Page 38 of Tether
“Cat got your tongue, little crow?” he teases, with a smug grin, throwing my words back in my face.
Tension weighs heavy in the air, so thick I could cut it with a knife. I clear my throat.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay after the other night,” I admit, looking down at the floor to avoid the intensity of his stare.
“I heard a loud noise, and when I came to find you, you were gone. I thought maybe you were hurt, but it seems like you’re right back to your usual asshole self.” I try to keep my voice steady, but with his face so close to mine, it comes out weaker than I’d hoped.
Loxen lets me slip past him, our bodies nearly touching as I do.
“Verena.” His voice drops into a low, deliberate drawl, and my steps falter at the door as if it were a command.
I stay quiet, but peer over my shoulder so he knows I’m listening.
“You know,” he continues, voice laced with danger. “You broke my promise.”
I quirk a brow, as if to say,and what are you going to do about it?
“Next time I won’t be so forgiving.” A devastating smile curls at the corner of his mouth, and I feel heat lick at my core.
I raise my hand slowly, playing it cool, and give him the most innocent flip-off imaginable, offering him a sweet smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Noted.”
Loxen’s laughter follows me out of the library.
I make it back to my room in less than a minute, strip out of my clothing in exchange for a cozy pyjama set, and toss the wet fabric into the laundry bin. I flop into my warm bed, wrapping the blankets around myself like a worm, burying its way into the dirt. A cheeky grin that refuses to fade pulls at my lips, and I drift into sleep effortlessly, with the sound of rain pulling me under.
TWENTY-FOUR
VERENA GRAVENHURST
Warm, lazy fingers tease circles over my sensitive bud, sending small bursts of pleasure straight into the tips of my toes. Two of them dip inside of my pussy, dragging me from my slumber in a torturous come-hither motion, and I groan, stirring awake, grinding my hips greedily against his palm. His fingers slip deeper inside of me, swiping a thumb over my clit, and I release a soft whimper. With my eyes closed, still half asleep, I slowly run my hands down my chest, savouring every pleasurable second. As they roam over the peaks of my full breasts, I lazily roll my nipples between my fingers, and the sun pours through the window, drenching my skin in a delicious warmth.
“It’s time to wake up.” Reed’s whisper slithers through my haze. I groan in disagreement, not wanting to leave the serenity of the space between my dream world and reality. If I could live in this grey area forever, I would.
My orgasm builds inside of me as Reed pumps his fingers in and out. There’s a peculiar silence in my brain, a feeling entirely foreign to me, and I revel in it, only allowing myself to feel the pleasurelicking at my core.
“I said it’s time to wake up, Gravenhurst,” he demands again.
“No,” I whimper. “Please,” I breathe, “just a little longer.”
Reed doesn’t say a word, just pumps his fingers faster, and I feel my climax just out of reach. He uses his other hand to rub my clit, and the friction sends flutters of ecstasy down my spine.“Fuck, yes.” I tip my head back against the pillow and squeeze my eyes shut. Is this what heaven feels like? “Please, don’t stop.”
“You take my fingers so well, baby.” I don’t have to look down to know Reed is grinning.
An arm slides over my stomach from somewhere behind me, and goosebumps spread across my skin from their touch. They pepper gentle kisses along the expanse of my neck, and when a large palm grips my breast, another wave of pleasure washes over me. Stars burst in the back of my eyes.
“Wake up, little crow. Now.”
Loxen.
I wake with a gasp, straining against a firm hold, a dull throb between my thighs. Warm rays of sun no longer kiss my skin as they had in my dream. No, it’s still well before dawn, and the storm has yet to calm. Rain whips violently at my bedroom window, and my vision blurs, suddenly aware of my surroundings. Four cloaked figures surround my bed. The room tilts as two of them grip my wrists. Their hoods are pulled down over their masks, one the skull of a fox, the other an animal I can’t quite decipher. I open my mouth to scream, but The Fox reacts quickly, stifling me by pressing a rough cloth over my nose and mouth. I make the mistake of gasping for air, and chemicals burn the back of my throat like wildfire. Within moments, my vision grows cloudy. I buck against their hold, landing a swift kick to the ribs of the person at the end of the bed, restraining one of my ankles. The Fox presses the cloth harder into my face, and I try to fight against the heavy sinking of my eyelids, but calmnesssettles into my limbs within seconds, and before I can make a sound, my vision surrenders to darkness.
Low, muffled voices have me stirring, guiding me back to the living. My thoughts are unhinged, fading in and out, slowly drifting through the labyrinth of my mind. Inhaling a shallow breath through my nose, I notice the air is torrid and heavy with the scent of smoke. I try to swallow, but my mouth is bone dry, and the effort feels exaggerated, like shards of glass are now embedded in my esophagus. A thick piece of fabric is pressed between my teeth, and something tightens around my abdomen when I attempt to move. A gentle pull restrains my wrists. My brain is foggy, but I shift and feel ropes scraping against the soft flesh of my wrists. Wiggling my fingers seems to be a feat of its own, because they’re so numb it’s like I don’t have any at all. Memories filter in slowly, then all at once, and visions of cloaked figures standing in my room, surrounding the bed, flash in the back of my mind. My eyelids fly open, as if I’ve just been doused in a bucket of ice water. Panic overcomes my entire being, and I yank on the rope, willing it to come free, but the attempt is futile, and all I see is darkness. My eyes, hands and body are bound, and whatever drugs I had inhaled are keeping me weak and sluggish. It takes half a second longer than usual to instruct my limbs to move, but they do, and I thrash against the bindings with what little strength I have in me.
I strain my ears, the only valuable sense I have left, and listen for anything that could possibly explain where I am. Where they’ve taken me, whoevertheyare. But the only sound I hear is the crackling of a fire nearby. I have an unnerving feeling of being watched, though, causing the hairs on my arms to stand.My skin crawls with a million imaginary spiders. The need to scream, to cry, to run, to escape from this body is overwhelming—but I can’t do any of those things. I feel trapped, and suddenly I’m struggling to breathe. Dread, like I’ve never felt before, becomes a living, breathing thing within me. My chest heaves as I struggle to take a deep lungful over the cloth, but I can’t seem to get a full breath, and anxiety curls itself around my throat like a serpent.
“Look who’s awake,” says a voice I recognize, but can’t pinpoint through the haziness of my mind. His tone is bored, entirely unamused, but it startles me nonetheless.
A woman laughs. “Better take the blindfold off before the girl panics to death.”
