Stalker (The Company Book 3)

Back and forth. Left and right. He keeps circling my cage, gazing at me with those bloodthirsty eyes every other second, only to return to pacing around the attic. I wonder what he’s thinking. Is he envisioning ways to torture me? Is he trying to decide what method best to use to hurt me? Or can he simply not decide?

The thought alone creates goosebumps all over my body. I don’t want to think about the things he’s going to do to me, but with him barging into the room, I have nothing else to wonder about. His presence alone is enough to make me tremble in fear. It disgusts me. I’m not normally like this, so … weak and mumbling when I speak. I hate it; I hate to see myself behave this way, and yet, I can’t stop it. It’s as if the terror has settled in my bones.

I’ve never experienced anything like this. At least … not since the last time we were alone together.

It must be him, but I don’t understand why my body reacts to him the way it does. He’s the only man who’s ever been able to make me shiver to the point of wanting to grab a gun to shoot him. A man never threatens me. Hell, they’re mostly scared of me instead of the other way around. Must be the air of aloofness shrouding me. That or my inability to care for their emotions even the slightest bit.

Except his … Phoenix … the way he looks at me, briefly stopping to bite on his lip piercing, does something to me. The way he runs his fingers through his dark hair to keep his focus is entrancing. My heart beats out of control at the sight of his steady paces, his hawk-like eyes, and the black depth hidden within them. I want it all. And I want to kill him for doing this to me.

It’s like I’m left in the hands of a merciless animal that will rip me to shreds if I don’t manage to seduce it into letting me go. Speaking of which, I think that is the only shot I have of getting out of this prison.

However, I know he won’t fall for it that easily. He knows me too well for that. I just have to try even harder than before. Working my charms on him is the only solution I have to this problem. What else can I do when I’m bound to this cage and left to his mercy?

Nothing, except persuade him not to hurt me … maybe in time, when he trusts me enough, he’ll even let me out.

As he slams open the door, I shoot up and bump my head on the cage. He’s gotten my rifle from downstairs. I wonder what he’s going to do with it. With a wicked smile and a raised eyebrow, he looks at me while placing the rifle on the table near the door, and then fetches a gun from his bag.

“Big isn’t always better. Except when fucking, of course,” he says, grinning.

Seeing that makes me shiver, as I know all the tools he brought with him are meant for me. If I’m nice, maybe he’ll go easier on me. It’s worth a try. I don’t intend on dying just yet, but I don’t want to be stuck in this cage forever, either.

He walks toward me and loads the gun, readying it for fire. I guess he won’t go easy on me, no matter what I do.

With a threatening stance, he holds out the gun, aiming for my head.

I cover my head with my hands and shout, “Please, don’t shoot!”

“No?”

“No! Don’t! Please?”

“Or what?”

“I don’t want to die!” I yell, tears welling up in my eyes.

I can’t see him, but I can hear him muffle a laugh. “I could swear you begged me for this a while ago.”

“Please …” I mutter. I don’t know what else to say. I don’t want to die. That’s human. But I don’t want to suffer, either. What kind of choice is that?

“So, I guess you pick the pain instead then,” he muses, tucking the gun into his waistband.

“No,” I say, sniffing as I lower my hands.

I want to smack the smirk off his face, if I could only reach him. I hate this damn cage.

“You can’t have it both ways, Princess.”

“As if I would ever want any of them,” I say, sighing.

“You don’t, but what you want doesn’t matter here.” He starts playing with his knife. “You see, this is all for me. I admit it. I’m a selfish bastard. I want to see you hurt so badly …” He pushes the tip of the knife so far into his own thumb that a drop of blood oozes out. “I can’t stop thinking about all the ways I’m going to make you cry.”

“You want my tears?” I ask because I’m not far away from bursting into tears. “Because you can have them.”

He stops playing with the knife. Instead, he inches closer to my cage and waves the blade at me. “Be careful, Princess. Don’t tempt me. You know how much I love to see you water from your eyes.”

“Too late.” I point at my eye. “See that? That’s your doing. Happy now?”

He squints. “Not nearly enough to touch the surface of what I’ll need from you.”

I grind my teeth, getting angrier by the second. “You already have me in a cage. You’ve humiliated me on more than one occasion. I’m a pet stuck in your prison, and I’m already hurt from losing both my guys. Isn’t it enough?”

He frowns, gazing at me for a second before responding. “Never.”

