Page 261 of Primal

“Not until you scream for me.”

“Get off me, you freak. You don’t get it—he’s out there. He’s—”

The Reaper leans down, his mask inches from my face. “You beg so pretty. Your pulse races. Your skin flushes.”

“Stop.” Shit. He thinks I’m into this. “This isn’t—I’m not—”

“You tremble so sweetly. Tell me, little moth … do you burn as bright as you struggle?”

“I’m not struggling for fun, you psychotic—ungh—”

He yanks my head back by the hair. Laughs. “No panties. You came here ready to sin.”

I twist, my knee aiming for whatever soft parts beneath all that muscle and menace.

He catches it mid-air. One-handed.

“Feisty little thing.” The scythe thunks into the dirt as his hand slides up my ass. “That’s good. Fire makes the fall even sweeter.”

“You’re insane.”

“Your body betrays you. Your pulse sings for me.” His gloved fingers graze my pussy.

I suck in a breath. “I’m not—”

His fingers. Inside me. “You were soaked before I even touched you. So tell me, little sinner—are you aching for Death?”

“Get the fuck off me!”

He tsks, dragging his other gloved thumb over my lip. “Such a filthy mouth. Shall I silence it?”

“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

He freezes.

Thank God. I exhale.

“Supercali-fucking-what?”

“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! That’s my safe word, asshole.”

“Ah, but you’re in purgatory, little sinner. There’s no escaping.”

Fuckfuckfuck. Group 5 has no safe words. No limits. I scream.

“Yes, just like that,” he coos.

I knee him in the groin.

Or try to.

He catches my thigh effortlessly, hitches it over his hip. “Let’s see how long that fire lasts when I drag every moan out of you.”

“Nonono, wait. I’m not—I’m not in purgatory.” I claw at the player tag around my neck. “Th-this is a mistake.”

He doesn’t even glance at the tag. “Mistake?”

“I’m not part of Group 5. I didn’t sign up for—this. I had limits. I had a fucking safe word.”