Page 10 of Alik

I shake my head and scoot her way just to see what she’ll do, only stopping when our thighs are touching. Her breath is low but erratic, and her fingers twitch. She smells like something sugary… Cookies?

What are they called…?

Snickerdoodles?

I don’t have a sweet tooth, but her scent evokes a rare warm memory deep in my mind, deep enough I can’t recall an image, only a feeling, and my head swims for just a moment at the scent.

“I came to have a drink with you.” I keep my voice low and seductive as I reach for her cup on the table and bring it to her.

“Why?” she whispers.

“Why does any man want to have a drink with a beautiful woman?”

I take her hand and wrap it around the cup before giving her an encouraging smile. She brings the wine to her lips like a good girl, and I watch her throat closely, waiting to see it contract.

It never does.

She’s faking it.

Which means she’s definitely onto me.

The smile slips from my face as she brings the cup down. She’s making a mistake, fighting this. Nikita wants pain. I’m willing to show her mercy. But if she doesn’t drink the goddamn wine, she’ll be awake for everything I do to her.

“Olive.” I lift my hand to her face and push back her hair to take in her features.

I’ve never noticed this before, but she’s attractive in the realist, most imperfect way. She’s … weird. And her eyes are set just a little too far apart, but the color reminds me of the moon and the relief it brings my eyes, sensitive to the harsh sun.

Her nose is a little too round, but the freckles that dot the ivory skin of the bulb give her a youthful appearance. She’s a little too skinny, but her hips curve in tight jeans, and her pronounced collarbone poking from her sweater looks lickable.

She’s not super model perfect. She’s more … real.

I like it.

Her eyes close as my knuckles caress along her jaw. I consider dropping my act and telling her what I have planned, giving her the choice to be smarter. To cooperate. To drink the wine and let this happen. But the way her breath shudders makes me want to keep touching her.

“You shouldn’t hide your pretty face so much.”

She trembles beneath my touch, her pale pink lips parting. She looks scared, but not in the way someone does when they’re about to die. I don’t know what she’s thinking, and that causes more discomfort than I’m used to.

“You’re one to talk.”

Strong words, but she says them in such a weak voice.

I tilt my head. “Hmm?”

“Your hair covers your eyes the same way mine does.”

I smile. She really is cute. “I had an accident when I was younger that made my eyes sensitive to light. I’m not hiding myself.”

“Is that why your eye is red?”

My chest tightens.

She’s just going to come right out and ask about it?

Many talk about it behind my back. No one speaks of it to my face.

I’m not necessarily angry, I’m just … surprised.

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