Page 32 of To Hell

I want her to want me, not for her to think that she has to.

That should be the only fucking acceptable way to have her. Not that I can have her right now, knowing the complications that would come with that.

The last thing I need is to block the path to her dream, the path I will carve out for her.

She turns slowly, lips twitching and eyes fluttering. She takes cautious strides toward me, and as if the gnaw dredging through me was not enough, she grinds my heart by kneeling at my feet.

For fuck’s sake!

I want to bark at her to get the fuck off the floor, but I’m caught between wanting to blur the lines and needing to keep them sharp and visible. The constant need to want to let her see me and feel free, but the weight of responsibility squeezing the air out of me.

And the only way to bear that responsibility is to show her I’m her master.

I grind my teeth and sink my nails into my palms until I rip my skin and draw blood.

“Is this what you meant?” Her voice is low, still, but shaky. I can’t say if it’s the aftermath of the orgasm or fear.

I have no idea what she is talking about, and even if I do, I clip my tongue to prevent myself from saying anything to her. I won’t have the right words, and I won’t ruin this further.

“When you said I would have to do anything you asked me to,” her voice turns whispery, and the sting on my scars pricks in a streamline to gather in the corner of my eye. The eye that was almost affected by the fire, “Was this what you meant?”

This wasn’t what I meant. This wasn’t supposed to be anything near what I meant. This was a mistake in a sense. I messed up. And I was right to think she only did this because she felt forced to please her master.

I stand, trying as hard as possible to shuffle things back in place. I need to take back control. I need to ruin the moment we just had and make the thought of fucking me repulsive to her.

“No. This was a mistake, Zoe.” Admittedly, it was a mistake, but not in the way I’m making it out to be. Still, I continue, “I didn’t buy you to fuck you,” No, I fucking did not, but I’m not so sure of that anymore. “I don’t have to pay for sex.”

I don’t have to look at her to feel the drop in her mood. It’s heavy, hanging around like a fog. I know she is hurt.

I stalk over to the punching bag, and I can feel her eyes trailing me, drilling holes into my back. I take a short breath, stop by the punching bag, and clasp my hands around it.

I suck in the itchiness on the side of my body, then prep myself by putting an inch of space between the punching bag and myself. I unleash my frustration on it with the first hard punch.

I have hated my life for the longest time, but today, I hate life more than I ever did any other day. I hate having something I have always wanted and knowing I should not keep it. I hate that I have to question my intentions. I hate that I cannot tell her the truth.

But it is better this way. Putting some distance between us will help.

I might hate it, but it will just add to the million other things about my life that I fucking hate.

I swoosh another punch on the bag.

Chapter Eighteen

ZOE

“This was a mistake.”

His words are like a maul slamming into my heart, my brain, and every organ in my body. It feels like a physical blow, yet I cannot reach and take care of it, for it is someplace I cannot touch; it’s deep in my soul.

“This was a mistake, I don’t have to pay for sex.”

Of course, he wouldn’t have to pay for sex. A man like him would have women around him like moths to a flame, offering themselves on a platter without a second thought of getting consumed. They would love the burn. And it is inevitable to be with him and not get consumed.

He is intense. It’s in the way he speaks. It’s in the spellbinding way he stares right into my soul like he can see more than anyone else. It’s in the gracious way he carries himself.

Not to mention how he looks physically. He is heavenly and entrancing. He combines beauty and beast in a perfect, mesmerizing symphony. The charge gushing out of him is evocative and riveting.

I coil my legs in, finding a comfortable position to sit as I crane, following him as he struts gallantly to the speed bag I had missed when I came in. It’s at the far end of the room, blending perfectly with the colors.

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