Page 30 of The Devil's Weakness

But he’ll never be part of that.

Maybe under much different circumstances...

Taking the water, I unscrew the cap. As I guzzle the liquid down, my mind pictures him on top of me again. His tongue roving my body. His fingers exploring my skin. His lips kissing every inch of me. I bet his life is full of adventure. Nothing tying him down. No worries in the world. He can hop on his bike and go anywhere his heart desires. The thought of it has my jealousy in a rage.

“Do you always talk in your sleep?” he questions, towering over me.

His question catches me off-guard, and I spit out some of the water in my mouth.

Oh, shit.

What the fuck did I say?

I want to crawl under a rock and die, spying the smug grin on his face when I look up at him. I ignore his question.

“You’re lying,” I accuse.

I want to end this conversation before he confirms what I’m trying to deny.

“You moaned my name,” he assures me with a satisfied look on his face.

It makes me angry, and I lash out.

“I was having a nightmare. You played a starring role.” I spit at him. “What the hell kind of name is Blade, anyway? Did your parents hate you or something?”

A darkened flash of pain slices through his gun-metal stare. Something I said hit a nerve.

“It’s a nickname,” he lashes out between clenched teeth.

Goosebumps break out over my body. I look at him nervously, taking in the vicious look in his eye coupled with his sinister smile. Suddenly, I don’t want to know why they call him that.?

“They call me Blade because that’s my weapon of choice,” he explains. “I prefer to slice my victims open because I enjoy watching the blood seep through their torn skin.”

I struggle to swallow down the fear that he’s trying to emit from me. I have no doubt that he could tear someone from limb to limb if they crossed him like I did. But even after everything that transpired at the motel this morning, I don’t believe he’d be able to hurt me. He had plenty of time and chance to do so.

I take another long drink of water. It’s the only thing I’ve consumed all day. I’m starving after nothing but coffee yesterday. I doubt they’re going to serve me food during mystay.It’s not like I’m at some first-class resort. I don’t even know what time it is. Is it still light out? Nighttime? Did I sleep through to the next day?

“What time is it?” I inquire.

“Almost five,” he answers.

“In the evening?”

He nods.

I’ve been out for nearly eight hours. My empty stomach rumbles, angry that the water I just drank is the first thing I’ve consumed all day. I need real food.

“You’re hungry,” he tells me as if I don’t know.?

I don’t want to need anything from him, so I stay quiet. He takes my silence as a challenge and flips the chair around in front of me, sitting backward on it.?

“I’m attempting to make your time here a little easier for you, but if you’d prefer making it hard, then I’m not going to stop you.”

The wordsmaking it hardring in my head, and I remember the feeling of his erection on my stomach earlier this morning. I don’t appreciate the fact that my mind can’t seem to stray from that single thought at the moment. I scoff at myself, but he thinks it’s directed at him.?

“Suit yourself,” he says, rising from the chair.

When he pushes the door open, I fold.

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