My Prey

Chapter 15: What Am I?

Evelyn's pov :

I wake up with my wrists and ankles spread and bound with the same  cold, harsh leather as before, the gentle clink of the attached chains helping to clear the residual fog in my mind. There's a damp chill in the air, making me regret not getting changed before leaving as my lack of bra is visually obvious through my thin dress.

Aa the fog clears, I try to take in the room around me. It's dark, too dark to see anything but faint outlined shapes. There are no obvious windows to allow light or any time awareness and both the walls and the floor are made of the same cold, rough concrete. A sharp realisation hits me. I'm not alone. His breath is slow and controlled, almost unnoticeable. My hunter sits silently, watching. Straining my eyes, I can see him sat in a wooden chair, mere meters away, a shadow in an already impossibly dark room.

"oh good, you're awake."

His growl shakes my core, bouncing from the walls and reverberating through my body. He stands slowly, carefully and takes small steps towards me. He stops just within reach and allows his piercing gaze to roam up and down my body, darkening with a primal form of hunger.

His knife has been replaced. Now my butterfly knife sits comfortably in his hand instead. It's Damascus steel stolen by his expert hands, claimed, owned. He slides the blade across my exposed collar bones, a cruel grin spreading beneath the black mask. I don't even know why he still wears masks. I've already seen his face?

Without leaving time to react properly, let alone flinch, the cold, ruthless steel slices through both of the straps of my dress. With nothing else holding it up, the fabric lands crumpled at my feet.

I'm completely exposed.

As he continues to drag the icy metal across my body, a path of goosebumps ignights across my skin, the sensation causing both logic and reasoning to take a back seat in my mind. I want to escape but, at the same time, why is the slight sting of the blade odly soothing. A shiver passes down my chest and stomach, straight to my aching core.

"You're enjoying this aren't you? Such a filthy little mutt."

The gravel of his voice is setting my skin alight. Why am I reacting this way? My body is like electric, reacting to his touch like the opposite charges of magnets. Quickly, his blade, my blade, pressed into my skin, biting into my flesh. Small ribbons of deep red trail across my skin, pathways down my chest and stomach. The burning hot droplets are a welcome contrast to the icy cold of my butterfly knife.

His wrist is dextrous, twisting and dancing to utilise both sides of the sharp steel.

He switches between intentional pressure to release more Ruby beads and feathering movements that barely graze the surface. He moves with purpose and intention, I am putty in his skillful hands. Melting under his expert movements, a fog of pleasure begins to build, blocking rational thought.

"Such a pretty little toy, can't use you up too quickly now can we?"

He steps backwards, leaving me trembling and wanting. After disappearing into that shadows, I hear him leave from an unseen door. Now I'm alone.

I dont know how long I'm overwhelmed by the dark and the silence but it feels like it's been an eternity when I hear the door open again. He emerges from the void holding a small first aid kit? Thats new? Without a word, he takes out an antibacterial wipe and carefully drags it across each cut, causing me to whimper and hiss.

"You won't be leaving here for a while, can't have my new toy getting an infection"

His voice sounds softer somehow? After roughly ten minutes of wincing and gritting my teeth, my captor steps backwards and picks up a bottle of water from the chair. He opens it and holds it to my lips. Taking the biggest mouthful I can manage, I spit the water straight into his face, aiming for the gaps in the eyes and mouth of the mask. With another growl that causes war between my body and mind, he storms back out of the room with a "fine" and slams the door shut.