Page 66 of Bound to a Monster

Chapter 26

Carmie

It’s like a ritual for me. I head up into my room, close the door, put on cute clothes—tonight it’s a pair of soft shorts, no panties, and a thin cotton t-shirt—and hope that Lev shows up. Lately, I’ve been disappointed and end up falling asleep without that creepy mask appearing in my door. But I still hope anyway.

I feel pathetic like I’m pining after someone that doesn’t give a shit about me. And really, he made it clear from the start how he feels. I’m nothing to him, and if it weren’t for this baby, I don’t think he’d even know I existed.

But for some reason, finding out he knocked me up turned him into a total psychopath.

In a weirdly good way.

I’m starting to think it’s another worthless night. My eyelids flutter and I’m thinking about that fencing gym. I picture myself on the piste, in my stance, balancing my sabre, ready to lunge forward and scream in primal victory. I want to impress Aline more than anything in the world and I don’t even know her.

I don’t know why I crave approval so much.

It was like this with my dad—I was a good little Italian daughter because it made him so happy.

Now I look back and wonder why I cared so much.

There’s a sound in the hallway. I’m sitting up as the door opens. My heart’s racing with surprise—it’s later than he normally appears. But it’s definitely him.

Lev, wearing the fencing mask.

“Get up,” he says. His tone is gruff, almost aggressive. He gathers my kit and throws it at me. There’s nothing gentle or kind in his body language, and he’s dressed for a workout.

For a real workout, not the kind I was expecting.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re going to spar again.” Then he’s gone. I hear him stomp down the stairs, and I have no clue where this sudden anger is coming from.

I’m nervous as I get out of bed and slowly dress. Why does he seem like he’s pissed? He’s usually intense, maybe a little aggressive, but notangry.

This feels different, like I’m walking into a trap.

Only I don’t understand why.

Curiosity and frustration drive me after him. Once I’m geared up, I head down into the basement, doing some light jumps and skips on the way to loosen up.

He’s looming on the piste. There’s no other way to describe it. He’s got a foil in his hand and mine’s lying on the floor ten feet in front of him. I grab my mask from a chair and jam it down before stooping to lift my weapon.

“What are the?—”

He doesn’t even give me a chance to put on my mask. His sword drives at my chest and he’s snarling like a rabid animal. I dance back, parrying his thrust, and get myself set as he recovers.

“I was beginning to think we could do this,” he says, his voice thick and heavy. He’s emotional right now, but I don’t understand why.

“What are you talking about?”

“Maybe we were never going to have a normal relationship. But who the fuck would want that?” His sword slices out. If it were real and sharp, it would cut my throat open. I jerk back, recover my footing, and let out a shout as I press forward.

He moves back as I throw a barrage of jabs and lunges at him, trying to catch him off-guard. I score a few touches, but it doesn’t matter. There are no rules right now. I don’t even understand what we’re doing.

“This is how people get hurt,” I snap at him, finishing my push with a touch on his shoulder.

He whips his foil at me and I have to pull away to keep it from slapping me on the wrist.

“Maybe I want to hurt you. Maybe you should feel the way I feel right now.”

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