Page 36 of A Twisted Arrangement

He chuckles and bites my thigh. “I’ve pictured this countless times, but nothing I thought of had anything on the reality.”

I’m still trying to process that when he slips a finger inside of me. The stretch, combined with his mouth, has every thought melting from my mind.

The only thing left is the craving for more. Like there’s a deep yearning for something only he can give.

My fingers dig into his hair, and he groans, sliding a second finger into me.

The world swims as every muscle tightens in my body, as if he’s pulling invisible strings only he can see. My hips rock uncontrollably against his face, tilting with each thrust of his fingers. I’m so close it hurts, and he doesn’t disappoint, curving his fingers deeper and sucking hard on my clit until my release ricochets through me.

He doesn’t stop until he’s wrung every ounce of my orgasm out of me.

He pulls up, wiping his mouth lasciviously.

“Run along now, Little Sparrow. Or I won’t be responsible for what happens to you.”

Chapter 18

Matthias

I wipemy thumb over my bottom lip as the door closes behind her and slip it between my teeth. Her sweet taste fills my mouth, drawing a low groan from the back of my throat.

“Enjoy your three days of freedom, Little Sparrow.”

Chapter 19

Scarlet

I’mcareful not to snag my clothes on the exposed nails lining the narrow hallway. It’s barely wide enough for me to walk without having to turn sideways. The only light is coming from the cracks around the door seam up ahead. I’ve spent a lot of time making my way through these narrow passageways, learning each turn in order to move about the house freely. But tonight is different. The walls seem to be squeezing around me, and the air is heavy, making each breath harder than the last. There’s noise up ahead, and I should turn away, hide somewhere deep within the castle where no one can find me, but I can’t stop myself from moving forward. The closer I get, the clearer the sounds. There’s a muffled thud that repeats itself over and over like a bat hitting a rug. I move closer, careful to stay hidden behind the door, and press my ear against the wood. It’s then that I can hear the low groans that accompany each hit. It’s a pained, whimper sound that has every nerve in my body coming alive. I carefully shift so I can see through the minuscule crack and gasp. It’s me lying on the ground, hair splayed out around me and blood trickling from my mouth. My brother Christopher’s standing above me, screaming about how I’m a traitor and a dirty whore. That I sold myself to theEverette brothers. My copy stares up at him, defiance in her eyes, even as his foot comes slamming toward her. The image flickers, and instead of me getting ready to take the blow, Matthias is in my place. He’s sprawled out on the ground, collar chaining him to the wall and his handcuffs pinning his wrists together. That doesn’t stop him from spitting in my brother’s face, daring him to do his worst.

Matthias is so young and so much smaller than the last time I saw him. There’s fear in his eyes that I was too naive to recognize before, but that doesn’t stop him from antagonizing Christopher again, each time drawing all the attention to him and away from my door. A bat materializes out of nowhere into Christopher’s hand, and he swings it down toward him. It’s too fast, too hard. I push against the door, crying out for them to stop, when my father appears in front of me, a sneer on his face. Thick fingers wrap around my neck, and he hauls me off my feet, pinning me to the wall. I quake against his hold, scratching at his arms, but my father’s grip doesn’t loosen. He laughs at what a waste I am and how he should’ve disposed of me long ago, that pretending to love me disgusted him.

The air chokes from my lungs as I watch the hate burn in his blue eyes that match mine.

Those blue eyes turn black, and instead of disdain, they’re full of betrayal as Matthias screams at me for hurting his brothers. I struggle to speak, needing to explain that everything will work out in a minute, that he just has to wait. That I would never betray him.

Matthias won’t let go, his grip turning harder and harder, but it’s the tears in his eyes that have me going still. There’s pain written all over his face, and it’s directed at me.

He’s repeating the same words over and over again, but they don’t make sense. Wake up, Scarlet. Wake up!

I snap awake, shooting up into a seated position as I gasp for breath. I haven’t had that dream for several years. Tears burn my eyes as I force myself to count to ten over and over again until some semblance of sanity returns to my body, allowing it to take over itself again. I pull my knees to my chest, my cream sheets surrounding me as I try to work through the feeling of helplessness, reminding myself that it was a long time ago. I’m not that girl anymore, and my brother and father are dead.

Cool air raises goose bumps along my arms. The window on the far wall is cracked open, the latch undone. I search the room, but I’m alone. There’s not even a shadow out of place. Dropping my chin against my knees, I sigh, then force myself out of bed. I must have opened it at some point last night.

A chill rolls through me as I pull myself out of bed and close it tight, locking it firmly in place.

I check the clock at the blaring green numbers announcing it’s 4:00 a.m. Too early to go to work, too late to go back to sleep. The feeling of helplessness is still weighing heavily on my mind as I crack my neck back and forth, grabbing a pair of leggings and a hoodie from my dresser. I’m not that girl anymore. If that same thing happened today, I’d have my father squirming on the floor and my brother between the sights of my gun.

I shove my feet into the stretchy black legging fabric. There’s only one thing that’s going to stop this haunting feeling.

I send Oliver a quick text, knowing when he wakes up, he’ll lose his mind when he finds out I’ve left the house without him.

Pulling my hoodie over my head, I let it drop over me, making me look bigger than I am before I step out into the cool night. My sneakers are silent as they tap with every stride across the paved sidewalks. The entire area is washed with the orange glow from the overhead streetlights that disappears into pure blackness between the houses.

I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, tempering the rhythm of my heart. I’d discovered running as a form of therapy shortly after everything went down. It’s like I quite literally got my wish to escape, and there was nothing holding me in place. The freedom I feel while my feet thrust me forward at a pace most people can’t keep up with provides me with an unexplainable thrill. I’m sure it’s similar to the adrenaline skydivers get, but for me, it’s the freedom each step provides me. Unfortunately, it’s become my own form of addiction. More than once, Oliver has caught me pushing my one-hour run to two, chasing the high that the long distances push through my veins. Sometimes it feels like I’m running toward someone, like if I can just push myself a little faster, I’ll be able to grasp onto them.

Other times, I want whatever’s chasing me to catch up, to wrap me in their arms and force me to finally be still. To finally feel safe enough to not have to flee anymore.

It’s those times I know I’ve lost it because no matter what, I know no one can make me feel safe like that. It’s completely left to me.

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