Page 54 of Unlocked Desire: Vol One
Vance is standing there, his bare chest exposed. The intricate tattoos on his back appear dangerous and alluring. A man doesn’t have the right to be so goddamn beautiful.
“You can come closer, Little Bird.” Vance’s voice creeps through the room like a caress against my skin.
I step closer; Vance is panting, and his body is coated in a sheen of sweat. My mouth waters at the thought of licking it off him. I place my hand on his shoulder. He sighs and drops his head.
Panic hits me in the chest. Vance doesn’t turn to look at me. He doesn’t make a smart-ass comeback or try to get me wet with his words and his voice.
My mouth is dry. I can barely swallow. I drop my hand and turn to leave, but a firm hand wraps around my wrist.
“Don’t go, Little Bird.”
Vance’s voice strained. The confident man is exposed, and I’m getting a glimpse of his vulnerable side. A side I’m sure he rarely, if ever, shows anyone.
“Are you all right?” I ask, not sure what else to say.
“Only when you’re near me.”
I glance down at his hand, holding my wrist tightly, but not so tight it hurts. It’s the kind of pressure that feels good. I’m not sure what it is about this man, but being with him is terrifying and exhilarating. My whole life, I’ve wanted someone to want me, care for me, protect, and cherish me. In a few days, this man has done all of those things.
I know he’s not a good person; one might even say he’s psychotic. Yet as I stand in front of him, lost in the depths of his blue eyes. The only thing that can bring him to his knees is me, and it makes me want him no matter the consequences. The truth is, he has nothing to worry about because he’s trapped me in his web. I can’t get out, even if I wanted to.
“I’m not going anywhere, Vance.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see it. Blood. At first, I think it’s from carving my name into his arm, but there’s too much blood. It’s the amount of blood you’d see in a horror movie after the murderer brutally stabs someone multiple times.
My eyes shift to his other hand, and I see the knife. A drop of blood lands on his face, followed by another.
Vance must notice the fear in my eyes because he drops my hand and hangs his head. “This is who I am, Little Bird. It’s all I know how to do.”
My eyes follow the drops above us, and that’s where I see him. Roy, dead with multiple slashes deeply embedded by a sharp object: the knife wielded by Vance’s hand.
Vance notices me looking at the knife and places it on the metal table beside him with the other torture devices. I’m not sure what they all are, but none look pleasant.
“What’s going on?” As soon as I ask the question, I know how dumb it sounds.
What’s going on is that Vance carved up Roy like a prime roast. A typical reaction to this is running, screaming, and praying a kind stranger picks you up on the side of the road before the psycho chops you up. Still, I discovered long ago that I wasn’t normal.
“He hurt you.” Vance shrugs as if killing random people for hurting me is normal. “He likes to beat on women. Someone should have put the dog down a while ago. Might have been still breathing had he not crossed me, but he made the mistake of touching what belongs to me.”
Vance steps toward me. The vulnerability in his eyes a moment ago is completely gone, replaced with conviction and rage. He rubs his thumb along my bottom lip, and the simple touch makes me wet. He leans in, whispering in my ear, “I told you. No one touches what’s mine. If you don’t want it to happen again, you better make sure no one touches you.”
“I should run,” I say, my eyes fluttering closed, my voice barely a whisper, my body incredibly responsive to his touch.
“But you won’t,” Vance says, pressing his body against mine. His cock nudges my stomach, sending heat spiraling through me. “Will you, Little Bird?”
His question comes out as a demanding growl, like he’s telling me who’s in charge.
“No.” I pant with so much need for this man that I might die from it.
Vance puts his arm around me. “Let’s go back to the cabin.”
We walk in silence, my only thoughts of him, of how safe I am with his arm wrapped around my shoulder, and how the only time I’ve ever felt loved is in the arms of a killer.
As we walk into the bedroom, Vance immediately removes his pants. I can’t help but stare at his sheer size. The man is an anaconda. Vance chuckles, leaning against the dresser, his tattooed arms crossed over his massive chest. The man is too good-looking.
“Like the view, Little Bird?”
I lick my lips, confirming that I do. I like the view very much, but my throat is too dry to utter a word. He has no inhibitions, not at all fazed by his dick on display as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.