Page 29 of Their Dark Rose

“Until dinner,” the others join him, like they’re a part of a secret society performing a ritual.

Heat, worse than before, spikes up my neck, my cheeks. Behind my eyes.

Each breath is labored as I feel these men’s eyes on me.

They’ll sense my weakness, I remind myself. They’ll sense it, and they’ll finally pounce. Lock me up and torture me for infinity for the pain Dad caused them.

I’m appalled at the idea.

I’m appalled at the idea that I might like it, too.

“Princess, now.”

With one final inward fuck it, I start.

“This heart of mine is cruel and ravenous.

In the night, she whispers she’s hungry for blood.

She longs to break my bully’s skin.

To tear at my monster’s scalp.

To force a smile out of my joker.

To feed off them. To touch them.

My heart is a feral woman. Relentless huntress.

My heart needs.

I restrain her.

She desires.

I sedate her.

She wants me to scream the truth, and every time I tell her…

Never.”

I let out a long sigh when I’m finished.

That’s it. The poem is out there. There’s no taking it back.

Mason’s and Finn’s hands aren’t on me anymore.

They’re quiet. Leaving me to stew.

I knew Falk would read this poem when I wrote it. I should’ve realized the sadistic fuck he is, he’d find a way to let his brothers in on the party.

I just didn’t imagine it would be from my lips. On my knees.

Another form of his torture.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I wait there, staring at my poem. Expecting them to do something. Anything.

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