14

My brows knit, confusion warring with anxiety. Who the hell would be out here this late, on Christmas Eve, in the middle of nowhere? A thought flickers through my mind—maybe they can help. Maybe they have a phone with signal.

“Hey!” I call out, my voice cutting through the muffled quiet of the snow.

The figure doesn’t move as my boots crunching in place before I start trudging toward him, each step sinking deeper into the white blanket beneath me. The air grows colder, and heavier, the world narrowing to just the two of us. As I close the distance, the snowfall thins, and I can see him more clearly.

And then I freeze a few feet away.

He stands with his back to me, his posture unnervingly still, as if my presence barely registers. My gaze travels up his form—a pair of black, laced boots planted firmly in the snow, tight black jeans tucked into them, and a black leather jacket with a hood pulled over his head. Silver cursive embroidery gleams across his back, catching the faint light: The Plague.

A ripple of anxiety coils in my stomach.

“Could you help me, sir?” I try again, my voice wobbling despite my attempt to sound calm. “I need a phone. I can’t get signal here…”

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Then his gloved hands drop to his sides. One of them holds a long black cane, the shaft wrapped in white, flashing Christmas lights spiralling upward in a twisted mockery of holiday cheer.

Before I can process the bizarre detail, he moves. His head jerks sharply to the side, and I catch my first glimpse of his face—or what’s covering it.

A black matte mask, its surface smooth and shining, with a long, curved beak protruding outward and hollow eye sockets.

The plague doctor mask.

My breath catches, dread seeping into my veins.

“Didn’t your daddy ever teach you not to talk to strangers?” he asks, his voice terrifyingly deep and distorted by what appears to be a voice changer.

I step back instinctively, my boots slipping slightly on the ice. My breathing quickens, each inhale sharper than the last as the primal sense of danger washes over me.

Something’s wrong. Very fucking wrong.

The air changes and suddenly, he swivels, his movements fluid, and before I can react, he lunges. A scream tears from my throat as I spin on my heel, the snow bites at my legs. My boots try to gain grip as I run and aim for the woods, desperation and adrenaline propelling me forward.

Behind me, the crunch of snow grows louder. I dart through the trees that are layered in white, heart pounding, lungs burning, but no matter how fast I run, I feel him—closer with every step. A glance over my shoulder sends ice through my veins. He’s still following, his stride measured, unhurried, like he’s toying with me.

I veer sharply, pushing through the dense forest, branches clawing at my face and jacket. My sleeve catches on a thick branch, halting me with a sudden jolt. I wrench forward, hearing the fabric tear as my jacket is ripped from my body, leaving me in only my short dress. The cold bites instantly, seeping into my now bare skin.

“One, two, the plague is coming for you. Three, four, you better run, you whore,” he sings from a short distance, the twisted melody echoing through the trees.

Suddenly, I hear something else—bells. Faint at first but growing louder. A jingle that doesn’t belong here, doesn’t belong anywhere, eerily harmonised with the rhythm of his footsteps.

Panic surges before my boots slip on the slick ground, and I stumble hard, crashing into the snow. Pain cuts through my knees as I claw at the icy ground, desperate to rise, but my limbs feel heavy, sluggish. I push myself up, my arms weak, snow clinging to my skin as the bells grow deafening.

Then it stops completely as his shadow looms over me, and I freeze, every nerve screaming.

The sharp jab of his cane prods my back, and I lurch forward, the icy ground rushing up to meet my face. Snow burns against my skin as I roll onto my back, gasping for air. He’s there, towering above me, his breathless silence more oppressive than the cold.

The glowing cane presses against my throat and my chin lifts instinctively as the pressure cuts off my next breath.

“What do you want?” I whisper, the words trembling as they leave me, my chest rising and falling.

He tilts his head in response, the motion slow, calculated. Though the mask hides his expression, I can feel his eyes roaming over me, stripping me bare. The cane slides lower, deliberate and torturous, gliding down my neck and brushing between my breasts.

“Five, six, you’re gonna take my dick,” he murmurs, the eerie, distorted tune twisting into something vile and intimate. “Seven, eight, I know you cannot wait.”

My pulse spikes as his words sink in, the horrifying truth of what he wants slamming into me. His cane moves further down, skimming my stomach before dipping toward my thighs.

I clamp my legs together, locking them tight against the invasive movement. His cane presses harder, insistent, but I refuse to spread them.

“You’re fighting,” he murmurs, the unrecognizable voice dripping with mockery. “But I’ve already won. Now show me what I’ll be eating for Christmas dinner.”

I shake my head once, my eyes wide, heart hammering so loudly it drowns out the world around me.

“Don’t worry,” he says, his voice calm but laced with malice. “It’ll be our little secret. It always is. You don’t want me to make you, do you?”

