A small drop of blood trickles down my cleavage and he runs the tip of his tongue along the crimson liquid, lapping it up. “On your knees, Stray. Now.” I loathe the way my nipple pebbles when he pinches it. “I won’t tell you again.” When I don’t move, his mouth hovers over my jugular, threatening. He’s a killer—I remind myself. You’re trapped in a room with a goddamn killer.