I roll my eyes and blow out a breath, angry with myself for not thinking of better ways to talk my way out of this mess.

“Whatever you’re going to try next won’t work, Vanessa. I’m not going to let you persuade me.” He reaches into the cage with the knife, and I lean back to avoid it, but his arm is longer than the width of the cage. I can’t escape the blade as it touches me. With my eyes closed, I try to calm myself down by breathing through my nose as Phoenix pushes the tip into my cheek.

“Do you fear pain, Princess?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say.

“Is it because of the feeling or because I might scar you?”

“What?” I gasp.

“You heard me.” He caresses my cheek with the edge of the knife. It sinks into my skin like a knife cutting through butter, but not deep enough to do damage. It does hurt a little, though, and I struggle not to react. I can feel the blood roll down my skin, and his eyes zoom in on it like a hawk that’s found its prey.

“Are you afraid you’ll no longer look pretty when I’m done with you? Or do you just not want to feel it while I’m hurting you?”

“Both,” I say, my voice changing in intonation as the blade dances across my skin.

“Thought you’d say that. You wanna know what I think? I don’t think you’re afraid of the pain. I think you’re more afraid of the consequences. The fate you’ll have to endure once you realize you can no longer hide behind a pretty mask.” His eyes suddenly turn serious. “Because that beautiful mask will no longer be there when I’m done with you.”

That comment shakes me to my core. I’ve never been this afraid, but then, I’ve never faced anything like this. Miles or Phoenix, whatever he calls himself nowadays … he’s become so violent over the past few years, like a raging hurricane. There’s a certain gleam in his eyes that I can’t ignore, something diabolical. And yet I can’t help but wonder if he thinks exactly the same of me.

“So …” The knife ends at my chin, and with the tip, he raises my head. “How would you like to suffer?”

Frowning, I laugh. “Are you for real?”

The left side of his lip curls up into a smile. “Don’t take it for granted, Princess. I’m giving you a choice. Where would you like to bleed? How would you like to die? Where do you want to feel the pain first?” He drags the knife down my neck all the way to my chest, circling my breasts with it as if he means to cut them out first. I loathe the despicable look on his face, as if he’s enjoying this.

“So, what will it be?” he whispers, staring at me from under his eyelashes.

My eyes search his for an inkling of mercy, but the only thing I find is desire. The desire to gut me … to use me. I recognize that look. He’s had it before, but it was a long time ago … back when he still wanted me in more ways than one.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” I say. “I’ll do anything. Anything you want.”

He cocks his head, his eyes narrowing intensely. “Anything?”

I nod profusely, my lips shivering as he brings the blade close to my mouth. He keeps toying with me, testing my limits. It must be part of his cruel sense of humor. His way to punish me.

He brings the knife to my wrists, grabbing my arms and pulling them to him. I fear he’s going to cut me, but instead, he unties the belt that’s kept my hands tied. The knife is only there for show, to threaten me. A smile slowly builds on his face, the barbell in his eyebrow lifting up with it. “Lift up your skirt.”

I frown, not sure what he wants.

“Did you not hear what I said?” he asks, the knife drifting down toward my chest along with his eyes. “That dress is in the way of what I want.”

With reluctance, my hands find their way to the bottom of my floral dress and scrunch up the fabric to about knee-length.

He sways the knife upwards. “More.”

The skirt inches up a little more, just below my panties.

His dark eyes are at half-mast as they drift up from the bottom of my dress to look me straight in the eyes. “Did I say you could stop?”

I swallow away the lump in my throat, realizing what he wants me to do. I’ve known it from the start. That primal, lustful look in his eyes. At first, I thought it was just the thirst for revenge, and maybe it still is … only in a much more sexual way.

Suddenly, he pushes the knife into my throat, causing me to lift my head in an attempt to escape the sharp tip.

“You might want to answer the questions I ask you. It might prolong your life.”

“Sorry …” I mumble, leaning away to avoid the knife.

He smirks. “That’s the first time I hear an apology. Hmm … it suits you well.”

“Fuck you,” I snarl. I can’t help myself; he’s so full of himself.

“Now, now, Princess. Don’t blow it. The only thing you’ll be blowing is me.”

My nose twitches as I feel the incredible urge to push my hand through the bars and punch him in the face. However, the knife he’s constantly shoving in my face is a reminder of my fate if I don’t shut up and do what he says.

