Page 90 of Deadmen's Queen
“How do we find her?”
“The van is our best link,” said Bast. He tapped the description into the browser on his phone and brought up stock images. “I think this is what Tristan was describing,” he said, turning the screen round and showing me a picture of a maroon coloured van.
I frowned. “I think I’ve seen that van before. Around campus.”
“He was probably following her,” said Bast, looking down at the screen. “Actually, you’re right. I’m sure I’ve seen it too… the art room.”
“The art room?”
He nodded. “Definitely. I’ve seen it parked outside the art department when I’ve been there to pick Paige up. It was there a few times.”
“So maybe it belongs to someone there?” I suggested, hope sparking deep inside me. “Any Reapers in that department?”
“Not this year, but George Monroe is fucking that girl who’s doing photography.” Bast was already sliding the call icon across on the screen.
“Monroe, it’s Blake. I need you to call Susanne for me right now. She’s with you? Good. I’m sending you a picture. Wake her up and ask her if she knows any of the students in the art department that drive a van like this one.”
He tapped the screen, sending the photo, and put it back to his ear. After a moment, he nodded.
“Thanks, Monroe. And go give that girl the best head she’s ever had. She’s earned it.”
Bast hung up and turned to me, his expression cold and hard. I knew that face well, and the darker side of me felt a flicker of excitement. There was going to be blood spilled today.
“So, which student is it?”
“Oh, that van doesn’t belong to a student. Or a professor.”
“So, who the fuck does it belong to?”
Chapter Thirty Two
UNKNOWN
I can’t believe you’re finally here, Paige. Finally in my house, in my bed. You look so peaceful lying there, your hands pulled up above your head, making those perfect breasts tip up so invitingly. I run my hand down over them, pinching hard on your nipple to make it stand up. You moan, but you don’t wake up. I must have hit you harder than I thought.
I hope you're dreaming about me. The way I've dreamt about you every night. I run my fingers down your pale stomach, your body jerking slightly at my touch. I love it when you squirm, when your eyes flutter open to take a peek at the darkness surrounding us. But you always fall back into that darkness, not ready to join me yet. I can wait.
I move lower, my fingers grazing across your stomach, feeling the tremors already starting under my touch. You're so responsive even in sleep. I can't wait to see how much better it will be when you’re awake and screaming. My cock throbs at the thought, hard and ready. But I can’t yet. Not right now. I need to wait until you’re looking at me. I want to watch your eyes when I take you.
The chains around your delicate wrists rattle softly whenever you shift in your sleep. Such a sweet sound, it brings me comfort to know that you are bound here, to me. Your soft muscles tense beneath my touch and I can’t help but slide my fingers through those golden curls between your legs.
I feel an undeniable urge to claim you right now, with your body willingly submitting under my hands. But I resist... barely. You're too precious for me to ruin all at once. And we have all the time in the world, Paige. It’s just you and me now.
I'll take my time, savouring each torment, marvelling at the way your body bends and breaks to my touch. I want to see you shatter, falling apart just so I can put you back together - the way I want you to be.
I have watched you for so long, Paige. Craved you with an intensity that scared me at times. And here you are now, mine to possess and control.
A low groan escapes my lips as I dip a finger inside you. So wet. So warm. You're perfect, Paige. And now you’re mine.
A soft whimper escapes from your closed lips as I continue to toy with you. You’re stirring now, eyes starting to flutter as you slowly come to. You scan the room wildly, your gaze finally landing on me. Your eyes widen in fear, and it makes me so fucking hard. The sound of the chains that rattle as you try and pull away from my touch. Your frantic gasps fill the room, echoing off the cold, stone walls. It’s music to my ears.
"Welcome home, Paige."
Chapter Thirty Three
PAIGE
My head ached so badly that I didn’t want to open my eyes. Dimly, I struggled to remember what had happened, why my head hurt. The unfamiliar scent of lavender and something sharp, like cleaning fluid, stung my nose, sending a spike of pain through my head. I took a breath, and then another, and finally forced my eyes open.