His Trouble Maker

Chapter 133

Chapter 133

JESSICA

Riot is not dead.

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I am sure of that after I overheard some of Theo’s men talking about it. The walls are not thick enough to conceal their plans for me.

Damn it. I need to get out of here.

I lick my lips–dry, cracked, bloody–and stare at the only window in this shithole. Too high, too narrow, but if I could just get my hands free, if I could stand without my knees giving out, I could maybe–fuck.

I jerk myself higher, half–dragging a useless leg, hoping I’ll fucking reach the only window in this place. Theo must’ve shoved me in some hole no one can smell me in–smart bastard.

If I can just–fuck–reach that goddamn window….my eyes snapped open and I quickly went back to the corner side when I heard some footsteps outside.

He’s here.

Theo’s here.

No.

No, no, fuck no.

“Stay the fuck away,” I hiss, low and hoarse, barely sound. My fingers tighten around the rusted pipe I dragged from the corner–my only weapon. My only goddamn chance. It’s shaking in my grip. Or maybe that’s me. Doesn’t matter. I’ll split his fucking skull open before he have me.

“Let go of the pipe, baby,” Theo purrs, throwing a stack of plates against the far wall.

The sound makes me jump in an instant, and I’ll be damned because everything in me has been sensitive ever since he bit me–skin too raw, ears too sharp, blood too hot and crawling.

He’s doing this on purpose. That sick, grinning bastard.

I don’t let go of the pipe.

Theo steps forward, and I keep on stepping back so the bastard won’t reach me.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he croons, cocking his head like a predator pretending to be curious. “Scared I’ll bite again?”

I tighten my hold. My back hits the far wall.

No more space left.

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Chapter 133

Fuck.

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too fast, watching me breathe wrong,

Jess. You’re

says it like it’s

my grip, angle it toward his face. “Come closer,” I croak.

I missed

I swear to fucking moon goddess. I’ll rip his skull and feed it to his

he says, voice

teeth. “Good. Rot in

my thighs

right there between my

the inside of his cheek like he can taste it from here. His

don’t you?” he growls, eyes blazing with that fucked–up hunger. “All that rage, all that heat… I can smell it dripping off you. It’s making me

in

off with

swing the pipe hard. Miss his skull by an inch and hear it crack into the wall–dust

grip like it’s a toy, and throws it across the room with a clang. I slam back against the wall, breath knocked out of me, my useless

snarl. Still, I

my throat, hands braced hard against the

another curse, he slams me down–hard. My back hits cold concrete, skull bouncing once, and his weight pins me like a kill. His palm grips my throat -not tight, just enough to remind me he could crush it. “But fucking cat,” he growls against my jaw, breath hot

with his boot and kicks it closer–meat still steaming, still bleeding. My stomach twists. My mouth waters. The scent–iron and marrow and kill–hits me so hard I almost

9:33 Thu, Sep 4

Chapter 133

shove the

“I’m not your bitch.”

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down, tongue dragging up the shell of my

body is starving

nails into his ribs, try to bite his cheek but he jerks back laughing, fucking howling, and the sound tears through me–wrong,

by five. Eat or you’ll die starving in the fucking road. I

Theo’s right.

want

steaming. The fucking nerve–he knows what this does to me. He wants me to

Wants me to crawl.

My fingers twitch.

No.

No.

Fuck him.

fist itself, and saliva floods my mouth so fast I choke on it. My nails dig into my thighs–hard, deep, enough to tear. I bite my tongue to keep from whimpering. I feel like I’m vibrating, my skin too tight, breath

Meat.

Animal.

Mine.

all fours like a fucking

the meat and sink my teeth in–ripping, biting, chewing like it insulted me. Like I’m punishing it for being what he gave me. Warm grease drips down my chin, soaks into my shirt. I’m chewing so fast I can’t breathe. I