A Cage of Crimson (Deliciously Dark Fairytales, #5)

by K.F. Breene

We were the outcasts. The unwanted.

If I wanted to be saved, I’d have to do it myself. There was a freedom in that which I valued, an empowerment to claim my future.

“Almost . . .” I was right on the edge, tensing up now, riding his face with abandon. If I suffocated him . . . Well, he will have died of noble causes.

“Run. Leave this place. It’s not safe for you here. Get out now, tonight. Don’t look back. Find your way to another village and disappear. This is the only warning you’ll get.”

“More to follow after you suck my cock.” “I’d better not. Small items are a choking hazard.”

“Are those . . .” I squinted in the low light. “Do you have . . .penises stitched into your jacket?”

“My goodness, look at you! You wake up with your limbs tied, in a strange place, and you immediately notice the cocks littering my jacket!” He tsked at me, leaning back with a smile. “I can already tell you’re going to push my limits.” He turned his face to the side a little, still looking at me, his smile now coy. “Yes, they are dicks. I have forty-three dicks on me at present. Given you’re a prisoner and have nothing else to do, I figured I’d give you a task while you wait for the alpha. Find all the dicks!”

“I am not a fuckboy trainer. Well, you know. You’re what, twenty? Thirty? I’m shit with women’s ages. Anyway, you’re too old to go giving classes on how to properly fuck. We want our men to come preconditioned. If a guy can’t figure out the right time for a hard asshole fingering, what fucking good is he, know what I mean?” He shook his head. “I just can’t help him.”

“You can, you know,” he murmured, his hand coming up slowly, as though I might spook. “Run. I’d like it if you did. It’s in my nature to hunt. To bring you down like prey. When I catch you, I’ll do with you what I like.”

“Oh gods,” I groaned, putty in his hands. “No,” he said, pulling his face up even with mine. His eyes rooted me to the spot. “You don’t call on the gods when I’m touching you. You’re mine,” he growled, his fingers against my neck tightening a bit more. “You use my name. Weston or Alpha. Now come for me, Little Wolf,” he commanded.

“It’s a nightmare. Cheers! Let’s get drunk, then we’ll get high, you’ll get hate-fucked, I’ll play with my ding-dong, and we’ll all have a great night for once.”

“Are you an angel?” the hunched man asked me, his eyes clouding a little. “No,” I whispered, sparing a moment to shout, “Fire!” over my shoulder. My hand stayed on the hunched man’s shoulder and I spied a discarded wrapper within his things. The butterfly in the center taunted me. “Quite the opposite. I think I am the bringer of hell.” The man’s eyes seemed to clear a little and looked over my face. “No,” he replied, his face stretching into a smile. “No,” he said again. “I see the light in you. You are hell’s nemesis.”