Tease Me, Baby: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Silver Creek High Book 2)

by Belladona Cunning

  He is pain personified. Something tells me he lives, breathes, and thrives off it. If our first interaction has anything to say about it, I’m right. It’s terrifying to know this entire time it was actually him messaging me, instead of Callum playing tricks on me. Until that last message, that’s who I thought it was. There was never any sign it was my rapist; the guy that took everything from me.

  Steadying myself, I grab Debra’s door handle, the cool metal giving way under my grip. I release an exhale of relief. Without looking, I push inside and turn, softly close the door behind me. My chest rises and falls with harsh breaths, and when I try to calm myself down, breathing through my nose like Coach Darcy taught us, that’s when I smell it.

  That’s when a terror like no other completely encompasses me.

  Blood.

  Trepidation assaults my entire frame, freezing me in place. A gasping sob forms in my throat, and when I gather up enough courage to slowly turn around, I have to slap a hand over my mouth as it begs to set free. My entire life feels like it’s crashing down around me, covering me from head to toe in rubble, burying me alive.

  My eyes track over the scene in front of me. He tied Debra to her bedposts, and her vacant, unseeing eyes stare right at me. A thin layer of blood coats her paling skin, and the stab wounds—oh, god, the stab wounds. Her stomach and chest appear as if a butcher took a meat cleaver to her midsection, hacking and stabbing until he got the piece of grade A meat he was after. And by the hole in her chest, I can only guess what that might be.

  My stomach heaves at the sight, and before I can stop myself, I run to her window and throw open the window. The contents of my stomach leave me, decorating the small roof of our back porch. I heave and vomit until there’s nothing left in my stomach but acid. I’m still queasy, faint. I press a hand against my mouth, and turn back to the sight of Debra bound, gagged, and slaughtered to death on her bed.

  Realization dawns on me, and it feels like a cold blanket falling over me. Debra wasn’t dragging something behind her when I was outside with Callum. I’d bet my entire life, or what I have left, that it was him dragging her. But, if she’s as cut up as she is, then how did I not see blood tracked all across the floor, the carpets?

  That’s when I dare look closer, finding a sheet just underneath her; one that he could have used to wrap around her body to keep from blood getting all over the floor. It’s one of mine. My favorite. It was a gag gift from Coach Rice our freshman year, with black cartoon pictures of carnation flowers all over it. To him, it was hilarious, all his softballers having girly little flowers, but to me, I actually liked it. And the stupid bastard downstairs ruined it.

  I snap out of my thoughts when I hear his footsteps on the base of the stairs. My flight or fight instinct kicks in, and without knowledge of what I’m doing, I quickly get down on all fours and slide underneath the bed. It’s too high of a drop of Debra’s window for me to get down, the back-porch roof being over twenty to twenty-five feet down.

  I shove all the old shoeboxes out of the way and scurry to the very back, grabbing all of my skirts so they don’t give me away. I situate the boxes again, piling them up until I can no longer see anything except a tiny sliver of the floor where the door is. Maybe if he can’t see me under here, if he by some chance glances under here, then I will have enough time to think of a way out of this.

  But that nagging feeling is back, and this time, it’s screaming that just like it does with Debra.

  My life is going to end in this house, too.

  Breathe. Slow and steady. Don’t let him know you’re here.

  He’s going to kill me. I know he is. I remember the venom in his eyes., remember the way his muscles bulged beneath the thin, black tank as he fought for control. His hands clenched by his sides as he vibrated with rage. Wrath aimed toward me.

  No doubt in my mind—this man is here to end my life. Make me pay for wronging him, even if I don’t know what I did to land on his bad side. I don’t even know this man. All I know is, he’s the one that has been making my life a fucking mess for two years. He is the one that took my innocence in the bathroom that night, leaving me broken and battered on the bathroom floor.

  He’s been texting, taunting me. This man planned everything to a science, and when I didn’t give up the guys, he’s now keeping good on his word.

  The organ in my chest pumps feverishly. It thuds a forceful tempo, battering against my ribs with bruising force. I’m terrified; the color draining from my face, like blood slowly leaking out of me into a puddle under my body. Goosebumps pebble along my exposed flesh as I replay the scene in my mind.

  Muddy footprints. A box. That smile. Run! Run! Run! Then blood. So much blood!

  With every slight noise, I tense. With every shadow creeping along the outside of Debra’s window, a shriek of fear desperately begs to claw its way free.

  Blood oozes through the mattress above me, drip, drip, dripping on the side of my face. It’s still warm; the body still fresh. I can still remember the flush staining the apple of her cheeks, which shouldn’t be possible. If I’m right, he was dragging her up the stairs when I was outside, which means her blood should have coagulated by now, right?

  Unless, I interrupted him. Unless … he didn’t believe I would come home, like he had a way of knowing what I would do. He probably knows how I brush my hair, brush my teeth, apply my makeup—he’s been present for it all without me knowing.

  Then I think back to the tree in my backyard. I remember seeing cake wrappers when the guys started coming over for dinner, littering the ground around the base. I thought it was them, but now, I’m sure it was him. The guy currently out for blood. He did this because of me. The letter, the text messages … the warnings. It’s all my fault.

  Ominous, thudding footsteps drill my eardrums each time his boots meet the stairs. He’s hunting, searching. But he already knows where I am. He made sure no other room in the house was accessible. I can practically feel the need roll off him in waves. It’s thick and disgusting, practically strangling me as it slithers over my body.

  Before tonight, it never scared me being in my house. But now, all I really want is to get out of here. Go somewhere, anywhere. Even if I have to bunker down under the debilitated bridge that leads out of town. But I know that’s never going to happen. Not with the threat he texted me last time. See you soon. The only thing he left off is the fact he’d be watching as he drains the life from my eyes.

  There’s nothing I can do, nowhere I can possibly run to. I’m trapped, hiding under the bed with slowly cooling blood dripping onto my heated skin.

  “Come out, come out wherever you are, little girl,” his muffled voice slices through the chilled air.

  Silent, panting breaths escape through my mouth. My eyes widen in fear as I watch him kick the door open hard. His mud-caked boots are the first thing I see, then the bottom of his worn black jeans. Leisurely, he steps into the room. A sickening chuckle filters through the stagnant air as he takes in the scene. The person he killed, then deposited here, in his quest to get to me.

  My mind races, palms sweating against the floor, as I try to think of a way out of this. The only exit is past him or the window, and even then, the fall would kill me. Plus, something tells me he’s much faster than I am. He’ll catch me before I can get to safety, and there’s no way I will be able to fight him off. He’s just too big, too strong. And with anger pulsing adrenaline through his, I’ll never match him in endurance.

  It’s then I remember my cell phone, but that thought immediately causes tears to prick my eyes. It’s in my clutch on top of my bed. It’s nowhere near me, where I could text someone for help, probably buzzing with texts from the guys.

  Damn, I wish they were here. I wish I could get to it and alert them I need help. Maybe they could scare him off. Maybe then I’d survive this.

  Something told me to go with Callum.

  Now, it’s going to cost me.

  Please, guys … save me.


  TO BE CONTINUED IN

  LOVE ME, BABY

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  About the Author

  USA Today Bestselling Author Belladona Cunning enjoys long walks on the beach ... Ha, yeah, right! While she does love the beach, she loves smutty, steam worthy romance even more. When she's not in the writing cave, you can find her running around with her two hellions and Mr. Cunning enjoying everything life has to offer.

  You can follow Belladona on her Facebook Group (where she usually seems to loiter when not writing.) at: @AuthorBelladonaCunning