My brows pinch, the world around me tilting further. The seconds tick by, each heavier than the last, the reality of the situation tightening around me. I can’t think. I can’t fucking process.

“Open. Your. Fucking. Legs,” he warns, his voice now sharp, each word slicing through the forest like a blade.

Instinct takes over, and without thinking, I twist onto my stomach, my body screaming to escape. I scramble onto all fours, but before I can move, he’s on me.

A scream tears from my throat as his gloved hand tangles in my hair, yanking me back with brutal force. The sound echoes through the area and he drops onto his knees behind me, dragging me back until I’m forced onto my knees between his thighs. My back slams into his chest, feeling the hard edges of his body.

The cane slides over the front of my throat, locking into place, and my head is forced back onto his shoulder. I clutch at the cane, my fingers clawing at it desperately, trying to stop the choking hold.

From the corner of my eye, I glimpse the beak of his mask, its shadowed eyes hollow, inhuman. His breath, harsh and ragged, echoes in my ear, mirroring my frantic gasps.

The danger is no longer a threat—it’s here, pressing into me, surrounding around me. His gaze drops to my chest, and though I can’t see his eyes, I feel the weight of it like a brand.

“I don’t want to just hurt you, snowflake,” he growls, the threat wrapped in a warped, almost personal tone. “I want to play with you while I'm doing it.”

“Doing what?” I gasp.

He doesn’t answer right away, the pause more horrifying than any words. The hunter in him enjoys the moment, savouring my fear like its fuel. He growls before removing the flashing cane, tosses it into the snow in front of us, but his gloved hand replaces it, wrapping tightly around my throat, keeping my head back against him.

His other hand presses down into the front of my dress, and my body tightens instantly. My hands shoot up to grab his wrist, preparing to scream from the assault. But when he grabs my breast, the grip is all too familiar—despite the gloves—and a whimper slips from my throat before I can stop it.

He toys with my nipple, pinching it between his fingers, and my back arches, the pain a cruel mix of pleasure and torment.

“Nine, ten, I’m gonna make you come again.” His voice is a low sneer in my ear, and my eyes flutter shut as my body betrays me, responding to the command.

“Rook…” I whisper, my voice broken. “What are you—”

I try to tug on his arm again, but his grip around my throat tightens, cutting off my words.

“Obedience isn’t an option, little sister.. It’s the only way you’re gonna survive me this Christmas."

I can’t respond. The cold, the fear, the sinful pleasure—it all merges into something I can't escape. His hand remains tight around my throat, suffocating the air from my lungs, while his other rips from my breast and moves between my legs from behind.

“Mine to break. Mine to shape. Mine to keep, with no escape.”

The sudden intrusion of his gloved fingers moving over my pussy has me gasping, my thighs clenching instinctively, but he doesn’t relent. He shoves them inside my hole with one hard, brutal plunge. I scream, my eyes snapping wide open, my back arching, but he only drives him further, opening me up. The leather fabric rams into me relentlessly and repeatedly, fucking me hard, each thrust a cruel reminder of how helpless I am.

His hand slides from my throat to my mouth, muffling my cries, the leather of his glove pressing against my lips. He fingerbangs me hard, the violent stretch forcing my body to double cross me. My climax builds fast, too fast, but just as I near the edge, he tears his fingers away in a single cruel motion. My body aches, throbbing with need, trembling from the sudden, hollow ache he’s left behind.

I hear it before I feel it: the metallic clink of his belt unbuckling, the sound loud in the frigid air. He works quickly, hungrily, his breath heavy in my ear, every exhale filled with urgency. When he reaches into his boxers, freeing himself, the cold doesn’t seem to bother him—it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating off his body, the way he presses the pierced tip of his cock against my entrance.

“Sink that perfect cunt onto me,” he growls, his voice thick with need.

I don’t refuse. I never fucking do when it comes to Rook. My body responds before my mind can resist, and I begin to take him in. Inch by inch, it feels too much after so long, his piercing scraping along my walls, but I keep going, my nails digging into his arm for balance.

With a savage motion, he grabs the hem of my dress, yanking it up and bunching it at my waist before pulling the neckline down hard enough to tear. My breasts bounce free, bare to the icy air as my brows knit together, fighting to take him deeper.

When I’m fully seated, my pussy completely full of his thick dick, the sensation sends a violent shudder through me. Rook doesn’t wait any longer. He grabs my breast roughly, his thumb grazing over my nipple as he squeezes hard enough to bruise, and the pain sends a rush of something dark and wicked coursing through me.

My hips begin to move, sliding up his length, leaving a trail of wetness in my wake until I feel the edge of him, then plunge back down.

