Page 59 of All Your Hate

I stare numbly at his hand on me. The way it burns through my clothes and heats my skin is comforting. I hate it and I hate myself for wanting more of it.

“Most of the moments where I was awake, yeah, but that was mainly just me waiting alone in the dark." With a sigh, I look at his concerned face. It's confusing why he cares so much about me. "Are you going to tell me why you brought me to my old workplace?”

A deep crease sets in his forehead as he looks from me to the sign on the building. He seems puzzled as he says matter-of-factly, “No, you worked at a restaurant.”

“I think I know where I worked. Anyway, shouldn't you know that already from all the cyberstalking or whatever it was you did?”

“My research told me nothing about you working at a strip club. How long did you work here? Were you servicing the customers?” He’s not even hiding the disgust in his voice.

Tearing his hand from me, I lash out. “So what if I was? Am I too used up for you now or something? It’s fine that I was raped, but god forbid I ever put myself out there willingly.” My voice is filled with hurt. I know how filthy my body is, I don’t need him to make me feel worse about it.

“That’s not what I meant.”

I need to get some air. To have some space away from him.

“Unlock the door,” I shout as I pull on the handle.

“Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” My head’s getting light as I struggle to breathe.

Suddenly his hand is on my throat, pinning me against the seat.

“I need to know whose hands have touched you.”

My vision goes white as he blocks off my blood flow. It doesn’t make me panic though. A stillness settles over me and when he loosens his grip, endorphins flood my body. I gasp in lungfuls of air and it's like I'm breathing him in with his face this close to mine.

“So you can tell me how disgusting I am? Call me broken then fuck me anyway?” I glare at him.

“Wynter. I need to know so I can kill every last person who dared to make you feel that way.”

All those breaths I just managed to take leave my body at once.

“You are nothing less than perfect to me. In fact, you’re more than that. I don’t care how many other men have touched you. What I do care about is how they made you feel. If it was anything less than the overwhelming joy you deserve then they deserve to die.”

He can’t mean that. He can’t.

Just let me hate you.Don’t make this harder than it already is.

His fingers are still on my throat, but he’s not squeezing anymore. He’s stroking my scars.

“I wasn’t a stripper. My job was behind the bar so you don’t need to kill anyone.”

His fury doesn’t lessen at all. I’m not sure if it will until he kills someone or gets something else. Looking down at his lap, I see how hard he is. That can’t possibly be for me?

“What about your boss?” he asks. “I know what he’s like. Did he make you sleep with him?”

I turn my nose up at that image. “Jackson? No.”

That seems to relieve him the tiniest bit and he fully releases my throat. I rub at my windpipe, sure there’ll be a fresh bruise there tomorrow.

Taking a few deep breaths I manage to center myself, but now that I can think straight I’ve noticed how wet I am. Fuck. That is not good. Turns out having a man say he’d kill for me is a turn-on, even when he’s my captor and his hand is around my throat.

“Wait. Why are there no records of me here?” Come to think of it, I remember Kara saying those guys were friends with Jackson. That was right before they took me. “Did he have something to do with me being taken?”

“That is what I intend to find out. Seeing you should jog his memory.”

Just a second ago I thought he might have been planning on killing me and now he wants to kill for me.Things are never going to be simple with him, are they?

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