Page 11 of Consumed By Fire

“You are out of line.” She points at Octane. “What are you going to do? Are you going to keep her locked up in here with you forever?”

“No, I’m not. I’ll keep her for as long as it takes to get the info I need or until her child is born.”

“What does her child have to do with anything?” Kim flaps her hands while she speaks.

“I’m keeping it if she doesn’t give me the answers I need.” Octane folds his arms across his massive chest.

“Are you freaking insane?” Kim shouts. “This is all kinds of wrong.”

“It is a little…much,” Blaze stammers. “You don’t mean it, do you, Octane?”

“A little much? It’s disgusting even to say such a thing, let alone to go through with it!” Kim yells.

Blaze cups his mate’s jaw. “He won’t go through with it, babe.” His voice is soft and caressing. “It’s a scare tactic. Tell her, Octane.” His eyes are pleading.

“Of course I mean it. It’s not a scare tactic. I will give the Red every opportunity to tell us some very basic information, but if she doesn’t oblige, then her child is mine as payment.” He glances at me. “We’ve had this little chat. The Red knows the score. She knows I am very fucking serious.” He winks at me, and I glower at him.

Asshole!

“He doesn’t mean it,” Blaze insists.

“He does mean it. You can see he means it. You’re insane, do you know that?” Kim tells Octane.

“You can call me whatever you like; just do it somewhere else,” he tells her.

Kim tries to launch herself at him, but Blaze holds her back. “No, Kim. Don’t! It won’t do any good.”

“You might break a nail…or your hand. I wouldn’t feel a thing,” Octane says.

“You are the biggest prick I have ever met!” Kim shouts.

“Geeeeeee, thanks.” He palms his cock. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He winks at Kim, who starts screaming in an incoherent fashion.

“Stop being such an asshole!” Blaze growls at Octane. Then he picks up his mate and walks her out of the bungalow. Kim keeps shouting obscenities at Octane all the while. We can still hear her long after the door has shut.

“She’s annoying.”

“I think she’s nice,” I tell him. “She’s also right. Anyone who even threatens to steal another person’s baby is insane.”

“All you have to do is talk to me, and this all goes away. You can go back to your mate and live your life, raise your kid. Play happy fucking families.”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs. “I’m going to shower. Don’t try anything stupid, or you’ll be joining me in there tomorrow.” He points at the bathroom door. “I can make this so much worse on you without hurting you.” He levels me with a stare. I know he means it, too.

“I won’t try anything,” I mumble, feeling annoyed.

Then he turns and walks away, leaving the bathroom door open just a crack.

I’m breathing hard. My face feels hot. I look around the bungalow. I’m so tempted to run, but that would never work. I try to think of all the scenarios. I rack my brain, trying to come up with something, anything that wouldn’t involve putting my unborn child at risk. I keep hitting blanks. There’s always someone posted outside our bungalow. They patrol around the unit. They would hear me and chase after me. Even if I shifted, I wouldn’t get very far before I was outrun and forced to return. I know that there are others patrolling the whole camp as well. I wouldn’t get far at all.

I sigh. I suppose it could be worse. I could be tied up in a jail cell. Octane could be starving and beating me. I flop back down on the chair and pick up my book. I start reading, not really taking anything in.

Then I hear it. A low groan. It’s coming from the bathroom. It has all of my nerve endings firing off. It has my skin tightening and my heart racing. It’s a groan of pure pleasure. It’s Octane. He is touching himself right now. I know it. The groan is deep and low, but I hear it clear as day.

My body responds, even though I don’t want it to. My nipples tighten. I feel something low in my belly. Something that feels too much like need for my liking.

Octane is an asshole. He has me locked up against my will and has threatened to steal my child from me, and here I am, getting turned on by the sound of him coming. I know that’s what it is. His groan deepens, and I feel a zing between my legs. I want to touch myself, too. What’s wrong with me? There has to be something wrong for me to be reacting to him.