A few weeks ago I was looking for a new story to read when I was absolutely done with all the stress of studying for the day (I read "Hunted" again for the 8th time when I came up with nothing). I wanted something to the point and brutal. I thought maybe I was asking too much, looking for a story that could skip the build up and run right into satisfying dark sex where the violence and noncon stuff made sense. So this is my attempt at it and a departure from the slower stuff I've written before. I'm exorcising a lot of my stress demons here so it's going to be dark and mostly naughty bits.
On that note: the story will contain physical and sexual violence and a whole lot of non consent. I am not planning on pulling my punches and neither will the characters. If that isn't your cup of tea, I wouldn't go further than this. "Siren" is full of violence-free noncon leading to acceptance if that's what you're after.
Those who continue on, enjoy and please let me know if you want more like this.
***
The box weighed a ton so she moved further into the dark cabin to drop it on the kitchen table, saving herself the act of lifting it again before she unpacked. She dropped her keys next to it and shrugged off the large backpack before she noticed something was off. Hairs raised all over her body; the smell was wrong. The cabin was too fresh for a place that had been shut up tight for six months. Where the air should have hung still she could almost feel the movement that had stirred it around.
Impossible
.
Avery took the car keys off the table, trying to behave as though nothing was wrong. If she could get back outside to her car she'd be okay. Back on the run, but intact. The skin on the back of her neck wanted to crawl off. Her legs burned with the panic that had seized her chest. Every instinct screamed at her to bolt.
Just act like you're going to get more boxes. Do. Not. Run.
Turning back towards the open front door, she took three measured steps before it swung closed.
The wood thudded as it met the frame; metal latch ground against the strike plate until it entered the box with a heavy sound that seemed to run through her. Her heart beat in her throat, fear surged inside her and yet she stood frozen in the dark as a shadow crossed the door and reached for the light switch.
It couldn't be him. She'd hidden this place so well, paid cash, told no one. There was no possible way he could have gotten here before her.
Light crashed in her wide open eyes as he flipped on the lights, his smile mocking her denial.
"Hello, Angel."
It might have been the sound of his voice, the look on his face, or her brain finally accepting that he was actually there that broke her terror. Avery was running before he'd thrown the deadbolt on the door. She rounded the couch that separated the living room from the kitchen, threw herself into the hall and charged at the rear door. Her hands closed on the knob before she realized he was moving too slowly. Four hard jerks on the door confirmed it had been nailed shut. The bedroom opened on the right and the window in the there was next, also sealed. He entered the room and smiled again from the doorframe.
She turned back but refused to engage him; she was not trapped, there must still be a way out. She made for the bathroom door, the window in there big enough to climb through, but her foot caught on something on the floor and she landed hard. Scrambling away she saw a metal ring embedded in the floor that had not been there when she'd bought the place. How long had he been here?
He moved so fast she almost didn't see him before it was almost too late. Endless training and repetition helped her react and she used his momentum to throw him into the wall with a resounding crash. She was back on her feet and flying towards the front door, and this time the sound of his pursuit roared in her ears. She threw the deadbolt and pulled the door, and nothing. It too refused to budge, as if the entire house had conspired to swallow her alive the moment she'd walked in. She raised her eyes to see a new bolt embedded in the top of the door frame just before his body struck hers. He crushed her against the wood, fist on her ponytail and a cruel chuckle in her ear as her hands scrabbled for purchase.
Her gun was in the car, too uncomfortable to have strapped to her waist during the hours of driving. And then she'd left it on the passenger seat like a fool, feeling safe when she'd finally arrived. How could she not have anticipated this? Why hadn't she been more cautious?
"Well that's not much of a hello," he said, his voice sending shivers like blades down her back.
Avery reversed her grip on the car key she held and twisted to bring the metal down hard on his forearm, digging into the tattooed flesh. He grunted but barely moved even as blood began to drip from the wound. He released her hair to reach for the key currently tearing at his skin, and as soon as she was free she threw her head back. He dodged it easily, but his body moved just enough to let her slip down and out of his crushing hold.
She scrambled back as he turned to tower over her. He was bigger than she remembered him, but the smug look on his face was the same as it had ever been. So was his close cropped hair, the scars and tattoos battling for supremacy on his skin, and the huge hands that reached for her. She leapt to her feet and moved to put the couch between them. His swaggering stroll was confident; his prey trapped. He'd been here, planned all of this. Her flesh crawled as she mentally flipped through the possible exits, all the weapons she'd stashed and if he'd found them.
"I got the one under the couch," he said, reading her mind like he always did. "And the sink, and the shelves and the other one behind the TV." Her foot hit another ring in the floor but she managed to stay upright even as he circled closer. "And those are for later, Angel. I can't wait to show you what I've brought to play with."
