Page 42 of Mayhem and Minnie

I barely reach the top of the stairs when I hear a loud bang, followed by a muffled whimper.

I stifle a groan.

What the hell did this girl do this time?

Ready to give her a lengthy lecture about her rule breaking—and maybe throw her out into the snow, I march down the stairs with determination. The source of the noise is coming from the kitchen.

But just as I reach the entrance of the kitchen, I stop in my tracks, my eyes wide with shock.

“What the…” I trail off. I blink once, twice—just to make sure I’m seeing this right.

My little heathen is standing in the middle of the kitchen next to a broken plate. But it’s not the shards of porcelain on the floor that grab my attention.

It’s the fact that she’s naked.

Fully naked.

Naked like the day she was born naked.

My body freezes, my eyes zeroing in on her breasts.

For such a slender woman, her breasts are on the heavier side. They’re full and round, with light pink nipples. They’d probably fit in my palms. And I have large palms.

I swallow uncomfortably.

Heat travels up my neck.

I force myself to look away from her breasts, but instead of averting my gaze completely, my eyes follow the contour of her body. Her stomach is taut and her abdominal muscles are showing. Yet I don’t think that’s a consequence of exercise, but rather of starvation. Her ribs, too, are poking through.

Fucking hell!

She will not go hungry anymore—that’s a vow I make to myself. I don’t know where that’s coming from or why I feel so protective over this slip of a girl who goes against every rule I’ve set for myself.

I should focus on ways to kill her to satisfy my bloodlust, not ways to protect her and see to her every comfort.

To my dismay, my eyes betray me once more as I glance lower. There’s a dark triangle of hair at the junction between her thighs, hiding her most private part.

I’ve never believed myself to be the type swayed by such a sight, but there’s a part of me that wants to know the secrets it hides.

I swallow again, and this time, it’s like a knot forms in my throat.

I shouldn’t notice her nakedness. I shouldn’t react to it in any way—I’ve never been prone to such an affliction before. Yet the more I stare at her, the more I feel my body come to life in unfamiliar ways. My clothing becomes restrictive. Even my baggy sweatpants do little to keep my reaction in check.

Fuck! This is blasphemous!

And why the fuck is she not covering herself?

She just stands there, staring back at me with those big doe-like eyes of hers. Her arms are by her sides, and she makes no effort to shield any part of herself.

Is this on purpose?

I narrow my eyes at her.

Is she doing this on purpose in an attempt to seduce me?

Did someone put her up to this?

My family?

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