Page 38 of My Dark Divine
Jesus fucking Christ.
“What happened to you?” I ask cautiously, my eyes locked on the side of his face. Some hair has fallen into his eyes, but he seems completely unaware, staring vacantly ahead while ignoring me. Without a second thought, I reach up to push it aside. The moment my fingertips brush against his heated skin, he flinches, gripping my hand tightly before roughly tossing it back onto my leg.
“West.” I try to draw his focus, but he simply presses down on the gas pedal and drives away without a word. “Are you really going to ignore me the whole trip?” I press, refusing to back down.
He lets out a shaky breath, and I swear I can hear his bones jingle. “Doesn’t sound so bad to me,” he bites, each word a weight he desperately wants to shake off.
“If you’ve forgotten, let me remind you: we’ll be spending a lot of time in public. What will you do when they ask about your face?”
He leans in, turning up the volume of the damn music as he scrolls the dial upward. “It’s none of your business.”
A sharp spike of anger ignites within me, and I barely resist the urge to kick him. Just a day ago, he had me gasping in pleasure, his mouth glued to mine, and now we’re back atthis. It’s not that I expect something miraculous, but I need basic fucking respect.
In a second, my hand is on the volume knob, turning it back to where it was. “It may sound like I do, but I assure you, I don’t give a single fuck who beat you up or what trouble you’ve gotten yourself into again,” I say, noticing the muscle in his jaw clench.
There’s no way I’m leaving him alone after he ruined my neutral mood. Ineedto hit back.
“I’m asking, as I don’t want to be put in an awkward position because of you. How am I supposed to explain that my fiancé is a junkie who attracts trouble?”
“You say that word again, I fucking dare you, Venetia.” His growl echoes, and the way his voice drops to an ominous level sends a shiver down my spine, reminding me of his true nature—a man who can hurt me at will. A ruthless, murderous sociopath who is utterly indifferent to others. “Why can’t you just shut your fucking mouth and let us drive in silence?”
“Because you can’t hide anything from me now that we’re doing everything together!” I explode, my frustration reaching a boiling point. “Why?—”
My words are cut off as he honks the horn and stomps on the brake. It takes a moment to grasp what’s happening as my gaze shifts to the car that tried to overtake us, now blocking half the road.
“Move, you dumb fuck!” he shouts.
The driver merely glances at West and shrugs, unfazed by his yelling. Then, like a maniac, this fucker takes matters into his own hands, jerking the steering wheel to the side and accelerating, throwing me back against my seat as we speed past the car.
“Pathetic piece of shit! Did you get your license from a fucking cereal box?!” he grumbles, venom dripping from his voice, each acidic drop scorching my skin in its wake. “And who the fuck drives a car that shitty these days?”
With my heart beating wildly, I slowly snap back to reality, the weight of it all settling in—West is probably high, badly injured, and on the verge of losing control. We nearly crashed because of him.
“Stop the car,” I demand, my emotions flooding me, leaving no room for restraint. I know we have a plane to catch and a job to do, but I can’t.
I just can’t be near him any longer.
His hand rises, his mouth set in a firm line before his fingers clench into an unsteady fist. “Don’t give me that attitude. Not now, Venetia.”
Hot tears streak down my face, stripping away the last bit of patience I have left. He’s frightening me, and I feel trapped beside him. The walls of the car seem to close in, the pressure suffocating, stealing the air from my lungs. “I said, stop the fucking car. Juststopit.”
I have to get out and breathe. The tension, his unstable energy, and the fear of a looming crash make staying here unbearable. It feels like he’s choking the life out of me. I can’t hear, I can’t see, I can’t move when he’s so close. I want to crawl out, but he drags me down into his personal hell.
Since he won’t listen, I reach for the door, pulling it open in one swift motion. Relief floods me as I realize it’s unlocked,but before I can even move, he grabs my sweatshirt, yanking me back in. I cry out, struggling, but he overpowers me effortlessly.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” he screams, straining to keep his focus on the road. “I swear to God, you’re a fucking crazy bitch!”
Somehow, he leans in and slams the door shut before locking the car with an audible click, grabbing my sweatshirt again. “Crazy? I’m fucking crazy?!” I yell, still struggling against his hold.
He yanks me closer as I kick out in desperation. “Yes, you fucking are!”
My hands strike everywhere I can reach—his legs, his chest, even his face—as I slap him, each hit sending shocks through my stinging palm. “I’ll show you crazy, you psychopathic piece of shit!”
West dodges my attacks and shrugs off the ones that land with ease. “Calm the fuck down, or I swear I’ll knock you out.”
I have no doubts he’d do it. He needs mental help. I’m not saying I don’t need it, but he definitely needs it more.
“Is it crazy enough for you?” Gradually, my anger fades, the fiery strength slipping away with it, leaving me physically and mentally exhausted. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be consumed by rage—it’s like the rush of the strongest drug, euphoric, but the crash is swift and brutal, spreading pain through every inch of me. “Answer me!” I demand, leaning in and tapping my shaking finger against my temple. “Am I the one who’s fucked in the head here? Huh? Am I the fucking psycho, West?”
