Page 30 of The Last Feast
Something snaps again, and she reverts to the violent woman as she scores her nails down my back. Gripping my hair with her other hand, she tries to bend my head back, but she could gouge out my eyes, and I’d still be unmovable with her face in view.
“I. Am. Not. Your. Whore,” she grits, twisting the strands between her delicate fingers.
“I know,” I agree easily with a smile. “I’m yours.”
Just as quickly as her fight for control was called forward, it abates as she pulls me down to seal her lips over mine, moaning to bring more parts of me to life that will forever bear her name. I don’t stop her from reversing our positions or when she takes her lips away to fuck me harder. I thrust up, trying to get deeper she turns rigid and screams the fake name that feels like mine when she says it.
Hana falls forward, nearly smacking me in the face in her eagerness to reach my lips. I wrap my arm around her, kneading her back with the heels of my palms. Following the curve of her spine, I thread my fingers through her hair as she whimpers, twitching around my dick.
“Shhh, daddy’s here, clever girl,” I coo. “Don’t move. Let me take care of you.”
I lay her cheek on my shoulder and press my lips to her forehead as I slip my thumb into her mouth. With my other hand in her hair, I softly massage her scalp as I slowly fuck up into her, working myself to climax while soothing her to join me.
Tomorrow comes.
And I wake up alone.
I reach out on the bed, searching for the woman beside me but only meeting the cold sheets. It doesn’t matter how much I twist or turn—there’s not even a spot of warmth left behind for me. She’s fucking disappeared.
I look around the room for any sign I haven’t imagined everything.
The dresser is open, and the clothes I left here for when I visit have been moved. She’s taken my clothes, kept something of me so I’m always close to her.
But there’s no note.
Nothing but the four-letter name of a woman who made me come alive then left me cold in the morning.
Jumping up out of bed, I grab a pair of sweats and nearly trip in my urgency to get dressed as I look out of the window to see if there are footprints in the snow. I’ll follow them, find her, and bring her back to me so we can exist in a house where time stands still while we do the same.
The blanket of white is undisturbed, settling some of my fear. I still run through the house, calling her name.
“Hana?”
The hallway is empty, and the kitchen hasn’t been touched.
“Baby? Where are you?”
There’s no sign of her, almost like she didn’t exist. I pull the front door open, getting hit in the face by the icy air as I step onto the porch.
“Hana!”
Where the fuck did she go?
18
WATCH
As Auguste continues shouting her name, Hana sits on the roof, watching him. She’s decided this will be a good place to die. She’ll be comforted by the memories of him holding her all night, so she watches him search for her, knowing the next time he’ll see her, she’ll be another ghost.
With each panicked shout, her heart aches.
She doesn’t want to die now that a glimmer of hope is in sight. Yet, the fear of staying alive for something not guaranteed freezes her in place, both mentally and physically.
She understands death, even looked forward to the day she would be released from her aunt and uncle’s home to achieve it. One man, one night, has made her doubt everything she allowed to comfort her.
Her plans weren’t hidden from her family. Her aunt and uncle knew she would kill herself when they threw her out of their home; it’s why they weren’t afraid of their secrets being known. But if she lives…? If she lives, then she’s a risk to them, and she knows firsthand that they won’t allow her to exist with the knowledge of their abuse.
So, she continues watching Auguste as he goes back inside, still screaming her name. When he doesn’t find her, he leaves on foot to search for her.
