Chapter Ten

Raven

The bathroom feels even smaller in the dark, the cold seeping into my bones as I sit pressed against the radiator. Midnight is curled up beside me, her soft purring the only sound to keep me company. My head rests on the metal, and my eyes are heavy with tiredness, but my thoughts won’t stop racing.

When will he come back? What if something happened to him? What if I’m left here to rot?

I try to shake the thoughts away, closing my eyes briefly, when suddenly, a loud bang echoes from somewhere downstairs. My head snaps up, my heart jolting before hammering wildly in my chest.

The room feels suffocatingly silent as I try to hear anything else. Then it comes—the gradual thud of footsteps, each one heavier than the last. Something drags along the floorboards, the noise grating against the quiet like nails on a chalkboard. I stop breathing as my wide, fearful eyes lock onto the door.

The footsteps stop outside, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still. The doorknob turns, agonizingly slow until it finally cracks open, and a flickering light spills into the room. My body tenses as the glow grows brighter, illuminating his silhouette.

His head is bowed as he steps inside, and I instantly notice his shirtless body is drenched in blood, streaks of crimson covering his arms, chest, and face. His black jeans are smeared with dark stains, and his boots leave muddy prints in his wake. In his other hand, he drags a bloodied axe, the blade gleaming even beneath its macabre coating.

He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t even say a word. He strides across the room with a strange calmness, as if the blood on him is nothing more than spilled paint. He sets the large candle on the floor in the far corner, its flame dancing.

I can’t tear my eyes away from him as I pull my legs in closer to my chest, and rest my chin on my knees, trying to make myself as small as possible. Midnight stirs beside me, letting out a soft mew, but I don’t dare move.

What the fuck has he done now? Where has he been? Who’s fucking blood is that? My questions whirl in my mind, but I’m too scared to ask. Too afraid to do anything but watch him.

Ty’s head tilts slightly, just enough for his gaze to pierce through the strands of black hair hanging over his eyes. His expression is blank, but the sinister energy radiating from him is suffocating, heavy enough to crush the air from my lungs.

He turns his body, moving toward me as the screech of the axe drags along the tiles, sharp and grating.

When he reaches me, he just drops to his knees in front of me, his towering frame casting shadows over me. Midnight bolts out of the room as soon as the handle of the axe hits the floor, the jingle of her collar fading quickly as she disappears into the night.

My heart leaps at the sound, and I instinctively yank at the handcuffs in desperation, the cold bite of the metal cutting into my already sore wrists, but Ty’s unsettling presence drags my attention back to him.

I can see the gleam in his menacing eyes as he lifts his chin, his hand moving to the buckle of his belt. My heart pounds harder, my mind racing to process what’s happening, even as my body refuses to move. His intentions are clear, undeniable.

“Spread your fucking legs as wide as you can,” he demands, and I just stare at him, stiff.

When I don’t obey, his fingers slide down the zipper of his jeans, the sound unnervingly loud in the silence between us.

“You either do it or I’ll cut them the fuck off and look at your pretty cunt anyway. It’s your choice, Raven.”

“Are you going to rape me?” The words leave my lips in a breathless whisper, a tear tracing the curve of my cheek.

I never thought I’d find myself here, wondering if the man I once saw as my protector against Billy and Mike is now the one who threatens to break me. Strangely, my heart hurts with disappointment and I don’t know why.

“No, Kitten. I’d never,” he murmurs, his deep voice smooth, but there’s something menacing beneath it. “I just need to see you,” he groans, tugging and adjusting his hard cock in his jeans, “I need to see your pussy so fucking badly.”

My eyes drop to where his hand disappears inside the waistband of his black boxers and my pulse stutters. Fuck . He wants to get off over me.

What the hell is happening?

The blood, the candlelight, the intensity in his stare—it’s all pushing me, pulling me, a magnetic force that makes it harder to fight. Maybe if I give him what he wants, it’ll somehow be my ticket out. Or maybe I’m just fooling myself.

I force my throat to work, swallowing against the dryness that’s taken over. My legs tremble as I gradually and stupidly part them, letting them fall wide open, each movement feeling like a surrender I can’t stop.

His gaze falls to my exposed pussy as soon as I obey, and I watch his reaction shift. His eyes darken, pupils dilating, and his lids lower just enough to show a flicker of something hungry. His lips part slightly with a small exhale escaping him as his hand moves, tugging at his hard cock. When he yanks it out of his boxers, my eyes lock on the way his large, bloodied hand grabs it—big, thick, veiny, heavy. Fucking mouthwatering perfection. The sight commands my attention, like a gravity I can’t resist.

As his hand begins to move up and down, unhurried at first, the skin pulls back to show the slick precum at the tip, and the reveal of his arousal burns into me.

Something stirs deep inside, unwelcome but undeniable. Heat blooms low in my belly, spreading like wildfire consuming me. I try to smother it, to shove it back into the dark corners of my mind, knowing this is wrong, but every stroke of his hand, each quickening motion, destroys something inside me.

His eyes roam over me—my face, my body, lingering on my pussy like a hunter wanting to taste its victim. I can see it in his gaze: the fantasizing, the wanting, the claiming. And worse, I feel it in myself. Fuck. Why is this turning me on so much?

My eyelids grow heavy, weighted with a desire I can’t seem to control. The pressure in my core builds to a near-unbearable peak, and then I feel it—come slipping out of my hole, a response I can’t stop even if I tried. It’s humiliating, intoxicating, and uncontrollable all at once.

