Page 55 of Scorched King

“Cash.”

But he didn’t release me, instead his grip tightened.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You aren’t afraid of me are you?”

“No” I said, but it sounded more like a question than a vote of confidence so I added as calmly as I could, ”Of course not.”

“Good. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

Those words should have reassured me, but something was off. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but I could feel to my bones that something wasn’t right. I was in danger and I needed to get away.

He also had not let go of my arm and the squeeze of his fingers on my skin was tighter than it should be.

“It’s a shame about these scars though. You were such a good dancer. I always thought your talent was wasted at the poker club.”

Whether it was the reminder of my mangled flesh or the word poker, but that day came rushing back in a flash of memory, stealing my breath.

I could feel the heat on my skin as the room erupted in flames. My memory of most of that day was kind of a blur. At night I had dreams about it, well, nightmares really. The massive wave of heat that had blasted into me, followed by the blistering pain.

There hadn’t even been time to cry out for help before I lost consciousness. One second I was hit, and the next it was all over. I was burning to death.

Axel had been the one to fill in most of the blanks because he’d found me, thrown his body down on mine and rolled us in an attempt to put out the fire engulfing me.

I woke up often mid nightmare, my body aching from what the psychologist referred to as ghost pain. I also vaguely remembered seeing someone there with me. Axel I assumed. Or the Governor’s aide. He’d gone to the restroom just before the explosion and I’d never seen him again.

Survivor’s guilt. It was the official term for the cause of my nightmares. I’d lived thanks to Axel, while the Governor’s aide had not.

But as I looked into Cash’s eyes as his grip tightened, I swear I saw flames dancing in them. I tried to shake that off as well as his grip, but he refused to let go.

“What are you doing?” I seethed. “That hurts.”

“It’s all a shame really. You weren’t supposed to be there that day. No one was.”

The tone of his voice scraped along my skin like a sharpened nail. Something was very wrong. “Cash. Let me go!” I jerked harder and this time his grip loosened enough for me to get free, but I also lost hold of the towel as it fell to the ground.

“You shouldn’t have been there,” he repeated.

I bent to scoop up the towel and tried to cover myself as I backed away. He was between me and the door and there was no way to escape. I did the only thing I could. I ran for the bathroom.

But he was too fast, or I was too slow. I slammed the door behind me but he caught it with his foot and slammed it open, catching my right shoulder with the door and knocking me to my hands and knees.

“What? Why?” With the pain in my shoulder and the fear coursing through me I couldn’t form more than a couple of words.

“No one was supposed to get hurt,” he repeated. “Well, no one important,” he amended. “The loss of the prospect was unfortunate, but it was a price I was willing to pay.”

“You were there.” I finally got a coherent sentence out of my mouth as another flash of memory worked free.

“You just now put that together? Wow. I was sure by now you had to have figured it out and it was only a matter of time before I’d have to do this. Bear even told me you’ve had nightmares of that night. It’s a shame really. A pretty thing like you getting in the way. Bitches just can’t stay out of the way.”

Before I could respond to him, or catch my breath, he grabbed me by the back of my neck and hauled me to my feet. That tight squeeze of his beefy hand set alarm bells off in my head. He was too strong. I couldn’t fight him. Not without some sort of weapon. I glanced around the room for something to grab, but there was nothing.

Since this wasn’t my place, I’d gone out of my way to put all my girly stuff in the cabinet so JD’s bathroom would look exactly as I’d found it every time I walked out.

“Don’t do this. Please.” I wasn’t above begging. Not yet.

“Like I said. You shouldn’t have been there that day and then this wouldn’t have to happen.” I felt his hand slide around to the front of my neck and squeeze harder. I grabbed at his hand first, but he simply added the second and tightened his grip as he backed me against the wall.

I swung out and tried to break his hold to no effect. His hand tightened a fraction more—enough to cut off my air.

---