Page 74 of The First Cut
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lola
Ibite my lip, unsure of what to say or how to process everything that just went down. I was so sure everyone was going to ostracize me, at least while Hannibal wasn’t looking, but it wasn’t like that at all. Okay, it was awkward in the beginning. I wasn’t sure what to expect, and it put me on edge. People were quiet around me, but I didn’t feel the same waves of hostility I usually did. Instead, there was an odd sense of guilt in the air, and for once, it wasn’t mine.
When Razzle approached, I thought things were going to take a turn for the worse. But Elmo was right there, making it clear to everyone whose back he has. To say I was shocked dumb would be an understatement. Hannibal’s reaction was less surprising, at least to me. I know what kind of man he is, and despite our relationship not being a conventional one, the man is protective of me to a fault.
Hannibal makes me feel owned in a way that would have feminists around the world screaming. Perhaps the most surprising thing is how much I like it. Yeah, that might make me a fool, but I can’t find it in me to care. If anything positive hascome out of the last few years, it’s that I’ve become the queen of silver linings.
I look at him as he closes the door and tosses his keys on the side table I moved near the door for just that purpose.
“What’s that look for?” I startle, realizing I’m not being as discreet as I hoped.
“I’m just trying to work everything out.”
“What’s there to work out?” he questions, stalking toward me.
I back up out of instinct, my back colliding with the wall. When I notice where I am, my heart skips a beat as memories assault me. Hannibal presses me to the wall and starts kissing my neck, oblivious to there being anything wrong. I try to open my mouth to tell him to stop, but I can’t get any air in my lungs.
Suddenly, it’s Driller’s hands pawing at me, and his mouth on my neck, and I’m waiting for the blow to my stomach…but it never comes. I make a high-pitched keening noise, sounding like a wounded animal. Hannibal yanks his head back, looking at my face. Whatever he sees has him cursing up a storm as he swoops down, picks me up, and carries me over to the sofa.
He sits down with me in his lap and cups my face with his hands. “Breathe for me, Lola,” he orders.
I try, I really do, but there just doesn’t seem to be any air in my lungs. With my eyes filled with panic, I grab his cut and begin to ask him silently to help me. Leaning forward, he puts his lips to mine and blows air into my mouth. The move shocks me so much I take a startled breath.
“That’s it, doll. Now take another one.”
I do as he asks and suck in a lungful of air before slowly blowing it back out. I keep doing it until I don’t feel like I’m going to pass out anymore. All the while, Hannibal strokes his hand over my stomach, murmuring words of comfort to my son.
“Mama’s okay, Bubba. She’s got you and me to?—”
I lean forward and kiss him, stealing the words from the man who is quickly stealing my heart.
“Thank you.” I breathe against his mouth, tasting the salt of my tears.
“Doll,” he growls, the sound making my nipples pebble.
He’s hard beneath me, and a part of me knows it’s because of my tears. As much as he doesn’t like me hurting, he can’t help that he gets off on it. As fucked-up as I am, can I hold his quirks against him, when he doesn’t blink when my issues spill over?
“I want you to fuck me.”
He wraps his hand in my hair and yanks my head back, licking the trail of tears from my cheek.
“Be very sure, Lola. I won’t be gentle, and if you’re feeling fragile?—
“I want you to break me, Hannibal.”
With a snarl, he has me up and off his lap as he rips my clothes to shreds. Standing before him naked, I feel vulnerable and anxious, but I’m not afraid. Maybe everything I went through with Driller was fate’s way of making me strong or readying me for Hannibal. I know how to dance with monsters. I’ve learned the steps and remember the tune as I slip into the role required of me. Only this time it’s on my terms.
“So pretty,” Hannibal speaks, his voice as cold as frost as his monster slips the reins and takes over. He takes his scalpel from his cut and drags the flat edge of it across my skin. “I’ve pictured laying in a pool of blood while I fuck you. Your eyes are glazed over, staring sightlessly at the ceiling as I move inside you.”
I swallow hard, my blood rushing through my veins as the urge to flee takes hold. I fist my hands and hold my ground. He’s testing me, seeing how far he can push before I break.
“Does it have to be my blood?”
He grins. The smile is off though, making him look manic.
