Something touches my thigh, and my head whips around to see the guy on my ass. I shove him in the chest.
“Hey …” He stumbles back.
My eyes narrow on him. Is he drunk? “I’m not going to tell you again to quit fucking touching me.” This guy is really testing me. And today is not the day.
He licks his lips, and his brown eyes fall to my thighs. I’m wearing black yoga pants with a white T-shirt that has an open shark mouth on it that reads eat me in red. Deke got it for me for Christmas. I have no makeup on, and my hair is up in a messy bun. I did not come out tonight to impress anyone. I’m out with my girlfriends because I’m pissed at my husband, and this guy is about to get my foot up his ass. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”
His brown eyes make their way up to mine. “I know, but with a body like that, I can’t resist.”
This motherfucker! “You—”
“Come on, Austin.” Demi interrupts me and grabs my hand. Then she whispers in my ear, “Let’s lose them.”
Brynn takes my other hand and pulls me out of that scene. Their laughter carries down the tunnel until it just stops.
We come to an opening; the narrow passage widens to what looks to be the original concrete walls of the tunnel. With stuff written on the wall in fake blood. You’ll die here. Don’t look behind you. Hell is waiting for you.
I snort at the last one. If only they knew that I married the devil.
A hand grips my ass, and my teeth grind. I’ve had enough. I spin around, lift my hand and go to slap the motherfucker, but he’s faster. He catches my wrist, and his fingers tighten. I look up into a set of familiar blue eyes. “What the fuck, Cole?” I shout and yank out of his hold.
He says nothing. I look around, not seeing the three jackasses who were behind us, but I do see Shane and Deke. Pushing my hip out, I cross my arms over my chest. “Why are you here?”
Shane goes to hug Brynn, but she takes a step back. “I’m mad at you,” she states.
“What did I do?” he asks through a laugh.
She looks at Cole, then back at Shane. “Enough.”
He rolls his eyes, grabs her hand, and yanks her down a small hallway off to the left that had spiderwebs covering the entrance. Her laughter follows, and I know I’ve lost her.
Cole stands before me in a pair of blue jeans and a plain black T-shirt. His dark hair is spiked, and his face is clean shaven. His hands are tucked in the pockets of his jeans. His face is devoid of any emotion, but I know he’s mad at me. The tic in his chiseled jaw gives him away. Too bad I don’t give a fuck.
Demi hooks her arm into mine and spins us around. She tosses her hair over her shoulder, and we begin walking again.
“Cute, princess,” Deke calls out to her with a chuckle.
We both ignore him. There’s an opening over to the right, and we take it. The walls look made of human bones. Demi reaches out with her free hand and runs her fingers along them.
I look over my shoulder and see nothing. They’re not following us, which could only mean one thing. They’re up to something. “Motherfucker.” I hiss.
“What?” Demi asks.
“They’re here to fuck with us.” I sigh. Not in the mood. I’m pissed off at Cole, and he wants to play some stupid game. Typical.
Demi looks over at me, and a smile covers her softly lit face. “Then let’s play.” She releases my arm and spins around. Walking backward, she grabs her long bleach blond hair and starts putting it up in a messy ponytail with the hair tie around her wrist. “I’ll meet you at the exit.”
Then there was one.
I stand in the middle of the tunnel by myself and close my eyes. I listen for any sign of movement but can’t hear anything. Opening them, I take a step forward but stop. I feel him. Like a noose wrapped around my neck, pulling me back. Cole has this way about him that no matter how pissed and destructive I can be, he can be worse. He can hold out longer. He can be relentless. And we both like the fight. It’s like foreplay for us.
“Why are you here?” I ask again, not even bothering to turn around.
I’m met with silence.
My hands fist. “Well, whatever you plan on doing is a waste of your time. Go home.”
The front of his body presses into my back. His arm comes up and wraps around my waist. Then his breath hits my ear. “You know it turns me on when you’re pissy, sweetheart.” His voice is barely a whisper.
It makes me shiver, and I hate that even more. That’s the downfall of love; they know you can’t stay mad at them. They know exactly what to do for forgiveness. Even when they don’t deserve it. “Fuck you, Cole!”
His hips press into my back, letting me know he’s enjoying this. “You always could read my mind.”
“I …”
He lets go of my waist, grabs my upper arm, and yanks me into a narrow hallway that leads to a small room. This place is like a fucking maze. No wonder it said it could take hours to get through the tunnels. He slams the door shut behind us. The walls are covered in fake blood splatter. A large square bale of hay sits in the corner with a scarecrow seated on it. His right hand holds a machete that’s dripping blood onto the stone floor. Cole walks over to it, reaches into his back pocket, and flips open his black knife. Then he stabs the scarecrow in the leg.
“What the fuck, Cole?” After a moment of silence, I demand, “What if that had been a real man?”
“Then he would have screamed like a little bitch.” He yanks it out and turns to face me.
I look at the knife in his hand and then back and narrow my eyes at him. “What if I stabbed you in the leg?” I want to stab him in the neck right now. Fucking bastard showing up here when he knows I’m pissed and want nothing to do with him at the moment. “It’ll probably turn you on,” I spit out.
The corners of his lips curve upward. “You know what pain does to me.”
The bastard loves it.
He flips the knife shut and then places it back into his pocket before pushing his body into mine.
“Cole,” I growl.
“Would you rather him be a real person? Hmm? Want an audience? You didn’t seem to mind that guy touching you.”
Oh, this bastard … I go to knee him, but he’s faster and blocks me.
He laughs at me. Laughs. “Why do I get special treatment?”
“Because I hate you,” I snap.
His laughter fades quickly. He leans down, placing his lips on my neck. He wraps one hand around my waist, and the other tangles in my messy bun.
“Cole …”
“Where did he touch you?” he demands.
My body tenses. How long has he been following me?
“Here?” His hand slides down to cup my ass over my yoga pants. “How about here?” His free hand releases my bun and squeezes my breast.
“No,” I growl and shove him away. “You think I’d let that happen?”
His hand wraps around my throat, and he shoves me into a blood-covered wall. My anger rises while my body breaks out in goose bumps. He presses into me, and his blue eyes narrow. That fire that I know all too well burns with intensity, making the room grow hot.
“He better not have,” he growls. “Know why?” He doesn’t allow me to answer. “Because this ass is mine. Those tits are mine.” He leans in closer, our lips almost touching. “That fucking pussy is mine. Every part of you belongs to me, sweetheart.” Then he kisses me in Cole Reynolds’ fashion. It’s aggressive. Possessive. Demanding my attention. My body comes alive for him like it always does when he kisses me. This is when I feel who he really is. His anger. His fear. This man hides so much from the world, but he can’t hide from me. His demons call to me, demanding to be fed, and I willingly let him feast off me.