Page 90 of Her Wicked Knights
"Yes." I don't say anything more. I don't trust myself to speak without pissing him off, and there's no way I'm letting him shut me back in the trunk again.
"Oh, sweetheart," he chuckles, pulling me close, so that my face is cradled against his chest as he reaches behind me and fiddles with the thing that's binding my wrists. When I hear the faint clink of metal and he pulls back, I realize it's a belt.
Did he plan this whole thing, or did he just happen to be driving by my house and decide to let himself in for some fun?
"Seems like an abuse of the key I gave you for emergencies..." I say, watching his face carefully as I shake out my wrists.
"It was an emergency." He raises his hands, like he is trying to show me he's innocent in all this. "You weren't answering my messages. I was worried about you, so I let myself in. Imaginemy surprise to find you dead to the world." He shakes his head. "I thought you flushed all the prescriptions?"
I told him I did. And to be fair, I was going to. Everyone has convinced me that I'm going crazy, and I've started to believe it myself. If I am, maybe having antipsychotics on hand wouldn't be the worst idea? Besides, the sleeping pills aren't exactly recreational. I only took it because I don't think I've had a full, decent night's sleep in the last four months.
"I was going to." I tell him honestly. "But then I thought maybe I needed them. Am I crazy, Logan?"
He's got the faintest smirk on his full lips as he traces mine with his thumb. I'm still sitting in the trunk, which is absurd. He seems to realize as much, because he moves to my ankles, untying the tie he used to bind my ankles together. When he does, he pulls me against him, fitting an arm beneath my knees so that he can heft me out of the trunk and set me flat on my feet.
"Maybe you are, Marley. But I'll tell you the same thing I told you when you first walked into my office." When I simply stare at him, he smirks. "You may be crazy. You may be broken. But I can fix you."
I can fix you.
“So fucking romantic.” I scoff.
It's not a promise to love me in spite of my brokenness, or even because of it. It's not a promise to love me at all. We've been together for over a year, but that doesn't mean that we love one another. It just means that he's as fucked up as me, that our brokenness calls to each other. Together, we can pretend to be whole.
I turn to the building we're standing in front of... a Victorian looking home with a wraparound porch and turrets on the roof. It looks like a bed and breakfast you'd take someone to if you planned to murder them.
"Where are we?"
Logan tips his head toward the house with a proud grin. "Welcome to my house, Marley."
His house?
In all the time we've been together, he's never taken me to his house. I didn't even know where he lived, but I can't imagine we're all that far from the city... though a quick glance around assures me that there are no other houses nearby.
"What are we doing here?"
"I thought we could spend the weekend together." He laughs. "But it was meant to be fun and kinky, not to feel so real that you cried." He laughs, though, so I can't imagine he feels that guilty about it.
"Or called the cops?" I roll my eyes. "I better call back and tell them it was a misunderstanding."
Logan smirks as I reach for my phone.
"I'm going inside. Come find me when you're done?"
I wave him off and watch him climb the stairs to his front door, where he messes around with the keypad for a minute before letting himself in.
Detective Morgan answers just as the screen door shuts, and I grapple for the words to explain that my kinky not-boyfriend decided to kidnap me for a weekend of sexual degeneracy.
As soon as I get done with this call, I'm going to kill him.
41
Rev
Wehaven'tbeenableto leave Serenity Hollow since Whit did. I'm not sure what sort of magic he performed to trap us in town, but it's almost like there's an invisible boundary at the city limits, and every time one of us tries to cross, it turns into a forcefield, completely invisible and completely impenetrable. So being able to project ourselves to see her, to spy on her and try to figure out where she is, has been monumental.
I'll admit, some of the things we've done have been a little fucked up. She thinks she's going crazy, and so does Whit. That's actually kind of perfect, because when we kill him, he'll never see it coming. When we kill him, he'll not even realize that we outplayed him until it's too late. When we kill him, we will bring her back to us, and finally, after years of waiting, she'll be ours. At this point, I couldn't much care less whether she wants to or not. She's been gone for almost three years. If we brought her back to Serenity Hollow and threw her in the basement and used whatever spell Whit used to seal us in town to keep her our prisoner, who would really even notice? I mean, aside from Hadley, it's not even like we would have to do much legwork.
Every time I start to feel bad, though, for how far we're taking it as we take turns projecting into her apartment, her car, her bedroom, I remember how fucked up Tripp was after she left. I think of how she let me believe that there was something beautiful waiting around the corner that night she fell asleep in my arms in the back of Tripp's car. I remember the bone-aching emptiness, the loneliness when Tripp shut me out because he didn't know how to deal with his own grief, let alone mine or Colton's. Every time I see her tears dripping down her cheeks or hear the fear in her voice as she calls out, asking who's there, I feel the slightest remorse. And every time I think of Whit's hands on her, I don't feel bad anymore.
