21

GARETH Kayden is right. I should’ve killed him. Why didn’t I do that, again? Because I can’t prove him right. I can’t allow him to confirm any of the theories he has about me. Not him, of all fucking people. But that ended up with me against a tree. Trapped under him again. Being touched by him again. Completely surrounded by him. Fucking again. And he knocked my bow and quiver away, so I have nothing to stab him with. My mask squashes against the tree, and the smell of pine floods my nostrils, but it pales in comparison to his smell. The tones of wood and amber provoke dark, fucked-up images that visit me in my dreams. No, nightmares. Images of him biting and marking my flesh, making me come against his cock. Spitting cum in my mouth and forcing me to swallow. I’ve thought of killing him every time I’ve seen the dark purple hickeys all over my chest. I even considered just hiring an outsider to do it and then sending me the footage. But for some reason, that didn’t sound satisfying. N