Page 79 of Barbi and the Villain

“That’s my girl,” he rasps against my ear, the praise feeding my ego like his blood feeds my essence. “Drink me up. Every drop. Every fucking drop, Mo.”

Mo.

Mo.

Mo.

The word echoes in my mind, a thousand warning bells going off at once.

When he was mumbling it before, I thought it was merely an incoherent word.

But it’s not, is it?

My body goes slack under him.

It’s not what I think it is…right?

He peppers kisses all along my jaw, his fangs grazing my flesh as he licks his way toward my lips.

“My girl,” he whispers. “My Mo.”

I freeze.

My stomach plummets, a wave of nausea rolling over me.

Before his lips can touch my own and steal my first kiss, I muster up all my strength and push him off me, moving my head out of the way so I can drag a deep breath into my battered lungs.

My lashes are damp and tears burn behind my retina.

Inhale. Exhale.

The sky is closing in on me as the burn in my chest becomes an unbearable inferno. But not one of pleasure. It’s one of pain.

He rolls away from me.

He blinks slowly, clarity entering his gaze, and with it, a harsh look that speaks more than a thousand words. His cheek twitches. His mouth is set in a grim line as he sets his deadly glare on me.

Then he proceeds to kill me with five words.

“You are not my Mo.”

We stare at each other in silence, both breathing hard.

He wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, the gesture one of disgust. A feral expression claims his features as his nostrils flare.

“I—” I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off.

“Go to sleep, Barbi,” he orders, his voice vibrating in the air.

I lick my lips, tasting his residual blood, and I falter.

“Go to sleep. Tomorrow we will leave at first light.”

“We should talk about this. About?—”

“There is nothing to talk about. Go. To. Sleep.”

His eyes flash at me and I scurry away from him, running back to the tent.

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