Chapter Five

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Recap:

I gaped at him, jaw nearly touching the dirt as my eyes widened. He was absolutely sick! A disgusting bastard with no filter on his mouth.

I stopped wiggling my hips, for obvious reasons, but continued to kick and hit at him, making sure he knew how hard a time he was going to have on the way back to camp.Sure, I knew Pan wasn't the most innocent person, but you had never expected him to say anything so dirty; so gross. It surprised you, to say the least.

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After processing the whole situation, and how stupid I most likely looked, my mouth snapped shut with an audible clank. I blinked at him, my mind mulling over a million thoughts all at once. My lashes were still soaked in salty tears, and I could feel the same water sticking uncomfortably to my cheeks.

Is he serious? I'm here trying to get away from him, and all he can think about is how he's starting to get turned on by my struggling?

My wide eyed stare turned into a harsh glare, burning right into the side of his smug little face. The fear had mostly dissolved into anger as I started to kick and hit him once again, this time not as an action of self defense. This time, it was not only to get him away from me, but to let out my anger on him. Some part of my brain thought that this wasn't going to get me in trouble, and it was overruling my common sense.

Obviously he could tell the difference between my actions, because his face contorted into something that could only be described as complete and utter anger. However, this angry look on his face only fueled me furthermore. The force of my blows started to get heavier, and my face started to get red in anger. I clenched my jaw, grumbling lowly.

"That is not what I'm trying to do! You're sick, Peter Pan! Put me down!"

If hitting him hadn't put him over the edge, the comment surely had. His skin flooded with an angry scarlet color, and he looked like he had enough of everything. The small twig of patience that had left for me had snapped, and so had my confidence.

He grit his teeth, grunting like a bull as he practically threw me to the muddy soil. I gasped in shock from both the pain on my back and the cold, thick, wet dirt that covered me from head to toe instantly. The slightly chilled mud was soothing to the burn of my cut, but only for a few seconds. After, the pain kicked in, and it felt like a hundred angry hornets stinging away at my back.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but before I could try and sit up, a rough hand grabbed my arm and yanked me up themselves. His fingers dug into my arms, sure to leave ugly bruises by tomorrow morning. My mouth and eyes were gaping wide, my mind too stunned to shut them.

I was lifted slightly so that he could drag me from the mud and onto dryer dirt. After backing me up to one of the numerous trees in my surroundings, his hands moved up to latch onto my shivering shoulders. To say I was shocked was an understatement, and I was far from happy.

I arched my back so that it didn't scrape against the bark of the tree, my chest heaving in pain as I tried to escape his clutches. This action resulted me in a position closer to him than I ever wanted to be, nor ever thought I'd be in.

His chest bumped against my own, my hands vigorously trying to push him further from me as they shook and quivered in terror. I could feel his heart beating rapidly out of anger at my chest, almost as hard as mine was beating in reaction to this anger.

I could feel his eyes burning into my head, obviously wanting me to look back at him, but I didn't comply. I turned my head away and shut my eyes, my palms held fearfully in front of me to push him back slightly.

Tree Pixie ·Robbie Kay·Where stories live. Discover now