you did. You don’t know this about me, but I love a good game.”

He stood and circled behind me. I twisted to try and see him, but the restraints made it impossible.

“A good game should have stakes… and excitement. It should push boundaries. It should be unpredictable and exhilarating.”

He appeared again. He’d traded his black leather gloves for medical-grade white ones. I stared at the sight.

“I’m looking forward to pushing some boundaries with you tonight, Ari.”

My mouth went dry as he took a folded knife out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

He leaned a hip against the table and stared at me.

“Unless, of course, you just want to tell me where my money is. Tell me where the money is… and all of this ends. We go back to normal.”

“What’s normal for you? Will you leave me alone?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

I shook my head, powerless and hating it. “Please, stop this now.”

He moved to the chair in front of me, sat back, and folded his arms across his chest. “But we’re playing so nicely together. Don’t be a spoilsport. Now, where’s the bag?”

I swallowed the hard knot in my throat. This was it. But if I gave up the bag now, I’d have achieved nothing except starting a game I had no hope of winning.

I raised my chin. “I’m not telling you, and if you don’t stop all of this, you’ll never see that money again.”

Marcus’ lips quirked. “You’re blackmailing me?”

I shrugged. “Learning from your example.”

His smirk spread into a smile. “I should be pissed off at you giving me the runaround, but honestly… it’s more fun this way.”

He reached out and grabbed the knife from the table, and I fought a flinch.

“Tell me where the bag is, Professor.” He unfolded the knife slowly.

My attention fixed on the shining blade.

I shook my head. “I can’t do that.” Without the bag, I had nothing.

He sighed like I was the most trying person he’d ever met.

He brought the knife to my neck and scraped gently along the length of it.

My skin prickled, the rough drag of the blade making me feel…

nothing like it was supposed to. My nipples hardened immediately, drawing Marcus’ attention. He glanced down, and his smirk widened.

“You like that, Professor Moore?”

I held my tongue and tried to ignore the hot feeling spreading through me. What was this? Was I actually turned on right now?

“Hmm, I think you do. It’s okay. I like it, too.

” He trailed the knife down the slope of my shoulder and under my bra strap.

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep my hands off you after the showcase? You’re walking around campus, that talented, that lovely, that fucking interesting, and I’m supposed to stay away? ”

“You’re nuts,” I said, though those words surrounded my heart like a warm caress.

“And you play like a fucking angel. My fucking angel, to be clear. I’m not sure I want anyone else hearing that sound. Why don’t you perform more often, or do you prefer something else…” He glanced down at my musical note tattoo. “Composing? Is that what you love? I bet you’re fucking great at it.”

The knife moved across my collarbone, playing with my bra strap.

“As good as you are at playing with me, beautiful, I know you love it, and this. It’s okay; like I said, I love it, too.”

He ghosted the knife against my skin, and I shook.

It wasn’t even just the implied threat, but the trust. He could hurt me, but I knew he wouldn’t.

It wasn’t a feeling I was used to feeling toward a man.

I felt like I was falling, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Marcus drank in my expression, seeing more than I wanted him to.

“It’s okay to tell me, Ari. It’s only you and me here. There’s no one else in the world. There’s no judgment, no criticism; there’s you and me and what we do together.”

His blade sawed the edge of my bra strap. The sound of the material tearing felt like an alarm going off.

“What I don’t like is you letting that creep put his hands on you. That’s against the rules of the game.”

“Who? Wade?” I asked.

Marcus glowered at me. “You’re on a first-name basis with that fuck? Who is he to you? Has he been hitting on you? Asking you out? Tell me the truth, because I’m going to find out anyway.”

“No, he hasn’t. Tonight, he blindsided me,” I snapped, getting increasingly nervous about my bra strap.

“If you cut that strap, I don’t have any other bras to wear,” I warned him.

Fuck. This was the one bra I had that actually fit my larger chest. Still, that didn’t seem to deter Marcus even one bit.

It might have made excitement flare in the depths of his dark eyes.

“You’re telling me that if I cut this, you’ll be walking around class, bending over my table, without a bra on?” His gaze strayed down to my cleavage. “And you expect that to put me off… like I wouldn’t want to see these fucking glorious tits swaying under your shirt?”

“Yeah, you and every other student in class,” I bit out.

He paused the cutting motion of the knife.

“Well played.” He pulled the knife away. “No one gets to see how your tits bounce when you walk, except me. No one gets to touch you, except me. I guess we’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

He tugged the frayed strap down my arm and repeated the action on the other side, then tugged the entire thing down a few inches so that my nipples were on display, hard as little rocks and pointing at him, propped up by my bra.

“There they are. I’ll bet they’ve missed me, haven’t they?” he teased.

Yes, God help me.

“Were you always this arrogant, or has your head swelled up from being a fawned-over Ice God… a goalie nonetheless…”

He smiled. “I love how it sounds when you call me a god. Did you enjoy the game?”

“Yeah, I loved seeing you get in shit for being a hotheaded bastard,” I shot out.

The fucker laughed. “You know, until today, I’ve never taken gloves off during a match. But you, Ari, and our little game… it’s got me all hot under the collar. Since you started this, it’s your responsibility to deal with it, wouldn’t you say? Isn’t that what a responsible adult would do?”

“You’ve lost your mind. You’ve taken too many hard hits, and it’s all mixed up in there,” I accused.

My breath caught when Marcus leaned in, and his hot breath hit the sensitive skin of my nipple.

His mouth stopped only a few inches from touching the hard, desperate point.

My whole body tensed in the anticipation of having his warm mouth wrapped around it.

My breath came short, puffing in and out without mercy. I couldn’t hold onto it.

He nodded, the movement bringing his mouth even closer to my breast.

“Maybe so… right now, it certainly feels like it. I only have two things going through my demented mind… where the bag is, and what color you see when I make you scream my name.”

My mouth was so dry I was forced to wet my lips, and his eyes fixated on the movement.

“Sex isn’t music,” I ground out.