Chapter 3 The intruder

Zane's pov

"Get off me," the blonde demands, her chest heaving.

I tilt my head to the side, watching her squirm. I have never seen her face before, and I know every woman in this town, Infact in a thirty mile radius. 

She wears a black hoodie that has ridden up past her chin, almost covering her features, so I use one of my hands to pin her wrists while the other pulls the fabric down just as she begins fighting back with renewed fury.

"Get off me, you son of a bi—" 

"Zane?" I hear Derek call. 

"Over here," I answer, not taking my eyes off her.

"You fucker," she snarls.

"What did you find?" Derek asks, moving his torchlight over her.

She turns her face away from the light and squeezes her eyes shut, and I see about six piercings, lining the curve of her ear. 

"A toy. Where the hell did she come from?" Derek asks, stepping closer as he sweeps his light around the perimeter. 

"Not sure.”

"Are there more out there?" Derek asks.

"Fuck you," she curses, her entire body shaking uncontrollably beneath my weight.

How much did she see? Did she see me beat a man to death? She should be afraid of me. My demons like rage. I feed off it and I have never been one to starve.

Derek laughs. "I always love it when they have a dirty mouth," he says, taking a step closer to us. 

She arches her back and extends her neck, letting out a scream for help that rings out across the night.

"That's completely useless, sweetheart," I say, my hand drifting upward to wrap loosely around her throat, not choking her hard enough to cut off her air, but pressing down with just enough pressure to feel the wild thrum of her pulse. 

The blood on my palms paints a sweet picture against her sun-kissed skin.

"No one can hear you out here, and no one is coming to save you."

She lets out a tiny whimper. 

"God, I love it when they scream," Derek says softly. "Go ahead, baby, scream for me." He squats down right beside us.

Then he reaches out to wrap his fingers around her long hair, coiling it around his bloody fist and yanking it back with a force that jerks her head to face him. She bares her perfect, white teeth, yet remarkably, she refuses to let out a single cry of pain. Both of our flashlights remain locked onto her face, forcing her to squint through the light as she struggles to see who is holding her captive.

In the distance I hear the engine of a car roar as Garret, Justin and Xavier leave.

“What were you doing out here in the dark all by yourself, baby?" Derek asks.

"Watching you murder someone," she snaps.

Derek throws his head back in laughter. "Like to watch, do you? What a coincidence. I love to watch too.” He turns to me. "Give me a show, Zane. I deserve it after the night we've had, and we have, after all, given her a pretty good show."

She instantly stiffens beneath me and her wide, terrified eyes snaps back to me.

"Don't," she whispers, her lips parting slightly as she sucks in a ragged breath.

I smile as my hand leaves her neck to slide over her collarbone and down across the rise of her breast, deliberately pulling her heavy hoodie down in the process. The blood leaves a dark trail over the fabric, and my cock hardens inside my jeans. I can feel her pulse race and I like it. The fear in her blue eyes, the sound of her ragged breathing and the shaking of her body.

"You know I always love to perform," I say, my voice dropping into a purr as my hand goes under her hoodie, pulling down the strap of her black bra.

"Please," she whimpers.

Derek whistles. "Fuck! She's begging you already? That's got to be some kind of new record, right?" 

A sudden breeze sweeps through the trees, blowing a few strands of her hair across her face, several of them sticking to the blood painted across her neck.

"Red is definitely your color," I tell her, my eyes tracing the dark red lines contrasting against her pale skin. 

"And bright orange is going to be yours if you don't let me go right now, you sick fucker," she snarls.

"Wait. She might have recorded the whole thing on her phone,” Derek says.

I release my grip on her wrist and pull my hands back and just as I guessed, she pulls her arm free and launches herself upward, her sharp fingernails clawing down my bare chest, dragging across my skin with enough force to draw blood, and I let out a low, involuntary moan at the stinging pain that shoots through my nerve endings. I grab her wrist and snap her back down onto the ground.

"Check her pockets.”

Derek searches her. "Got it. It's locked." 

“What’s the password, sweetheart?” I ask.