Page 25 of Red Flag Bull

I can’t stop the tears from welling in my eyes, so I turn, to hide them. “I mean to keep them when I make them,” I say.

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t,” he says. “I’ll never know for sure.” He rubs his head, glances at the clock on the oven, and sighs. “Go upstairs. You’re making me suspicious being down here on your own, and I’m too tired to argue. You’re sleeping in my room, with me.”

“With you?” I wish I didn’t hope for such an unlikely thing, when he seems set on providing all I need while depriving me of what I really want.

He leans in close, boxing me in against the fridge. “Do you deserve to sleep in my bed, Amanda?” he asks, lifting one eyebrow.

That fucking name. I hate it. It belongs to the stupid girl who ruins all the best things in her life.

“No,” I admit quietly. “Only a princess is worthy of your bed, and I’m just Amanda.”

“Then you’ll sleep on the floor.” He gestures for me to walk ahead of him. “It’s safest for you there, anyway.”

I shiver and do as I’m told, imagining all the terrible things he may want to do to me — which is likely exactly what he wants me to think about.

11

JASON

I made her sleep on the floor.

Mandi thought it was a punishment, so she took the order willingly. She always did feel deserving of poor treatment. Pain is a constant she can depend on when everything else falls apart.

The truth is I can’t have her in my bed because I’m still too angry.

I want to hate-fuck her so bad, I can’t risk it, for fear of what I’ll do to the precious, broken girl. I told her I couldn’t trust her, but it’s myself I don’t trust.

She’s fucking hurting so badly, she won’t even tell me what’s wrong.

I could kill someone for making her feel like this, but I don’t want it to be her. Never her. Not my fucking princess.

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. I tug at the T-shirt I’m wearing, and then at my boxer briefs, unable to get comfortable.

I fucking hate sleeping in clothes, but I don’t ever want her looking at my scars again. Her eyes got so sad the first time it still makes my soul ache to think about it. It’s as if she could feel my pain, and she’s already been burdened by so much. She needs protection from feeling any more.

Worried about her, I strain my ears, wondering if she’s having a more restful night than I am.

She breathes so quietly.

I creep to the bottom of my bed and peer down at her, curled into a tight little ball, fast asleep. Still breathing.

I relax into my mattress and watch over her. Is she dreaming? She was so tired, she fell asleep when I told her to. Maybe she was worn out from trying to figure out her next steps and was relieved to have me tell her.

My T-shirt covers most of her small body, but the curve of her bare ass is visible, and if I lean to one side, I can see the dark curls nestled between her legs, where I want to seed her till she drips. The way I used to.

I squeeze my eyes shut, as my cock strains against the sheets.

God. If I touch her in the state I’m in, I’ll tear her apart. Leave her more broken than she already fucking is.

What am I going to do with her?

I was heading for Mountain Lake Falls in the morning, but I can’t leave her, knowing she has nowhere else to go — why else would she come to me? Come home with me when she knows it’ll mean punishment? Maybe endless punishment, because I’m that fucking angry. There must be better options, but here she is, willingly vulnerable in the monster’s lair.

She’s at the end of her rope, then.

It was me or rock bottom. What a choice.

She’s all out of options, and I won’t be able to sit back in the mountains and relax if I’m worried she won’t have food or somewhere secure and warm to stay while she’s this dangerously close to losing her will to live.

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