Striker: A Dark Bully Romance (Redwood Rebels Book 1) by Rachel Leigh (best historical fiction books of all time .txt) 📗

to stimulate vertigo in children. Apparently, it resulted in laughter. And we thought we got to have all the fun toys as kids.” Talon chuckles, before popping the small flashlight between his teeth. His hands grab me by the waist, and before I can even react, my ass is sitting inside the crate.

“Get me down, now!” I shriek. “This thing is so dirty. There are probably baby spiders hatching on me as I speak.” I kick and squirm, but his hand only pushes me farther in. Before I even realize what the hell he is doing, the straps are over my shoulders. My body jolts at the clicking sound of a lock.

Taking one hand, he sticks it to the side of the box and closes a clamp that I didn’t notice before. Then does the same with the other hand. “Talon, I mean it. Get me out of this thing right now.” Panic ensues. He’s going to leave me here. He’s going to fucking walk out and leave me in this thing in the dark. “Please, I’m begging you.”

“Kids didn’t get to have all the fun, ya know. Adults played, too. Just by cranking that lever over there a few times.” My eyes bolt to the lever to the right that is connected. “I could make this thing spin six-hundred times in a minute. You might vomit or shit yourself; you'll probably even pass out. In which case, I could do whatever the hell I wanted to with your lifeless body.”

“You wouldn’t,” my head shakes, my tone shifting, “I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Shining the flashlight up at his face while he speaks, his eyebrows dip. “Your first mistake of the night would be believing that.”

“I do believe it. You’re not a monster, Talon, I know you’re not. You have a heart.”

Stepping forward, his hand dips between my thighs, prying them apart. With my wrists anchored in place, I can’t even try to fight him off. “Don’t reduce me to a man with a beating heart. Just because it’s in there, doesn’t mean it beats with good intent.”

My legs whip out, kicking my feet over and over again. “Get me the fuck out of this thing!”

When he leans closer, a momentary lapse of hope has me drawing in a sigh of relief. Until his warm breath hits my neck and his fingers slither between my legs.

“You’re worse than Zed. Here I thought maybe I’d be safe with you. You are just a bunch of sickos,” I spit out, my feelings shifting rapidly from frightened to angered. My feet kick again, trying to hit him wherever I can. I scream, “I hate you, all.”

When I stop kicking, I notice that Talon is just standing there watching me. His breaths are labored and unfulfilled. I take notice of every inhale and exhale. “You said he didn’t do anything in that room.” He speaks the words as if each one was a sentence on its own.

Defeat overpowers me. “I just wanna go home, Talon.”

His hand retreats from my shorts and grips tightly onto my face. His signature move to get my attention. “What.the.fuck.did.Zed.do?”

“Nothing. I told you, he didn’t do anything. He may have if you hadn’t come in the room, but fuck, Talon, maybe I would have been better off. At least he didn’t restrain me and assault me.”

“I didn’t assault you.”

“Then what exactly is your endgame here, hmm? Doesn’t feel like you are trying to make me laugh in this laughing chair.”

“You were curious. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before following me into a torture room.” He begins shining the flashlight around the room.

My eyes skim the room, following the light. That’s exactly what this place is. It’s a torture room. One wall holds a row of wooden crates that look like they were used as cages. There are old hospital beds on another side and a bunch of mechanical equipment surrounding a chair. I don’t even have to ask; I know exactly what that chair is used for.

“Can you please—” I’m cut off by the sound of the clamps opening. One hand drops free, then the other. Taking a deep and audible breath, I rub my fingers around my wrists. Once he unlocks the straps over my shoulders, I jump down, without even giving it a second thought.

“You’re such an asshole.” I swat at him with both hands. “I mean it. I fucking hate you, Talon Porter.” His fingers grip my wrist, stopping my movements. His body presses against mine as he takes both of my arms into one hand and pushes me against an open space on the wall. With one of his hands free, he slides his open palm down my side, then to my ass, gripping it tightly. His touch sends a rush of adrenaline coursing through me.

“Guess what, baby girl?” he mutters into the thin air between us. “I hate me, too.”

“Why are you doing this?” I choke out. “Why won’t you just let me leave?”

My head tilts instinctively as his lips shadow my neck. “Shh,” he whispers, “No more questions.”

Closing my eyes, I fight hard against the feelings that are washing over my body. I fight the imprints of his touch on my skin, every tingle, and every craving for more. Swallowing hard, I try not to feel. Not anger, not fear, not hate, not the longing desire to have his hand between my thighs again. I hate myself even more than I hate him, because the way his body is ghosting me at this moment makes me want to invite him to take all of me. To possess me. To corrupt me—mind, body, and soul.

“Talon, I—” My voice cracks. Hushed, almost unrecognizable, I say, “I think we should go back with the others.”

“Since when are you such a scaredy cat? The Marni I remember is tough.” His lips continue to trail downward, grazing my collarbone. “She wouldn’t shake beneath any man.” His eyes find mine. I can barely see the color in them, just