Page 22 of Property of Necro
He won’t be smiling when I cut off his dick.
Necro advances another step, then two, and when we’re almost toe-to-toe, he wraps a hand around my throat.
Without thinking, I knee him in the junk with all I have.
Then, wait for him to go down, but nothing happens.
Not even a wince.
The grip around my throat is warm as he squeezes enough to assert himself but not enough to cut off my blood supply.
He doesn’t even seem pissed I tried to hurt him.
He doesn’t seem to feel anything.
“What do you want?” I shove at his rock-hard stomach, hoping he’ll let go.
He nods toward the casket.
My bottom lip wobbles. “I can’t sleep in there.”
Necro’s brow raises as if calling me a liar.
“Fine,” I huff. “I won’t. I don’t like the dark.”
He shrugs up a single muscled shoulder and drops it as if he doesn’t care what I want and is determined to get his way, regardless of how I feel. That much is evident when he applies pressure to my throat.
He can’t do this.
Why does he hate me so much?
I was meant to be his gift.
Clawing at his hands, my nails bite into his flesh as I try to make him let me go, but he doesn’t. When I struggle to kick and try to scream, it comes out as a raspy gargle, and still, he doesn’t relent. With those eerie eyes locked on mine, I fight to remain conscious and swing on him until my last breath.
And when my world descends into darkness, I vow to ruin him forever.
Chapter
Nine
Wearinga hole through the floor of my bedroom, I punch the air and yell and yell and motherfucking yell.
How dare Necro take Sola to the goddamn dungeon.
“Fuck him!” I snarl.
Knowing I’ll start shit, Coffin has posted himself in front of my bedroom door, so I don’t do anything stupid, like get myself killed.
At the bathroom door, Mama is seated on a chair, crocheting and taking up the whole damn frame, so I couldn’t get past him even if I tried, unless bloodshed entered the equation.
“How could you let him do this?” I accuse them both.
“He’s doing what he thinks is necessary,” Mama explains far too calmly for my liking.
Coffin nods in agreement.
Fuck ‘em.
