Page 17 of Psycho

I don’t know if there’s a word for it, but this man is an insane psycho. He cuts into the skin on the side of my breast, not deep enough to cause me to die, but fuck, it stings like a bitch.

“You will cry, little lamb. I’m going to fucking break you, until you have nothing left.”

Leaning down, he licks at the blood on my skin like a wild animal, and the soft lashes of his tongue ease the pain from the cut, but instead of relief, it causes the anger to surge through me.

He drags the knife slowly up my slit and, for a moment, I can’t breathe. The fear is immobilizing. Not that I can move anyway, but I don’t want to be butchered, and I’m pretty sure that’s where we are heading.

Running his tongue over his bottom lip, he arches an eyebrow, and his expression is taunting, as I wonder what the fuck happened to him. What made him turn into this?

“Was it worth it, little lamb? You got nothing, and will give me everything. Even your last breath is mine.”

“No,” I whimper, because, right now, it was not worth it. If he were behind bars, it would have been, but tied to this damn cross, in some darkChristian Greyfantasy? Definitely not.

“Tell me why,” he says, as he lowers his head and stares at me, with a gaze that promises violence. For a moment, I consider telling him everything, including who I am. Massimo is anything but stupid, and will figure it out at some point. Unless he already has, and is playing games with me. I do look different than the last time he saw me. There’s a big difference between thirty-eight and twelve. Would it save me, or infuriate him more?

“I wanted you gone. All of you. The Bonetti Brothers are criminals, that hurt innocent people. I stand before you as evidence.”

He pulls the blade over my nipple, and my breath hitches, as my entire body goes rigid. There is fear, and there is terror, the same thing, only one is more heightened. This is the latter, and he knows it, one look at him, and it’s clear he gets off on it.

“Let’s talk about innocence,Anastasia.” The way he growls my name sends shivers up my spine, and makes me think he does know. Stepping back from me only slightly, he crosses his arms over his chest, and his knife hangs down, still firmly in his grip, as he stares at me with those eyes. The ones I remember from so long ago. He wasn’t friendly all those years ago, but now, his gaze is sadistic, and rattles me to the core, as I’m sure is his intention.

“I don’t cut innocent people. And I don’t kill them either. Nosy bitches, trying to hurt my family, are far from innocent.”

Without warning, he steps closer again, and slashes my nipple, causing me to scream. I’ve never been great at holding my tongue, and I’m not now either, as I speak my mind honestly while he licks at the blood once again, before pulling my nipple between his lips.

“You are a sick and twisted bastard, like your father was.”

Psycho wasn’t exactly a nice man to begin with, but he switches in an instant, to one that turns my blood cold. Pure evil stares back at me. His already dark eyes turn the shade of coal, as his gaze intensifies. The anger is palpable, as he tightens his hold on his knife with a death grip, turning his knuckles white. He presses the blade to my throat, and speaks to me in a dark, threatening tone.

“It would be so easy, little lamb. I could slaughter you right now. All it would take is for me to cut into your flesh right here, and I’d have what I want, to watch you fucking bleed to death. Is that what you want, Anastasia?”

“No,” I whimper quietly, afraid to move a muscle, with his blade pressed to my throat.

“Let’s play a little game.”

He pulls the knife away from my skin, and I take my first full breath in several minutes.

I roll my eyes at him, risking pissing him off, and knowing I shouldn’t. I can’t stop myself.

“I don’t think I want to play any game you’d want to play.”

With a chuckle, he runs his tongue up the side of his blade, licking up the small amount of my blood on it.

“I’ll ask you a question. You’ll answer truthfully, and I’ll answer a question for you in return. As a reward. But,” he points his knife at my face, as an obvious threat, “if you lie to me, I’ll cut you.” Stroking his finger down my cheek, he adds, “Right here. A nice slash, right across this beautiful face.”

I don’t move, but it’s ironic. There was a time I would’ve done anything to hear Massimo call me beautiful. Although, not quite like that.

“How will you know if I’m lying?”

If he already knows the answer to a question, why would he bother asking it?

“I’ll know.”

I swallow hard and ask, “How will I know if you’re telling me the truth?”

He arches an eyebrow, and his lips pull up into a smirk that shouldn’t be attractive. I hate him, and his perfect body. His handsome face can’t have an effect on me. Not his perfectly sculpted arms, or the gorgeous ink covering his upper body, and definitely not his full lips. Most of all, not that deep voice, that makes my insides ache with need. I will not allow it.

“I don’t lie, little lamb. Ever. If I can’t tell the truth, I’ll refuse to answer the question, but you are never leaving, so there’s no reason I can’t answer any question you ask.”

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