Page 41 of Lunatic
In mere seconds, he is in front of me, with his hand around my throat, as he slams me up against the closed door. His eyes are the shade of coal as they stare into mine, a dark strand of his hair hangs just above his left eye, and his breathing is hard with obvious anger. Call me crazy, but it’s hot.
“She is not my fuck buddy, little Lunatic. I have never been inside her. Never kissed her. Lucky and I are friends. We have never crossed that line. I’m guessing you have accepted that I will never hit you. I promise you, Bianca. Keep pushing me, and I will spank the ever loving shit out of your ass. I don’t appreciate your fucking attitude, and I will correct it. Understood?”
I nod, as I stare at him with a shocked expression, hitting his hand with my chin.
“Good. Get into the fucking bathroom, and get undressed. Now.”
Removing his hand from my throat, he points in the direction of the restroom, and I immediately head in that direction. I’ve never been spanked like an errant child, but I don’t think it’d be my cup of tea. I know some people get off on it. I’m pretty sure any physical punishment would take my mind back to Sullivan. Someplace I do not want to go.
I stop briefly in the hallway, and run my hand over the wall. The paint is cream colored, with gold splashes thrown on it, bringing out the gold in the wall mounted light fixtures. There’s no artwork. The wall itself is gorgeous, and adding to it would actually diminish the beauty.
“Bianca,” he growls from behind me, and I dart with a squeal into the bathroom, and get undressed. Raven is confusing. Sometimes he seems okay, sweet even. Other times the violent predator emerges, and I’m reminded of every reason I should be afraid of him. He’s a killer. Sullivan was not. My common sensesays I should be far more terrified of Raven, than I was of my husband. Yet, Raven has never hit me. He has done plenty of terrible things, but he’s never been violent towards me.
In the beginning, when Sullivan started beating me, he’d apologize after and swear to never do it again. The eighth time was the worst, and he beat me black and blue with a baseball bat. It took me six weeks to heal, not including the broken leg and arm. That was the day he stopped apologizing. It was as if he embraced the monster inside him, and stopped fighting it. What if Raven does the same thing? Struggles against it for a while, until he can’t anymore? That’s the problem with monsters. They can only contain it for so long.
Raven comes up behind me, turns the water on in the bathtub, and then adds some kind of oil to it. He runs his hand from between my shoulder blades down to my ass with a groan.
“Fuck, pretty girl.”
He pulls away from me, and I flinch, expecting to be hit, but nothing comes. Instead, I hear him tearing his clothing off.
“Our clothes have been delivered, but you won’t need them tonight.”
I respond with only, “Okay.” My voice comes out shaky, betraying my need to sound strong. He turns the water off and takes my hand.
“You can look at me, Bianca.”
I don’t. I can’t.
We step into the bathwater and sit down. Immediately he wraps his arms around my front, and pulls me against him.
“Lie back,” he says.
Leaning against him, I tremble slightly.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Bianca. Not like you think, anyway. Why do you think I will? I can see how fucking afraid you are.”
I close my eyes, and share my past that I’m not sure I should.
“He beat me. Every day. For a while he tried to control it, but eventually the violence won. How can you possibly know the same won’t happen with you? Why should I not be petrified of a man who skins people alive?”
Moving the hair off my neck, he kisses the side of my face with three sweet kisses, further confusing me.
“If he were alive, I’d kill him, baby. Since he’s not, the best I can do is explain it to you. He tried to fight it. The urge to hurt you in such a violent way. I’m not trying to control the desire to kill you. Yes, I’m a fucking killer, Bianca. I won’t pretend I’m not. I’m not a good man, but I am a real one. An honest one. I have never even had the thought of killing you. The moment I saw you on the news, I was fascinated with you. With your fear. I do like it, but I always knew it would be Alexsander that took your final breath, not me.”
He strokes his fingers between my breasts, down my abdomen, before lightly touching my thighs.
“Why do you do it? Make me understand.”
Raven chuckles, but there’s no humor behind it. Instead, it sounds more like I brought up some rather painful memories, which wasn’t my intention.
“I had a terrible upbringing. My father and uncle were disgusting men. My uncle was the one that hurt me the most, but my father watched it happen, and did nothing to put an end to it. I endured violence, torture, and rape, at a young age. It molded me into what I am today. I take full responsibility for my actions, but I know it had an effect.”
Turning over in his arms, I lay against his chest, and stroke my fingers down his muscular bicep.
“I’m sorry.”
He’s quick to respond, almost like my empathy is painful.
