Page 27 of Slaughter

He continues to stand there, being the dick of a brother he is. I sit back on my heels. I wipe my face with the back of my hand and place my pounding head in my hands.

“Get up.” He finally speaks.

I look up to see a pair of baby blue eyes, and I blink, thinking he’ll go away like magic, but he doesn’t. Avery stands above me. I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. “Is this some kind of a joke?” I ask, looking behind him for my brother. They have to be playing some very shitty trick on me. “Preston?” I call out, and my voice squeaks.

He doesn’t answer or laugh. He’s dressed in a black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms and black slacks with his hands in the pockets. A skinny black tie around his neck. He looks good and dangerous.

His dark blue eyes stare down at me. He doesn’t look annoyed or happy. Just indifferent.

“I said go away,” I snap, narrowing my eyes on him. “I don’t have time for whatever game you’re playing, Avery.” I suck in a long breath and scream out. “Preston …?”

His hand shoots out, and he grabs me by my hair and drags me up off the floor, cutting me off.

My scalp stings, and I hiss in a breath at his roughness. “What the hell …?” I try to fight him off, but he’s too strong. He shoves my back against the cool wall, and my head hits it with a thud. My eyes fall closed as the room starts to spin all over again, making my nausea return.

“Look at me,” he demands as his hand wraps around my throat, holding me in place.

I open my heavy eyes, trying to calm my racing heart. His hand tightens on my neck, and it takes my air away.

His blue eyes narrow on me, and he leans in, placing his face in front of mine. “When I tell you to do something, you fucking do it.”

Gripping his wrist, I try to get his hand off my throat, but it’s no use. My lips part, trying to suck in a breath, but nothing comes. My back presses into the cold wall, and I release his wrist and place them on his black button-down. I try to push him away, but he just steps closer, his body pressing into mine. Dots form in my vision, and tears well up in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall or show any kind of weakness.

Not this time.

Not for this man!

“Do you understand?” he demands.

My mouth opens to answer, but nothing comes out. The dots double, and I can feel my heartbeat in my face, making my already sore cheek throb.

“Answer me!”

“Y-yeesss,” I manage to choke out.

He releases my neck and steps away from me. I crumple to the floor once again like a sack of bricks. My already bruised knees sting from the force of meeting the cold tile. Coughing and holding my neck, I take a deep breath, and it burns. The tears still threaten to fall, but I hold them back.

My headache intensifies, and I feel the rush of blood pounding loudly in my ears.

“Get up.”

I look up at him, and he glares down at me, daring me to defy him again. His hands are back in his pockets, and his muscular legs wide. He looks relaxed, but I can see it in his eyes. He’s waiting for me to disobey again. He wants to slam me back up against the wall, and this time, I have a feeling he won’t let go until I pass out.

Deciding I’m better conscious than knocked out, I slowly rise on my shaky legs. His eyes stay on mine.

“Where the fuck am I, Avery?” I ask, and my voice is scratchy. I’m surprised I was even able to get a word out. “And why did you bring me here?” It doesn’t make any sense. Eleven years and all of a sudden here I am.

He ignores my questions. “Your clothes are in the closet.” He looks me up and down, pulling his lip back in disgust, adding, “You look like shit and need food. Get dressed and meet me downstairs for dinner.” Without waiting for me to argue, he walks out.

I make my way over to the sink on shaky legs and look at myself in the mirror. I have a bruise on my cheek, a cut on my lip, and bruises dot my shoulders and arms. I know they’re not from him. They are from the five men who I tried to fight last night. No matter what I did, they were ready for it.

I turn the sink on and splash my face with cold water and then rinse my mouth out. I see a toothbrush and toothpaste sitting on the countertop, and I snatch them, needing to get the taste of vomit and lingering Fireball out of my mouth.

Once done with that, I yank the towel off the railing and dry my face, careful of the bruises.

I look at myself once again. My tank top is covered in dirt from being shoved down to the ground last night, and it hurts to swallow.

Avery can kiss my ass!

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