He’s fucking doing something to me, something that bends my body against my will. The way his eyes rake over me, dark and consuming, feels like a touch—like he’s already deep inside me without laying a hand on my skin.

He sees it—sees everything. The way my chest rises and falls in sync with his, the way my legs tense each time his hand slides down his solid dick before coming back up.

He knows. Knows how my thoughts are just as disturbing as his.

After what feels like an eternity of his gaze fixed on my core, he begins to edge toward me on his knees. The edging sends a shiver through me, but I don’t flinch. I can’t. Every part of me seems to welcome him.

In seconds, he’s between my spread legs, his free hand splaying flat on the floor beside me, grounding himself as his weight presses closer. My head tilts back instinctively, his face hovering inches above mine, his lips so near I can almost taste the heat of his breath.

“I see your cunt is weeping for me, little kitten.” He groans.

His strokes grow harder, faster, the sound sharp in the thick silence, and the cold air between us ripples against my exposed pussy. My body arches involuntarily, a desperate response I can’t control. He’s pleasuring himself while I’m left here—my hands cuffed to this damn radiator, helpless to do anything but watch. The unfairness of it sears through me.

“Kiss me, Ty. It’ll make you cum harder.” I say, my words breathily and alluringly.

His gaze flickers to my mouth, lingering there before meeting my eyes again. He licks his lips lightly, then tilts his head to close the gap between us without hesitation. My eyes flutter shut just as his lips brush against mine—soft at first, featherlight, like a warning. Then, they press firmly, and the connection fires a shiver cascading through me, tingling from head to toe.

Our lips part, and his tongue slips into my mouth, unsure at first, before meeting mine in a clash of heat and urgency. The taste of him floods my senses—tobacco, blood, and something darker.

The kiss deepens, gradually growing feral, and our tongues battle for dominance. He’s ruthless, but a damn good kisser who leaves me panting and desperate for more. His hand tangles in my red hair, grabbing a fistful and yanking my head back, exposing my throat and pulling me further into him. He shoves his tongue deeper inside, almost reaching my tonsils, a low growl reverberating in his chest as his control frays from the taste of me.

Then I feel it—the head of his cock brushing against my pussy. The contact sends a jolt through me, my legs twitching before my hips buck toward him, drawn by the sensation. He drags it over my clit, his movements more eager now as he jerks himself off harder. His heavy breaths fan across my lips, but he doesn’t stop, he kisses me again, hungrier this time, as if devouring me isn’t enough.

The moment is raw, charged, and something about knowing this might be the first time he has ever had his cock on pussy, makes me feel things, things I haven’t felt before.

His dick slides down my wet slit torturously, until he nudges just the tip inside my soaked hole. The stretch is small but so frustrating, a tease that has my brows knitting together as my body strains.

He holds back, refusing to give me more, his control the only thing that matters. He’s making me want him and it’s fucking working. His mouth claims mine with a bruising dominance, his kiss as punishing as it is everything I want, all while he continues to toy with me—only giving me the head of his cock, nothing more.

The torment overwhelms me, his shallow thrusts coaxing moans from deep in my chest, muffled against his lips. The sound of my wetness echoing into the room betrays how he’s unravelling me, piece by piece.

And then, suddenly, I feel it—his cum, hot and powerful, shooting into me and coating my walls as his body tenses against mine. The tip swells inside me, a maddening pulse just a few centimetres away from the spot where I ache for him most. The pressure coils stronger, a silent plea building inside me, but he doesn’t move deeper—doesn’t give me what I need.

His forehead presses against mine as a growl escapes his throat, steadying himself in the aftermath of his release, his breath hectic and rough as it fans across my lips.

When he’s finished, his dark eyes slowly open, locking onto mine. We hold each other’s gaze, scanning for something neither of us says aloud. The silence stretches thin, and just as I think I might speak, he pulls away without a word.

The sudden absence of his heat is jarring, and I feel cold, exposed. My legs instinctively draw together as he tucks himself back into his pants and rises. He grabs his axe, turns and strolls away, leaving me alone. I listen out for him as my mind spirals—questioning my life choices, what comes next—while my body deceives me, still desperate to come.

When he returns, Midnight is perched on his shoulder, her claws digging into his skin, but the pain doesn’t seem to bother him. Instead, he drags my suitcase into the room and my brows knit together in confusion while shifting my gaze between him and the suitcase.

“You went to my house?” I ask quietly.

He nods, “Stopped by on my way back here. Figured you’d probably need your girly shit and fresh clothes,” he says blankly before stepping toward me.

My body stiffens as he crouches but with a soft click, my wrists are free before he shoves the cuffs into his pocket. I pull my arms forward, wincing as I rub the sore skin. I glance up at him, searching his face for answers I’m not sure I want.

“Clean yourself up, freckles. I’ll be back.”

I blink expressionlessly at him, my mind numb before his hand lands on the side of my head, his thumb sweeping across my cheek with an eerie tenderness.

“Be a good girl for me and the cuffs will start to be non-existent. You can be beside me freely.”

I feel like he’s testing me, and despite the fear tightening in my chest, I’m oddly willing to play along. I give a small, reluctant nod in response. Ty watches me for a second longer as if searching for something hidden, but when he finally seems satisfied, he stands and takes Midnight with him, leaving the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

I stand on unsteady legs, trying to make sense of everything that just happened between us before I move toward the sink, hoping to get washed and into some fresh clothes.