His lips part. “Finally, no more backtalk.” He sighs. “You know, I’ve been waiting so long for the moment when you’d be too scared to try and piss me off. So scared you’d do anything to please me, just so I’d be nice to you.” He brings the knife to one of the straps holding up my dress at my shoulder and tucks it underneath. “And you know what? I’ll be nice, as long as you do whatever I say.”

And then he cuts right through the fabric.

The strap drops down my shoulder, and my dress now hangs slightly askew because only one strap supports it. I hope he doesn’t cut both.

I get the feeling he doesn’t mean any of it, and that he’s only saying it to fuck with my mind. This man, who now calls himself Phoenix, is unlike the boy I used to know. He’s never hated me to the point of wanting to destroy me, but then again, I probably am the reason he turned out to be this way.

“So, first things first. You’ll call me Phoenix from now on. Nothing else.”

“But your name is Miles.”

“Shhh!” he interrupts, placing the edge of the knife over my mouth to silence me. “Be quiet.” He frowns. “Second of all … You’ll do as I say. Don’t interrupt me. Don’t bite. Don’t kick and punch. Don’t scream. Don’t do anything that will make me want to get into that cage because, by god, I will come in there and fuck you up with whatever means necessary to make my point.”

“I understand,” I say with a fake smile plastered on my face.

“Good.” He smiles back just as fake. “Any questions?”

“No.” My smile is gone immediately.

He places his hand against his ear. “What’s that again?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Phoenix.”

“Good girl.”

Smirking, he brings the knife to the other strap holding up my dress and cuts through it like butter. The sides drape down my shoulders, barely covering my breasts as I wrap my arms around my waist to keep it from falling down.

“Did I say you could move your hands there?” He shakes his head. “No. Keep them down. There.” The knife points at my panties, which are exposed now.

“What?” I ask. “You want me to …?”

“I want you to touch yourself.”

With furrowed brows, I say, “No.”

“Did you forget our little agreement already?” he says.

“I didn’t, but you’re asking me to … to …” I sniff, taking in some much-needed air. I can’t believe it’s come to this. Sex or pain. Who could ever choose between the two?

“To what?” he says. “Play with yourself? Fuck your own pussy? Show me your face when you come?”

His hand suddenly comes past the bars and rips down the remaining shreds of dress, exposing my bare breasts. I never wear a bra underneath this dress, but now I wish I did.

The devilish smile that briefly appears on his face as he gazes down toward my chest makes my body heat up. I hate that feeling, and I refuse to acknowledge it.

“Very nice …” he murmurs, which makes my skin turn red. “Still as pretty as ever, I see.”

“Don’t do this …” I say.

“Why not? Don’t tell me that you don’t want this because I know that’s a lie. You certainly didn’t object to it back at that party about four years ago. Or did you forget?” he asks, his fingers circling my breasts, taunting me.

“I didn’t forget, but that was different. I wasn’t in a cage, and I didn’t know you were going to kill my husband.”

“That only makes it kinkier, not unwanted,” he muses, his finger reaching the tip of my nipple, which hardens under his touch. “You can say all you want, but I know your body. I know your mind. I know everything about you, and I know that you like it rough. This prison doesn’t make you want me less. I bet that you were actually secretly hoping for me to do this …” With his thumb and index finger, he pinches my nipple and I bite on my cheek to prevent a moan from spilling out. He seems to enjoy it. With his other hand, he holds the knife close to my other nipple, pushing the tip into my flesh, but not far enough to puncture it. “Instead of that.”

Grinding my teeth, I refuse to let him provoke me, so I keep quiet and wait for his commands, as it’s seemingly the only way to keep him from hurting me. I know what he wants, but I’m not going to give it to him by myself. He’ll have to work for it.

“Hmm … quiet and obedient. I have to say, I kind of like it this way, Princess.”

“My name is Vanessa,” I say.

He suddenly tugs on my nipple, causing me to gasp. “I’ll call you whatever I want, spoiled little Princess. Don’t think you didn’t earn that name because you are a fucking brat and you know it.”

“Fine, call me whatever you want. I don’t care,” I sneer.

“Sure, you do,” he jests. “You just hate having to give in to someone. Except, this time, you have no choice, which makes you even more uncomfortable than normal. But I know how to play your strings, Princess, and this is exactly what you want.”

He lets go of my nipple, which burns like hell from his touch. The knife exits the cage, and with his finger, he tips up my chin. “Now, where’s that hand?”