“Just trust what your gut says about me,” he leans forward, his black hair falls into his chocolatey brown eyes. He has her pinned to the bedroom wall with his arms, her wrists bound above her head. He looks at her for a minute before closing the space between them, his lips close on hers, his tongue flicks into her mouth for a split second before breaking for air. “What does it say?” He whispers pulling away, a devilish look on his clouded figure.

“It says 𝘳𝘶𝘯,” she whispers, her heart hammers in her chest with the realization of what he was— of what he did. She hears the blade click behind his back, she sees his smile widen.

“I’ll give you to the count of three,” he breathes onto her neck, his lips linger on the soft flesh beneath her chin. She breathes in, closing her eyes as he pushes his hips into her stomach. Chills race, her stomach churns. He pulls away, like a wolf after a meal, but strangely, releasing her.

“Run,” he hisses, the black chains around his neck chine, the promise ring on her finger throbs. He pulls the hoodie up, tucking the blade and grins.

His smile held too many teeth.