Page 2 of Claimed By the Psychos
The suite is obscene in its luxury. Cream and gold everything, windows that stretch from floor to ceiling, and there, scattered across the king-sized bed like drops of blood, rose petals.
"Roses!" I squeal, launching myself onto the bed. The petals crush beneath me, releasing their perfume into the air.
The senator is on me in seconds, his hands finding my hips as his tie comes loose. "You like pretty things, don't you, sweetheart?"
His breath is too hot, his hands too heavy. For a moment, I'm not here. I'm back in that room with the water-stained ceiling and Evan's fingers around my throat, telling me what a pretty little thing I am, how lucky I am that he chose me as his pet, how?—
"Look, Felix! Bubbles!" I slip out of the senator's grasp, dancing toward the champagne bucket by the window. The bottle is slick with condensation, cold and solid against my palms.
Felix says nothing, but his eyes track my movement. Always watching. Always ready.
"Bring that over here, darlin'." The senator has already made himself comfortable on the edge of the bed, legs spread wide like he owns the world. Maybe he thinks he does.
I sway back to him, letting my hips roll with each step. "Do you like champagne, James?"
"I like watching pretty girls drink champagne."
I run my tongue along the bottle's neck, tasting expensive glass and possibility. His eyes go dark, pupils blown wide with greed.
Felix clears his throat. "The payment, sir."
"For fuck's sake." The senator pulls out a wad of cash thick enough to choke on, shoving it at Felix. "There. Happy? Now getlost." His hands are already on me again, pulling me down onto the bed. "I intend to get what I paid for."
The champagne bottle rolls beside me as the senator starts working at his belt. His weight presses down, and suddenly I'm drowning in memories—Evan's hands, Evan's weight, Evan's voice telling me to be grateful he pulled me off the streets and?—
The sound of wire singing through air cuts through the past.
Felix moves like poetry written in violence, the garrote wire catching the light for just a moment before it finds the senator's throat. The man's eyes go wide, hands scrabbling at the thin line cutting off his air.
Blood wells up where the wire bites deep. I reach out, catch a drop on my finger, bring it to my lips.
"I like blood even more than champagne," I tell him, and his eyes get even wider.
Felix is strong—stronger than he has any right to be—but the senator is fighting for his life now. Adrenaline makes warriors of even soft men. He manages to grab the champagne bottle, smashing it against Felix's head in a spray of glass and foam.
They grapple, a tangle of expensive suits and violence. Felix slams the senator's head against the glass table with a crack that sounds like breaking wishes. The man goes limp for a moment, just a moment, but it's enough.
A nervous giggle tears from my throat as I watch the blood pool onto the white carpet. Blood is so hard to clean off carpet. Even harder than getting rid of a body.
When the senator's eyes flutter open, he comes up swinging. His fist catches Felix in the ribs while he's still trying to get to his feet, and I hear my anchor grunt in pain.
No.
Nobody hurts Felix.
I leap onto the senator's back like a wildcat, the broken champagne bottle still in my hand. The jagged edge finds histhroat like it was always meant to be there, opening him up in a red smile that stretches from ear to ear as I keep his short hair clutched in my other hand.
He makes a sound like a drain gurgling. His hands come up to his throat, trying to hold himself together, but blood is already painting even more of the cream carpet crimson.
Yep, the carpet definitely has to go.
He falls to his knees, then forward, and the light goes out of his eyes like someone flipped a switch.
"Are you alright?" I ask Felix, who's straightening his tie like we didn't just paint the room in someone's blood.
"Fine. You?"
"I'm fine," I promise.
