Page 11 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

But he doesn’t move. Instead, Jed repeats his words, more slowly this time, the smile twitching with an edge of concern.

“What?” All I can do is mumble the word as I stare at him, eyes flitting between his bloodstained face and the weapon in his hands. “What did you say to me?”

“I asked if you found anything good out in the woods,” he repeats, even more slowly, if that’s possible. Does he think I’m simple? Or just slow? “You’ve been gone for a while. I saw you leave earlier and figured since you were going with such, uh, conviction?” He shrugs his shoulders. “That you knew what you were doing.”

“That road doesn’t lead to anything,” I say stupidly, as if he doesn’t know that already. But instead of making fun of me, Jed nods sagely, like I’ve given him some solid advice.

“It loops around about three miles out,” he agrees. “Near the river. I rarely walk it, but the previous owner of this cabin would take his fishing gear out that way. He fished so much he had the small road put in for his four wheeler.”

That knowledge does nothing for me, and I just look at him, still feeling frozen in place as my legs threaten to give out. “Then the other road leads to where I want to go,” I reply, my words careful, yet regrettable the moment they’re out of my mouth.

Jed turns lazily, his eyes landing on the other gravel path away from the cabin. He seems to consider it, like he’s looking for something new, before his gaze slants back in my direction. “Oh, yeah?” he asks at last, his head tilting to the side.

“Well…yeah,” I all-but snap. “There are two driveways. If it’s not this one, it’s that one.”

“Are you going to try that theory tonight?” he shifts the chainsaw to his other hand and glances up, squinting to look through the trees. “You have a few hours of daylight left; but it’s easy to get lost out here after dark. And no offense, Saylor, but you could barely stay on a clearly marked path the last time you were outside in the dark.”

When he looks back at me, I can feel his heavy gaze on my face. Unfortunately for me, my eyes are fixed on the weapon in his hand, still shining with dark blood and pulling all of my focus as my brain goes around and around with how much it would hurt to die that way.

I really don’t want to be chopped up by a chainsaw.

“I wasn’t sure when to expect you back,” Jed sighs, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he feels guilty. “Or if I’d have to come show you the way. It wasn’t exactly my goal for you to see me all bloody and with this.” Carefully he sets it down, then takes a few deliberate steps away from it, so it’s out of range for him to just reach down and grab it.

In fact, with how he’s moved, I’m the one closer to it now.

But I have no idea how in the world to even turn it on, let alone use it. Will it do me any good, even if I can get my hands on it first?

Well, better me than him, right?

“I’m not trying to scare you.” His voice is gentle, and it draws my attention up to him in surprise. Even his face is gentle. In the fading, perfect light of golden hour, he really is impossibly striking. His cheekbones stand out against the blood, and his light blue eyes are discernible under his long lashes and with the trees’ shadows reaching out for him. There’s something incredibly unfair about a murderer being this attractive.

“You kidnapped me,” I point out, taking one step sideways as if I’m trying to create distance between us. “You literally kidnapped me after drugging me. Remember? I don’t think there’s much else to say.”

“There’s a lot more to say,” he argues, tracking my movement with his eyes. It’s almost an inhuman reaction, and sends a prickle of fear up my spine. In this moment, in this perfect light, he looks like a gorgeous and adept predator. “I didn’t bring you here to hurt you, Saylor. If I wanted to kill you to keep you from telling anyone, don’t you think I would’ve done it by now?”

I open my mouth, only to find I have no idea what to say. His words make me uncomfortable in their honesty, and it bothers me that I can’t find the lie in his face or his eyes.

But there’s no way in hell I’m going to let my guard down, let him talk me into complacency, or do anything else to compromise my small chance of making it out of this alive. I don’t have much of a choice, I realize, as my tired muscles tense.

I have to get the chainsaw.

Something changes in his face. Incredulity and warning cross his features almost before I move. When I take off—somehow finding a burst of energy I was sure I didn’t have—my feet scrabble on the gravel under me and I lunge for the chainsaw, figuring that I have enough of a distance advantage to make it.

Immediately Jed makes it clear that even on my best day and with a bigger head start, my attempt for the chainsaw is a fever dream I should’ve flushed down the drain.

Arms close around me like steel cables, pinning my arms to my sides and snatching me up from the fall his weight had knocked me into. My fingers close, brushing the handle of the chainsaw, before I’m jerked up and against him. I’m forced to stumble backwards, and I shriek in desperation, fighting him and watching my one chance fade away into nothing.

He’s never going to let me go after this.

“Stop, stop,” Jed growls in my ear, sounding stern and almost less-than-friendly for the first time since I’d met him. “Saylor stop.” He shakes me like a scruffed puppy, easily standing upright and braced as I fight him. It occurs to me—when I slam my head back against his collarbone—he has a good six inches on my five foot seven height, and a hell of a lot of muscle, judging by the way he’s not fazed by my jerking, desperate movements.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” he snaps against my face, finally taking off with my shoes kicking in the air with futile effort. “I’m serious. But I won’t let you hurt yourself with that!” Before I can do more than laugh like I’ve lost my mind, my back is against his Jeep, the warmth of it a solid line as he brackets my body with his, also pressing his arms against the shell of the vehicle to hold me in place against it.

“I’m not going to hurt myself!” I snarl, my thighs screaming that I’m about to slither to the ground. “I’m going to hurt you!” Then I shove against him, but just like a boulder, he doesn’t move.

“You’re not going to hurt me. Have you ever picked up a chainsaw in your life?” His hand inches upward, and he swipes his thumb over my throat, prompting me to pull away as his murmured apology meets my ears.

But it’s hard for me to hear it when he brings his now-bloody thumb to his lips to lick off what had transferred from him to me. Looking down, I realize that I’m now half as bloody as him, and my clothes look like I’ve been an accomplice to a particularly messy murder.