Page 22 of Hush Little Martyr, Don't You Scream
“Don’t answer just yet,” Alistair told me, turning to look at my mother. “If the choice was up to you, who would you save? Your oldest daughter, or your youngest?”
“That’s hardly relevant, isn’t it?” she snapped. Despite her aggression, there was a hint of fear behind every word she uttered.
Alistair shrugged in response. “I haven’t entirely made my mind up yet. So no.”
Lies.
He knew exactly what he was going to do. This was all a sick game to him. It was written all over his stupidly hot face.
Mom glanced between the two of us before lowering her gaze to the floor. I already knew who she’d choose though. It was right on brand for her. If the choice was hers, I’d want her to make the same choice—just not for the reasons she’d choose it.
“I would choose to save Isabella,” she whispered, a lone tear trickling down her cheek.
“Interesting,” Alistair murmured, taking a step toward me, though his eyes never left my weeping mother. “Why is that?”
She blinked hard, attempting to expel the few tears clinging to her lashes. “B-because,” she stammered, finally meeting my gaze. “Somewhere along the way, I failed you. Raising Isabella would be the second chance I’ve been so desperate for.”
That wasn’t the sweet declaration she thought it was. In her eyes, she failed me because she couldn’t reshape me in her image. She wanted a carbon copy—someone who would do her bidding and bring her pride. We were nothing more than objects to her.
“And what do you think of that, Ember?” Alistair asked softly, skating his fingers over the back of my neck. A shiver tumbled through me from the contact, but I swallowed it down.
“Ithink… that this isn’t a fucking therapy session.” I scowled, glancing over my shoulder to glare at him.
It was one thing to physically torture us, but another thing entirely to play twisted mind games. If he wanted to kill us, he might as well just get it over with. I already knew my mom was aselfish cunt. She did whatever she wanted and didn’t give a fuck who she hurt in the process.
Alistair smirked back at me in that annoying way he seemed to favor so damn much. How could someone so … ethereal and sexy be so black-hearted.
His hand closed around the back of my neck, his fingers digging into the skin firmly. My breath caught in my throat as my pulse skipped, but I was rooted to the spot. If he was bothering me, he’d leave them alone. For now, at least.
Alistair hummed softly, his warm breath feathering over the shell of my ear. Unable to help myself, my body reacted, seeking out more of his warmth. My back eased against his chest and my eyes fluttered. This mysterious, violent man shouldn’t have brought me comfort in any way. But there was something about him that just felt so right.
“Little Martyr,” he whispered, his voice slightly strained now. “Is that arousal I sense?”
My eyes snapped open, the fog in my mind starting to dissipate. Embarrassment clouded my thoughts at having been called out for it so bluntly. It wasn’t like I could control my own body’s urges. Still, it wasn’t the time to be obsessing over some murderous demon who intended to obliterate my entire family.
Fuck.
Was there ever a time for that?
My gaze slid over to where my mom stood. She seemed to be in some sort episode—shock—maybe.
I swiped my tongue along my chapped lower lip before sucking in a deep breath. “I was fantasizing about how hot it would be watching you fail.”
His lips curled into a devilish smirk, his eyes sparkling with an unknown challenge. “Your lies aren’t nearly as sweet,” he purred. “How about we skip the dramatics, get rid of the trash, and let me fuck you one final time?”
My breath hitched, but his words had my mind spiraling into darkness. A good daughter would never even think of doing the things I wanted to. A good daughter wouldn’t be intrigued or aroused by a murderous monster. He just killed my father and intended to do the same to my mom, but I could barely find it in me to care.
I tilted my head to the side, meeting his piercing gaze. His eyes were so light and so blue, it was easy to get lost in them.
“Since when do you ask for permission?” I challenged.
His smirk widened into a maniacal grin. But before I could even process what that might mean, shadows filled the entire room. Everything turned dark, and all I could feel was his breath kissing my ear.
Screams erupted from the other side of the room, causing my heart to lurch into the back of my throat.
“W-what are you doing?” I stammered breathlessly.
A hand settled over my hip, making me jump from the suddenness of it. “Tearing her apart from the inside out,” he said softly. “I’m ripping out her intestines as we speak.”
