Page 9 of Slaughter

Music fills my bedroom to try to drown out her voice, so my brothers don’t hear her screams of pleasure.

“I’m coming.” She pants, her nails digging into my back. “Oh, God …” I lower my lips to hers to swallow her words. The music not helping much.

I’ll find out soon.

The song “You Don’t Own Me” by Grace comes to an end, and she leans in, speaking into his ear before she walks off the dance floor toward the ladies’ room.

I finish my glass and set it down on the table. I get up and make my way over to him, shoving the people out of my way in the process. Grabbing the back of his shirt, I pull him over to the far corner in the darkness. He trips over his own feet but manages to stay upright.

I slam his back against the black wall and stare down at him. “Find your own whore. She’s mine. Understand?”

Brown eyes look up at me, wide with terror, and he throws his hands up and nods quickly.

I punch him in the face just because I fucking can. I yank him from the wall as blood runs from his nose and shove him forward. He takes off into the crowd while the music continues to pound the floor under my feet.

Going against my better judgment, I take off down the hallway to the women’s restroom. I walk on in and find two girls who look too young to be in this club. Their eyes widen in surprise when they notice me. When I snap my fingers and point at the door, they run out without a word. I lock it behind them, then turn around and lean against it. Placing my hands in the pockets of my slacks and crossing my ankles, I wait for her to exit the stall, trying to look unaffected even though my heart is pounding at the thought of coming face to face with her. After all this time … I swore I’d never call her. Never chase her. She made her decision, and I had to live with it.

Now she is wanted by the exact men we swore we would never become. And even though I hate her with all I have, it doesn’t mean I want her sucked into a life of slavery. A life of being raped and beaten. If anyone is going to fuck her, it should be me! If anyone is going to whip that ass, it should be me! I’ve earned it! I fucking loved her until she ruined me. And she doesn’t even care. She never looked back. But now she will. Now I get to remind her that the past always catches up with you. And she’s not going to like it.

She walks out of her stall, not even noticing me as she makes her way to the sink and washes her hands. Opening her mouth, she runs her tongue over her strawberry-painted lips, the motion reminding me just how much I used to love them on me. How they would sigh while I made love to her. How they would call out my name when she was coming. Or how they would kiss my chest softly while we lay in bed together afterward. I hate that other men get to experience that now.

After she dries off her hands, she turns to exit. Her heels clap on the floor, but she fumbles to a stop when she sees me.

And all I can think about is how much I hate her now. How much she took from me. This bitch is my heaven and my hell. My angel and my demon. And here I am, staring down the very woman I gave everything to, only for her to take it and run, never looking back.

Big blue eyes stare into mine with a look of terror. Good, she recognizes me. Even in her drunken state, and eleven years later, she still knows who I am.

Her pink lips part, inhaling sharply. Her entire body goes rigid. I take a step toward her as she pulls me in just as she always did. I never could control myself with her. But this time has to be different. I have to be in total control of myself and of her.

She doesn’t move.

She doesn’t blink.

She doesn’t breathe.

Deciding to close the gap completely, I take two more steps until my body is close enough to feel the heat radiating from hers. Her long, dark hair drapes over one shoulder, and it looks good on her. She loved when I used to run my hands through her short hair and play with it. Now I just want to wrap it around my fists and force her to her knees. We never did fuck. We made love—always soft and slow. Now when I picture us in bed together, she is bound and gagged. That way, she won’t be able to stop all the sadistic shit that comes to mind.

I’ve become one of those men I swore to never be! All because of her.

I want her to beg me.

I want her to bleed for me.

I want her to love me.

But I’m not stupid. None of those things will come willingly. I’m gonna have to take them. And I have no problem with that. She made me who I am today, after all.

She continues to stand there like a deer in headlights. I give her a threatening smile but reach out to tuck her hair behind her ear in an innocent gesture when what I really wanna do is slap that look of surprise off her face.

Her body physically shakes.

“Hello, Bunny. Miss me?”

PRESLEIGH

Blood rushes in my ears. My heart pounds in my chest, and my palms instantly start to sweat.

If the sight of him alone hasn’t knocked the wind out of me, calling me Bunny does the trick.

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