Page 87 of Viper

He chuckled. “Is that all you got? I expected more from the lips of a whore.”

“Yeah?” she said sweetly. “Why don’t you kiss me, then?”

His eyes flickered and dimmed. “You don’t want that.”

She watched as confusion contorted his face. It was almost as if his brain couldn’t grapple with the shift from victim to willing. Urgency spurred her on. He got off on helplessness. Her insult had been the truth. He probably wouldn’t know what to do with a consenting woman, which might work in her favor.

She shifted to the edge of the couch, and her knee bumped his. “Oh, but I do. I remember how you kissed me on the boat. How romantic it was beneath the stars. So sweet and gentle.”

His head reared back. He stood abruptly and turned around, rubbing his cheek. “N-No. That didn’t happen. I-I threw you in the water. You were scared.”

She giggled. “Scared of you? Never.”

He wheeled on her. “You’re lying! You begged me to stop.”

She forced a sickly sweet smile. “I would never tell you to stop. I know how your hands feel. How you let me be in control⁠—”

“Lies!” He pulled back his arm and cracked his knuckles across her face.

She cried out, the powerless sound involuntary.

Wrong move.

He slurped spit through his teeth, his eyes dancing with thrill. Then he laughed, the pitch manic and childish. “You think you’re smart?”

He got in her face. “I’m going to need more time with you.” He cupped the back of her head and smashed his mouth on hers, biting her lips sharply.

She shrieked and squirmed as he held her in his bite like a fish on a hook. Every little movement she made was painful.

He let go and she gasped. The taste of her own blood hit her tongue, and her mouth immediately felt double the size from swelling. “You freak!” she screamed.

She threw her forehead into his nose. A gross crunch reached her ears followed by Craig’s piercing cry. Stars bounced in front of her vision and her head swam.

“You bitch!” He cupped his hand over the injury.

Blood squirted between his fingers and rolled down his face. His devilish eyes found hers, his irises coated in an unnatural sheen of loathing. He dropped his hand and curled his lip. “You’re going to pay for that.” He spoke each syllable with menace.

She fought the urge to gulp. Her chest moved up and down erratically. Part of her wanted to beg him to let her go.

Common sense made her swallow the plea.

Showing weakness would only feed this depraved monster. She pressed her feet into the floor to secure herself, then squared her shoulders.

He chuckled. The sinister laugh made her skin crawl. “Cat got your tongue, starfish?”

“Go to hell.”

“I plan on it. And I’m taking you with me.” He strode into the kitchen and flicked on the tap, then grabbed a dish towel and wet it to clean his face.

With his back to her, she scoured the room with her gaze. She needed a weapon, or at least something sharp to cut through the zip tie. A knife, scissors . . . hell, even nail clippers. Though he likely kept those in the bathroom, and right now he’d be too pissed to let her use it. But . . .

The memory of the last time she’d been on the boat rushed into her mind. She’d called Atlas from the bathroom, then had hidden her phone in the cupboard beneath the sink before Craig discovered she’d called anyone.

Hope exploded in her chest. There was a chance that he hadn’t found the device. After all, he’d been on the run that night. He’d hidden his yacht somewhere and stayed in the city so he could try to catch her. The possibility of her phone still being in there actually seemed likely.

She wouldn’t even need to make a phone call. She’d just need to turn it on and send a text. Then Troy could trace her.

Yes, yes, yes.