Page 83 of Stealing His Cupcake
I scoff. “If only.” No way I’d be that lucky.
Popping a few pills on my way back to the motel room, I dry swallow them, grimacing at the bitter taste. I should have bought some water to wash them down, but whatever. Vodka will work just as well. My liver can take a hike.
Despite my sorry, inebriated state, my instincts flare up as I return to the room. There’s a duffel bag on the floor I want to say isn’t mine, except it is, though I didn’t bring it here. Something’s hanging out from the inside. A rope?
Before I can make sense of it, something sharp pinches my shoulder and damn if I’m not having déjà vu, especially as my already not particularly sharp vision blurs further. “What…?” I slur like an idiot, pissed at Slava. Couldn’t she just come talk to me like a normal person? Did she have to drug me again?
Except when I turn around, more like stagger to the side, I’m not met with Slava’s pale skin and blond hair. Deep umber greets me instead and, dragging my eyes up a painfully familiar figure, I end up staring into the most beautiful brown eyes in existence.
It’s Amy.
Except, it’s also not Amy. Not the one I know, at least. This Amy has something sharp in her eyes, something I’m sure will shred me to pieces once she unleashes it.
“Hello, husband,” she greets me, sarcasm heavily lacing her words. “Miss me?”
“Terribly,” I try to say, but my tongue doesn’t cooperate so the word comes out like an undecipherable gurgle.
Smirking, Amy pushes against my chest, making me stagger backward. “Get on the bed for me, will you? You’re too heavy to haul around.”
I don’t fight her as she guides me to the bed, gratefully collapsing on it when it feels like my legs are about to give out. As I drift into unconsciousness, I keep wondering whether she’s real. She can’t really be here, can she? Is it possible that I’ve drunk myself into that stage where you start hallucinating? Or perhaps that asshole at the gas station sold me the wrong kind of pills. I should have killed him. Then again, if I get to see Amy one more time before I die, even if she’s just a hallucination, I should probably be thanking the man.
I must have articulated some of my hazy thoughts because Amy snorts. “I’m not a hallucination, Wyatt.” Her voice feels like coming from a great distance as she adds, “Though you might wish I were before I’m done with you.” Then the darkness claims me fully.
Slowlywakingup,Irealize two things. First, I’m naked. Second, I’m lying spread-eagle on the bed, my wrists and ankles bound to the bed corners. It would be a good start of a fun night, except I don’t remember agreeing to any of it. What do I remember, though? Getting drugged? Hallucinating Amy?
Fuck. What kind of trouble have I gotten myself into this time?
“You’re awake. Good.” The voice sounds like Amy but it can’t be real. She can’t be here. “I was getting worried I messed up the dosage.” Definitely Amy’s voice. Turning my head confirms that either I’m still hallucinating or she’s really here. While my head is still taking time to wrap itself around the current situation, my heart is already attempting to leap from my chest and embrace her.
“How?” My voice cracks, my throat dry as a desert, clicking as I swallow.
“It’s not your turn to ask questions, Wyatt,” Amy replies, her voice sharp. However, she helps me lift my head and holds a bottle of water to my mouth. Once I’ve gulped down half of it, she steps away again, scowling at me with her arms crossed over her chest.
The silence stretches uncomfortably. Tugging on the ropes, I confirm they’re well knotted. There will be no moving for me unless Amy releases me. While hot, the thought is also a little worrisome thanks to the anger flaring in her eyes. Not just any anger. Murderous fury that sends chills up my bare arms and legs, reminding me just how vulnerable I am right now. This is Amy, though, my sweet, innocent cupcake. She’d never hurt me.
“Amy…” I whisper her name like a prayer, still not entirely convinced she’s really here.
Her scowl deepens. “Oh, so you remember my name.”
“Why wouldn’t—”
“SHUT UP!” she yells. Straddling me, which has my cock waking up even as the wound on my belly twinges with pain, Amy leans to snarl in my face, her lips rolling back to reveal her teeth. “You had a chance to talk. You had so many fucking chances to talk, Wyatt. You haven’t taken a single one of them, so now you will keep your fucking mouth shut unless I ask you a question. Understand?!”
Taken aback, I blink. Is this really my Amy? “I’m sorr—” The slap stings more than I’d expected. Sure, it’s not on par with getting punched, but it still shuts me up.
“You’re sorry? You’re SORRY?!” She slaps me again. On instinct, I yank on the ropes but they hold. I won’t be able to fight her off even if shedecides to kill me. Which, as I’m only now realizing, she might just do. “Do you have any idea how much you hurt me, you lying piece of shit?!”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I say since she did actually ask me a question this time. “I was doing it for your own good. You deserve better, Amy.”
“Maybe.” Unscrewing a small bottle, she pours the contents on my chest. My eyes sting as the pungent stench of rubbing alcohol envelops us. Tossing the bottle away, Amy frowns at me. “I certainly don’t deserve to be lied to.”
Her furious mask slips, revealing the anguish underneath. Her pain calls to mine. “I never lied to you. Fuck, Amy, I lo—”
“Don’t you dare finish that word. If you fucking loved me, you never would have left me. And you lied to me since the day we met.”
My eyes widen as she pulls out a knife. The one I gave her, the one we’ve had so much fun with. Well, I doubt we’ll be having fun with it now. Or I won’t, at least.
“You told me I was yours. Forever. That you will never let me go. You forced me to marry you. You made me fall in love with you. Then you tossed me away like a filthy rag.”
