Not waiting a second, he pushed her away and grabbed Autumn by the arm, pulling her behind him, his steps heavy and purposeful. She stumbled and tried to resist, but his grip on her was too firm. "Where are you taking me?" she cried out, her voice shaking with fear. "Let me go, you are a murderer," she yelled, trying to hold on to her courage.
Zyler's lips twisted into a cruel smirk as he tightened his grip on her hair. "Murderer? My sweet, that's such a harsh word, don't you think?" he pulled her closer to his chest, smirking like a sick prick. The blood from the killing was still spread on his body. "I prefer to think of myself as an artist," he replied, his voice dripping with contempt.
The pain was searing through. Autumn gritted her teeth, trying to hide her fear. "I don't belong to anyone," she yelled through clenched teeth. "I'm not your property."
Zyler chuckled darkly. "Oh, but you are," he snapped, his grip on her hair tightening. She was worried he would pull her hair out. You always have been, ever since I saw you." Autumn tried to tear away again, but his grip only grew tighter. She knew that fighting him was no use. He was too strong, too powerful.
Autumn let him drag her to his car. He opened the door and pushed her inside. Rounding up to her side, Zyler started the engine. She was about to ask where he was taking her but decided against it. It's not like he would tell you where he will take her. "Was he going to kill her? No, he wouldn't. If anything, he proved himself highly possessive. Hurting her is only reserved for him.
The car lurched to a stop on the edge of the woods, the thick canopy overhead casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Despite the brightness of the day, the trees were so dense that only the faintest glimmers of light filtered through. The silence was almost deafening, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the creak of branches swaying in the gentle breeze.
She peered out the window, taking in the dense forest surrounding them. The trees towered overhead, casting a shadow over everything. She couldn't help but feel a sense of dread settle over her as she realized how isolated they were. It was as if they were in another world entirely, cut off from the rest of society. This reminded her of the night they escaped from the monsters in the night. This was scarier than that.
"Get down," he ordered. The girl didn't have to be told again. She would take her chances with the monsters in the forest rather than with him.
"You are such a little thing. Almost submissive, almost obedient, aren't you?" he opened the door and got down.
"Aren't you afraid, Autumn?" he questioned, pulling his cigar out and lighting it. "Remember this?" He purposefully taunted her, and she resisted the urge to slap him.
"I would take my chances in this forest rather than with you," she said, standing solid and unmoving.
"You're such a fragile little thing, Autumn?" Zyler taunted with a wicked smirk, his eyes glinting with malice. "You're like a little bird, so easy to break." He leaned in closer to her, his hot breath against her ear. The more she resisted him, the more he wanted her, desperate to fuck her. Her anger was like gasoline to the fire.
"But don't worry, my little dahlia. I'll be gentle..." he blew the cigarette breath onto her face, and she coughed, responding to it just like he wanted her to. "At first," he was no longer leaning on the bonnet. He released himself from it, walked further, and pushed her until her back was pressed against the tree. "But you should promise me you will be gentle with me, too," he pressed further. Bringing his lips to her shoulder, he traced her spaghetti straps with his tongue. Her heart was running a thousand miles per minute. Her bravery was long gone.
Autumn's body felt like a fragile vase about to shatter into a million pieces. The fear coursing through her veins was like poison, slowly paralyzing her with every passing second.
YOU ARE READING
Burn Me Right
RomanceAutumn Wraith took a step a 20-year-old shouldn't take. She was naïve for her own ruin. One wrong move, or should we say one wrong article? She writes about him, not knowing her pen was the knife that was going to turn on her. Her life was anchored...