I walk in the store, the air is thick with leather, walls covered in temptation. My eyes wander, calculating, already picturing him in every piece. What to get… what will rattle him most?
Scarlet lingerie catches my eye—delicate lace meant for softness, not a lad like him. Perfect. I’ll make him wear it, watch the shock bloom across his pretty face as he realizes there’s no escape but surrender. He’ll pull it on for me, trembling, and still look devastatingly mine.
Then the ropes. A full set in black velvet, soft enough to caress, strong enough to restrain. One for each limb. And of course, a matching gag—something to silence those protests, to turn every muffled groan into music only I get to hear.
That’ll do, for now. Enough to strip him of Charlie’s golden façade, enough to remind him who he belongs to. He’ll thank me with his whimpers, squirming and grateful for every inch of generosity I grant him.
But my Lover Boy won’t understand until it’s too late that the gift isn’t the velvet binding his wrists or the silk brushing his skin. The true gift is me.
It’s the privilege of being chosen. The privilege of kneeling beneath my gaze, of receiving the blessed sacrament I’ll bestow upon him. To taste me, to swallow what no one else will ever be offered, to let my seed root itself inside him until it burns away all petty thoughts of escape.
Because in the end, only I can be his salvation. I am the current running through him, the electrical impulse that commands his heart. It beats when I allow it, stutters when I will it, and one day—if I choose—it will stop altogether. His life is already wired into mine, tethered by something deeper than blood or bone.
He doesn’t see it yet, but soon he will. Every gasp he takes, every thrum of his pulse, every shiver racing his spine—it all answers to me.
Chapter 14
Austin
Theforestisabsentof feathered chirps, my feet snapping the twigs and padding the pine needles deeper into the earth. I can’t help but look back at the sound of every breeze gliding through the canopy. Making sure that no one is trailing me, that Drew isn’t stalking me from behind an enormous cottonwood, plotting to kidnap and blindfold me to bring me back to his lair full of God knows what kind of devilish trinkets.
Last night I made it to Ely, adrenaline fueling my way north, knuckles losing their color from how tight I gripped the steering wheel. I spent the night tossing and turning in the white beamer, parked in a gas station parking lot that closed at 7 PM.
It is a struggle to keep my eyes open this morning. I may have managed a couple hours at most. When you have to rest with one eye open it doesn’t allow for the best beauty sleep. Pair that with paranoia ringing through my skull like a telemarketer who won’t stop calling… well you get the idea.
My head swivels at every creak of the tamarack trees, the spongy ground hardly providing much foundation for their roots.
Earlier this morning, I swiped one of my father’s credit cards, buying a single-person kayak, large enough room to fit my bag and not much else.
The Boundary Waters are a slew of pristine wilderness, old-growth forest mixed with an endless number of sprawling lakes. Impossible to navigate by any means besides a canoe or kayak. A few packs of wolves roam the woods, but they are nothing to worry about compared to the real predator on my tail.
The air shifts with an ill wind. I couldn’t see him, but I know he’s on his way, like a bloodhound that won’t lose the scent. A madman with his target set on my back, crazed with the infatuation of sinking his teeth in my flesh.
But I’m not going to buckle. Not to his words, or his sinister touch. No matter how close he presses, no matter what tricks he uses to twist my body against me. I won’t give him that satisfaction. No way in fucking hell.
I’d rather watch him unravel, screaming in pure rage, than concede to his sinful fantasies. Better to let him choke on his own desire than feed it. Whatever he dreams of doing to me will stay locked in his head, rotting there, because I refuse to make his tormented reverie my reality.
My feet trudge along the swampy trail for what seems like hours under the ominous gloom of the sky. Clouds threatening to unleash their droplets, their contour a heavy hue of gray. My ears pick up the rumbles of thunder in the distance. Not very welcoming conditions for my first day in the wilderness, to say the least.
I suppose I should set up camp, before I’m drenched in nature’s piss. My eyes stumble across an inviting clearing, large enough for my two-person tent, a fire pit already embellished in the ground with some decent-sized rocks.
Before I know it, my boy scout skills prove themselves handy, I pop the tent, starting a small fire in between the stones for a bit of warmth before the downpour wreaks havoc on my temperature.
Christ, I should have brought a book or a crossword, something to occupy my mind, instead of letting thoughts of him fester in my brain like a million abscesses harboring infection all at once.
My mind’s stuck in a labyrinth, trying to find my way out, but honestly a mouse would have a better chance than me.
How comical. I laugh at myself out loud, the sound serrated and crazed, like some lunatic imprisoned in an asylum. To imagine only days ago my biggest stressor was my father marrying Jackson. That felt catastrophic enough—world ending in itself.
To now being stalked by my boyfriend’s psycho twin brother. Oh, how the tables have turned.
When life throws you acid-soaked water balloons and they burst across your skin, eating your flesh alive, what else can you do but curl up and sob? Perhaps shrivel into your insulated sleeping bag, praying for the faintest smidge of comfort, daydream that all of this will go away as I wander into fairyland.
As the tears stream down my cheekbones, the rain begins to spat against the canvas of the tent, resembling the shatters of bullets. Winds increasing in ferocity, wailing savagely through the treebranches. Timberwolves baying in the distance. A chorus that makes the whole wilderness feel complicit in my fear.
What did I do to deserve this? To deserve my very own stalker?
One that is irresistible in all physical aspects, but is a monster in mind and soul. But maybe his warmth would soothe my ache, how terrible could his arms be?
