My Prey

Chapter 10: The Animal

Evelyn's pov:

Not only did he see me there, he had the audacity to drag me away from my table?
AND to make matters worse, if I go missing now, Sally won't have a clue why. She's definitely going to panic.

Down the corridor, towards the other security door we go. Each door we pass is closed but have a window, some of which are covered by a red fabric. The open ones however, house people fulfilling their deepest desires openly, as if asking for people to watch the show? I know exhibitionism is a thing for some people but it just seems so perverted, I'll never understand.

My thought path is ruptured by the sound of the security door slamming behind us, followed by the clink of heavy locks. I'm trapped. Time starts to move slowly as I'm pushed up against the desk, a knife to my throat.

"why the fuck are you here? Are you trying to die?"

I freeze. Why is he so mad? From what I've seen, there's all manner of people here so why did he zero in on me? I can't be his only enemy surely.
In typical Evelyn fashion, all sense of self preservation is overcome by the need for an attitude I was always warned would get me killed one day.

"Why does it matter to you? Someone getting all worked up? All those dancers and half naked people and you chose me? I'm flattered." That last part was dripping with as much sarcasm as I could force out and, if I'm going to die here, I might as well die with my power intact. I spit in his face. That was my mistake.

The change in his face was immediate and deadly. His once blue eyes, darkening with a mixture of anger and something else. Gritting his teeth and letting out a growl, he spins me around so I'm facing the table.

"Can you count or are you shit at that as well?"

I don't even get a chance to ask what he means before my dress is ripped upwards and his hand comes down on my ass cheek with enough force to shake the desk. I try to question what the fuck he thinks he's doing but his next line chills me to silence.

"If you're planning on getting out of this alive, you'll fucking count"

The growled line is punctuated with silence, shattered only by the sound of skin on skin contact.
With a loud smack, his hand comes down again and I mutter out a shakey "o-one." He puffs out a breath of satisfaction before bringing his hand down 9 more times, waiting for my mumbled number each time. With every impact, the sound ricochets off the walls in the room, followed by my voice, almost silent in comparison. I won't cry or yell in pain. I refuse to give him that satisfaction so instead, I just grit my teeth and count, my first act of obedience.

Once he was done, he took a step back and begun to head to the drawer of his desk. I go to pull down my dress but he growls out a quick "don't" and I stay put. To my surprise, he retrieves a soothing cream from his desk and stops behind me again. As if he's done this a thousand times, he softly massages the cream into my firey, stinging ass. His movements possess a softness that I didn't think he was even capable of and I'd be lying if I wasn't a little turned on.

Wait what am I saying? He's my sworn enemy. The wetness building between my legs has nothing to do with him surely. Maybe it's just a result of the beautiful woman earlier and I didn't notice till now. But deep down I know that's a lie. I know exactly why I'm so needy and, judging by the sudden quiver of his breath, Jace has noticed too. A quick finger brushing over the damp patch on my underwear proves that and my cheeks heat to a shade probably comparable to my ass right now.

He pulls my dress back down and walks around the desk to take a seat, the emotion I saw earlier has gone. He's back to his old, asshole self.

I turn to leave but remember the locked door, I'm still trapped.

Knowing it's locked, I walk up and tug on it before looking him in the eyes. I can't simply ask to unlock it through fear of my voice quivering. He can't know that he's affected me in a way I never expected him to. Polishing his knife with a cloth, yes the very one that was on my throat moments ago, he sits in silence. It's a simple knife, not exactly special? Just a carved, wooden handle and a smooth metal blade yet I never see him without it. I don't move from my spot by the door and instead, I simply watch. He's so careful in the way his fingers dance over the blade and how he grasps the handle, it's like the knife is a part of him.

After what feels like an eternity, he slides the blade back into a pocket on his blazer, stands, and makes his way over to the door. Without a word, he unlocks it and steps back, granting my freedom.

As fast as my feet can carry me, I sprint out of the room, through the club, up the stairs and out onto the street, passing Sally on the way. She didn't seem to care about my absence since shes flirting with her partner.. I'll just walk home. The cold air might do me some good and wash away what just happened.