I moan loudly, my voice a broken, desperate sound as I take him again and again, each thrust erasing the world around me, addicted to the feel of him. It doesn’t matter that I could be getting frostbite, or that I’m riding my big brother’s cock in the snowy woods on Christmas Eve. All that matters is the way he fills me, the way he consumes me, the way I keep coming back for more.

As my thrusts grow aggressive, my pussy slamming down on him with desperate rhythm, Rook suddenly shoves me forward, the motion so forceful I nearly fall face-first into the snow. My hands sink into the icy ground to steady myself, his cane casting flickering light over my body from underneath and my tits dangle freely, swaying with every panting breath.

He positions himself behind me, his grip on my waist like iron as he yanks me backward, arching my spine to his liking. When he eases his pants further down, I know there will be no mercy—only more length of his big dick and more of his pent-up hunger.

He doesn’t wait. There’s no hesitation, no compassion as I thought. He drags his cock back, before slamming it back inside me with such force that I cry out. His feral snarl reverberates through the forest at the same time as my shameful scream.

The pounding is ruthless, each drive deeper, harder, tearing into the core of me. My body trembles, every part of me pushed to my limit as he claims me again and again. My tits jump wildly from the power, my nipples grazing over the snow as if it’s a reminder of the icy world outside the molten chaos we’re creating. The heat between us burns hotter, wetter—I can feel it dripping down my thighs.

“Rook!” I scream, hoping to slow his pace, but he simply reaches over, his hand tangling in my hair with a savage yank that snaps my head back. I yelp but my pain only fuels his pleasure.

“Stay the fuck still and take it,” he scowls, his other hand pressing firmly on the middle of my back, bending me further, locking me in place as he smashes his cock into me with a vicious purpose. It’s almost unbearable, but my body seems to give itself over completely.

My legs shake violently with the strain, while my freezing fingers dig into the snow, curling into tight fists. Not able to hold any longer, my body explodes, shattering into a million pieces. Ecstasy crashes through me, and a cry tears from my throat.

Even as I spasm uncontrollably, my pussy clenching tight around his cock, Rook doesn’t slow down. No, he pushes through my intense orgasm, his rhythm sending me spiraling into another world entirely.

My vision blurs, the edges warping as the overstimulation devours me. The ground feels unsteady, the woods whirling, and I’m on the verge of collapse. But then, I feel it.

He presses deep, burying himself completely, and his cock swells, widening me further as a flood of heat surges inside me. His thick cum fills me, each hot pump pushing me closer to the periphery of a blackout.

A low, guttural growl escapes him, his body swaying from the force of release. His grip loosens suddenly, his fingers untangling from my hair, and I fall forward, tumbling into the ground, exhausted.

His cock slides out of my battered, cum-filled pussy, leaving me open and sore. I lie there, chest heaving, the snow beneath me melting. Even with my eyes closed, I can feel his green orbs observing, probably satisfied with the way he just ruined me. I hear his zipper pull up and then the fastening of his belt. Just when I think he's done with me and will take me home now, he does the opposite.

He stands, looming over me and sneaks his arm around the middle of my body. With little effort, he lifts my deadweight and slings me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing to him.

As he walks with me, my daze eyes open, and all I see is my long-wet hair swaying, his boots crunching over the snow and his lit-up cane. His arm strengthens around the back of my thighs for a second before his hand takes full advantage of the moment, grabbing my bare ass cheek before he delivers a sharp smack. I squeak, my body jerking, and he chuckles lowly.

Just when I’m about to ask him where the hell he’s taking me, I lift my head. I glance around, noticing it’s just woodland, no car in sight, not road and I’m confused, but my confusion is short lived as I suddenly hear metal doors opening.

He climbs inside the vehicle, and I am lowered onto what appears to be fur. As I look up, I see him hovering over me, the plague mask still intact, but it’s what's behind him that catches my attention. Christmas lights twinkle against chains on the ceiling of what appears to be a transit van, a simple mistletoe hanging in the middle. My brows pinch as I start to look around frantically. Tinted windows, fur blankets beneath me, a turned off heater.

“What the fuck, Rook?” I gasp, as I meet his black, hollowed eyes. “What is this?”

His head tilts slightly, the motion almost mocking. “It’s where we’ll be spending the night,” he responds, his voice calm but strange through the mask. “Together.”

He glances around, admiring his work like a disturbed artist admiring his masterpiece and his next words drip with menace. “Within the cold walls of this metal shell, bunny, there will be no silent night tonight—only an unholy night.”

My chest tightens, my breath quickening as I shake my head, trying to reason with him. “But Dad, he’ll—”

His warning growl slices through my protest as his eyes flash to mine. “Here we fucking go,” he sneers, his tone drenched in scorn. “Ebony has the rare opportunity to spend Christmas alone with her brother, and she’s too wrapped up in daddy’s chains to be a woman and make her own fucking decisions.”

