Page 13 of Burn for Me

Nothing.

A smattering of freckles covered her nose, drawing my finger to them. I traced my way along her cheek before following the dried tear tracks that punctuated her sooty cheeks, marking a path down to her lips.

The impulse to press my fingers into her mouth was overwhelming.

Unhinged.

I knew I had to fight whatever urges stirred within me, but having this pretty, broken little thing in my bed was a heady temptation.

A yawn stole over me, and I rested my hand back down over her waist, the crispy red streaks of her dress rough against my fingers.

When I wake up, I thought,I’ll clean her up and fix her.

Mend her like a broken toy that’s been discarded. Stitch her up. If she survived, she’d become my most prized possession. I wouldn’t be so careless with her.

My eyes fluttered shut as I teetered on the edge of sleep. I wanted to remove my lower face mask to stop the itching,however, if she woke, she might be even more frightened . So I’d hide my monstrous side—or sides—from her.

For now, at least.

Sighing, I breathed her in. She smelled like smoke and copper. As sleep finally claimed me, I smiled to myself, imagining what her soft, clean skin would smell like while she lay beside me.

SEVEN

Laura

An odd little tug at my chest made me squirm in bed, my soft sheets bunching beneath my sticky skin.

Why was I so hot?

A sharp piercing sensation jolted me out of that plane between sleeping and awake, my eyes snapping open as a curse died in my raspy throat.

A dryness filled my mouth, and my tongue lay swollen and sore against my teeth. Inhaling made my lungs burn as I stared at an unfamiliar wooden ceiling. The panelling was in a soft, smooth-looking oak that made my brain stutter.

The same strange tugging sensation had me looking down at my chest, where a set of calloused hands pressed a needle into my bare flesh. Panic ripped through me, and I tried to roll away from the dark pair of eyes focused on my face.

Rough rope secured both my wrists and ankles to the bed.

‘Let me go,’ I croaked as the events at my home camecrashing back into my mind. The fire. The blood. The masked man.

His lower face remained covered by a stretchy cloth mask emblazoned with that same phoenix emblem, but the heavy gas mask was gone.

He didn’t answer my plea. With a forceful hand on my ribcage, he pinned me to the bed and resumed his stitching at a hole in my chest.

‘Please, take me to a hospital. You need to let me go to the police. He killed my family.’

Each sharp pierce of the needle took my breath away as the man ignored me entirely, focusing only on the neat little stitches that knitted my flesh back together. When I attempted to pull away, he gave me a pointed look with those inky brown eyes and dug his fingertips harder into my ribs.

It took a few moments for the reality of my situation to hit me. My cheeks flamed at the lack of my clothing. He must have removed my dress, leaving me in nothing but a pair of panties. I tensed my fists, feeling the ropes tighten at the movement, anger flooding me to replace the shame my near nakedness brought.

It’s so he canstitch you.

I hoped the little voice inside my head was right.

He’s trying to help.

Idiot. Helping me would have been calling an ambulance, not stitching me like a sock that needed darning.

Closing my eyes to hide from his intense gaze, I took a slow breath. If he’d intended to kill me, he wouldn’t be trying to help me.

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