Page 53 of Vengeful Rotten Casualties

“What are you doing, sitting in the dark?” she asks.

I stare at her, my gaze cutting through that very darkness she mentioned. She’s changed her clothes. When she left my house earlier, she was wearing a simple outfit of jeans and a t-shirt. The t-shirt has changed into a silken blouse and the jeans into a short black skirt. Is that what she was wearing when she killed him or did she change after? Did he see her bare legs like that? The thought only incites my rage further. Even if he didn’t, he certainly got his hands between them.

When she reaches for the light switch, I stop her. “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t turn on that fucking light, MiKayla.”

She freezes, her hand midair. I never say her full name. Even when we were teenagers and we’d get into minor little spats. I always called her Micki. Never MiKayla. But the woman in front of me isn’t the girl I knew. Tonight taught me that more than anything else ever could.

As if she finally senses the tension in the air, Micki’s hand falls away from the wall. “You’re angry,” she says, her voice a bit breathless.Shocked?I wonder. Yes, I would be shocked, too, if I were her. I’ve never gotten angry at her before. Not like this. Then again, she’s never willingly betrayed me like this, either. There’s a first time for everything, I suppose. God, I wish this wasn’t one of those times.

Rotating my shoulders back, I push up from the couch and stand there for another moment before striding across the room. Micki—to her credit—doesn’t recoil. She doesn’t back away. She stands her ground, and as I approach, her head tips back so she can keep her eyes on mine.

“What happened tonight?” I ask.

Her throat works as she swallows.Nervous?That brings a small smile to my lips. Good. I hope she is. I want her to feel the full effect of my anger and I want her to understand thewhyof it. Maybe then, it’ll get through to her that this—whatever is going on between us—isn’t something she can manipulate.

“Andrew Bennington has been taken care of,” is all she says.

I arch a brow as I lift a hand and touch a lock of hair resting over her shoulder. I roll the strands, separating them between my fingertips. “Is that so?” I lean closer. She takes a step back and another, but I keep moving, backing her into the wall. “What else?”

The corners of her lips tilt down and she shakes her head. “I’m not sure what you mean, Luc, I—”

“Think long and hard,” I interrupt her, unwilling to waste any more time on this back and forth avoidance, “on what you could have possibly done tonight in the midst of taking care of Andrew Bennington that would warrant my anger.” I release her hair and place my hand on the wall, palm down, right over her head. She smells like something smokey, like wet grass and a cool breeze. She’s been outside for a long time. I inhale the scent of it. “Think about it real hard, MiKayla.” I lean against her, dropping my voice. “Because you only get one opportunity to make it right.”

The essence of her invades my nostrils. My nose twitches with irritation. Somewhere beneath the fresh earthy, outdoorsy scent she carries is another smell—cigarette smoke and copper. Against the wall, my fingers curl into my palm.

“Do you have an answer?” I ask her when she still hasn’t spoken. Micki’s body is cold against mine. She doesn’t yield even as I wrap my free hand around her waist and draw her into me.

Where I can’t cage her with bars and chains, I do with my body. Pushing against her, yet also staying just on the brink. Giving her enough space to breathe. To fight me if she has to.

She doesn’t.

“Luc…” She inhales sharply. “I told you that I—”

“That you would do whatever it took?” I finish for her. “And that includes letting another man touch what doesn’t belong to him?”

She scoffs and her hands lift up, pushing against my chest. “For all he knew or thought, Luc, Ididbelong to him once upon a time.”

“I don’t give a fucking shit what he thought,” I snarl, the words ripping out of my throat with a ferocity that shocks her into silence. “Youneverbelonged to him.” My fingers tighten on her side. My hand on the wall slides towards her. I touch the back of her skull, gently at first, sliding my hand into her hair and then tightening my hold as I yank her head back and force her eyes up to meet mine. “You never belonged to any of them. It didn’t and still doesn’t matter how many of them fucked you. Doesn’t matter where they fucked you, how they fucked you, or what you supposedly let them do. They never owned you.”

Her chest rises and falls in rapid movements. “But you do?” she shoots back.

My head dips down until my forehead touches hers. “I certainly hope you didn’t think that I owned you,” I say, “and still let him touch you like he did tonight.” It would be even worse than if she was simply ignorant or in denial.

“It meant nothing,” she says. “It was a means to an end. I killed him. He’s gone and he’ll never hurt me or Dash or anyone else after tonight.”

“But you just had to spread your legs and let him put his fingers where they didn’t belong to get him there, didn’t you?” I want to pull her hair. I want to make her hurt the way I hurt. I want to fucking cry. “You put your lips on his skin and purred for him, didn’t you?”

“Why are you asking me this if you already know, Luc?”

At those words, I pull away and look down at her. Her eyes are shrouded in shadows and secrets. Her expression is impassive. Her guard is up. And the only way to break through is to crack her wide open and make her admit the truth.

I release her hair and grab her wrist, turning down the opposite side of the hallway. She stumbles slightly, nearly tripping as I drag her through the house, back towards the foyer, and up the stairs into the master bedroom.

“Luc!” she calls my name, but I don’t stop until we’re passing through the room, heading for the adjoining bathroom. I flip the switch and the entire room is bathed in light. I wince slightly as it burns into my retinas before pushing her right in front of the mirror. Her body sways before me and her hands go out as I force her front against the counter.

She inhales sharply as her face is met with the image of us as I crowd against her back. I grab her chin and direct it up. “What do you see when you look in this mirror?” I demand.

She shoves her ass back against me, trying to get me to back off. I don’t. I merely grip her chin tighter and anchor her against the sink and counter with my other hand on her hip. “Look at yourself,” I command. “Answer my fucking question, MiKayla.”

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