The fury in his words ignites a spark of rage in me, and my eyes squint, the tension crackling between us. “But little does she know…” His masked face dips lower, the sharp tip of the beak pressing against my lips. “She has no fucking choice. My sister is mine tonight. All. Mine. All. Fucking. Night. And she will be an obedient little slut for me.”

I shake my head once, defiance building in my chest, but he doesn’t want to hear it. Without a word, he withdraws, slipping out of the van. I sit up quickly, my breath hitching as the doors slam behind him, the click of the lock sealing me inside.

Through the tinted window, I watch as he stalks around to the front, his dark silhouette moving through the snowfall. My gaze shifts, and I realize the front of the van is blocked off completely.

A low snarl escapes me, frustration mounting, until the engine roars to life. The van lurches forward, and I steady myself, my eyes darting to the chains and Christmas lights swaying ominously above me.

What the fuck is this?

I yank my dress down over my legs and tug the fabric up to cover my exposed tits, my heart hammering as I scramble to my knees, desperate to see where he’s taking me.

The landscape rushes past until, suddenly, the frozen expanse of a lake comes into view. My heart stutters, cold dread gripping me tight. Memories attack my mind of the Christmas I fell into one. The icy water swallowing me whole, my lungs burning, my frantic struggles to find a way out. I almost fucking drowned that day, saved at the last possible moment. And Rook... he’s never forgiven himself for not being the one to pull me out.

The van jerks to a stop, reversing until the back rests dangerously close to the lake’s edge. I don’t need to ask what he’s fucking doing—I know his game. Asshole. He thinks this will trap me, that fear will keep me confined.

Yeah, we’ll see about that.

The engine cuts off, plunging the van into silence. I rise to my feet, my body hunched beneath the low roof, every muscle coiled as I watch him approach the back doors. My pulse thunders as I see his shadow moving closer, and the second he swings the doors open, I lunge forward with a scream, slamming into him with all my weight.

He grunts as his boots skid on the ice, the momentum sending him crashing backward with a hard thud. I land on top of him, the ice beneath us cracking dangerously.

I laugh breathlessly, excitement and fear mixing as I prepare to crawl off him, but his hands clamp down on my waist, making me immobile.

“Let me go, asshole!” I thrash against his grip, kicking and twisting, but he’s far too strong as always.

His arms tighten around my back like steel bands, and with a low, dark snicker, he begins to rise, lifting me.

“You ain’t escaping that easily, bunny,” he taunts, his voice laced with wicked amusement.

I go insane, my body fighting as I scream, but he doesn’t give a shit. Without a care, he climbs back into the van and forces me inside with him.

I land on my knees and before I can do anything else, he yanks a chain down from the ceiling. The metal clinks and rattles as my arms are wrenched upward, the freezing links locking around my wrists, suspending me in place.

I’m trapped.

My chest heaves with panicked breaths, but he doesn’t stop there. As if to strip away any last shred of dignity, he grabs the fabric of my dress and, in one brutal motion, rips it from my body. Then grabs Blaise's hairclip and tears it from my scalp, tossing it aside.

I gasp, the shock of the sudden exposure sending a wave of humiliation crashing over me. Naked, I sit there, vulnerable and bound, every inch of me laid bare under his ruthless gaze. His hand suddenly grips my face, his fingers cruelly pinching my cheeks, forcing my lips into a tight line.

“Fucking stop it.” His voice is a low growl, filled with warning and threat. He releases my face with a sharp shove, pushing my head to the side.

I shake my head, trying to move the strands of hair from my eyes. I watch, helpless, as he removes his leather jacket, the material sliding off his shoulders with ease. He’s shirtless now, his tatted skin rippling under the dim light of the van. My chest tightens as my gaze unwillingly traces over his muscular body; my breath lodged in my throat.

I close my thighs as soon as I feel his cum starting to leak out of me and sit back on my knees and he leans back against the cold, metal shell of the van, one knee bent lazily, the other leg stretched out in front of him.

His posture is relaxed, almost as if he’s enjoying the moment, watching me struggle beneath his control. The doors of the van hang wide open, the freezing cold air pouring in and seeps into my bones. I feel my nipples harden, my lips turning an angry shade of blue.

The silence draws out as he stares at me from behind that mask and I stare back.

“What’s with the mask? Why are you doing this?”

He thinks about my question for a moment, then responds calmly.

“Remember when you called me The Plague last time I saw you two years ago, bunny? Said I was nothing but a fucking disease that infects everything I touch—even your soul?” He breathes against the cold air before continuing, “Yeah… I remember too. But now I’m back to finish what I started. Consequences be damned.”

I swallow, feeling my body fall with defeat, that night coming back at me all at once.