Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

clothes suddenly chafing my skin. My lacy bra and sweater
irritated the points of my breasts, and the skin of my thighs
stuck to the leather pants, my belly quaking and heat settling
between my legs, making me throb.
My heart filled my throat, and I was so scared, but I…I
wanted to yank my sweater down and be rid of it. It was hot,
and it was like every hair on my body vibrated. What the hell?
All of a sudden, a gang of chains shook and swooped,
there was a loud, deep growl, and someone started charging. I
opened my mouth to cry out, but he clenched my neck in his
fist and shoved me into the wall, jabbing something into my
stomach several times. It didn’t hurt, though. It was probably
one of those prop knives that retracted, but the fear of the
moment still overtook me, and I screamed as I was thrown
down on the ground, landing on something soft.
I didn’t have time to guess what it was before he was on
top of me, forcing my arms over my head with one hand. I
gasped and opened my mouth to cry out again, but then he
shot his knife up to my neck, pressing on the skin as he
breathed down on me, and I stopped, aware of the skin of my
nipples, burning under the itchy fabric of my sweater and his
weight on me. He felt like fire on my skin.
“I’m hungry,” he whispered down on me.
I smelled a wood fire on him, and cinnamon wafted off his
breath. I smelled cigarettes, too, but they weren’t like
Damon’s.
Music pounded somewhere, shaking the foundation, and I
guessed I was lying on a mattress, another creepy prop that I
was glad I couldn’t see.
“GGive me your tongue,” he growled softly. “I want to eat
it.”
I shook my head slowly. Was I taunting him?
Why wasn’t I screaming?
The prop knife left my neck and dug into my side,
retracting on impact. I sucked in a breath, the blood there
throbbing instantly, but I was safe. I knew I was safe.