Page 40 of Cain
I swiftly turn my back and scramble away again. I don’t know where I’m heading to. I don’t know what I should do. I’m helpless. Desperate. Frustrated.
Then, I enter a room with a large pool table at its center and a bar with stools lined up in front of it.
Behind the bar …
Footsteps approach. Screw it! There’s not enough time.
Behind the pool table.
I tiptoe as quietly as I can and curl myself behind the table.
“Ring around the Rosie …” he sings hauntingly, making my skin crawl.
Jsem v prdeli …I am fucked …
The footsteps come closer, and I try to move farther around the table while staying crouched.
“Hello, little rose,” he growls right behind me, startling me.
He grabs me, hoists me up, and covers my mouth with his hand. He pushes me against the pool table. I shake and tear up. He swings me around and firmly binds my hands, securing them with his belt in one sharp motion. His movements are both soft and commanding. He places me down on the table, climbs on top of me,and raises my bound hands over my head. He drives the knife through the belt and into the table, pinning me in place.
“Let me go!” I fight myself free.
“Shh,” he whispers, covering my mouth with his hand as he leans closer to me. “I’m not going to harm you, Katerina.”
“You already did!” I mumble, my voice muffled from his hand.
“Calm down.”
I try to do as he says. My breathing, shaken and fast, hammers his palm as my eyes fix on his. His hair falls loosely over his face, grazing my nose as he leans closer, trying to sync his breathing with mine.
Slowly, he takes his hand off my mouth.
“Why are you doing this?” I sob.
“Why did you attack me with the knife?”
“Because you’re a killer! You killed your brother!” I yell as a tear escapes my eye. “Why are you doing this to me?”
His fingers slowly trace my wounded thigh, wiping the blood that runs over it. “I am so sorry for this, little rose. You’re scared, I know. But coming close to death teaches you not to fear it.” He strokes my hair back. “It will make you understand.”
“Understand what?”
“The darkness.” He brushes his soft lips on my neck. “This fucked-up darkness that I know you want. I know you need this.” He slowly unbuttons my shirt, exposing my breasts as he keeps sucking the skin of my neck.
“Let me go,” I stutter. My lips keep talking, but my body tells another story.
I know I should be afraid. I know he’s a twisted psychopath. My mind knows I must stay away, but my body betrays me again. His darkness surrounds me, yet it doesn’t feel scary. Not the way he talks to me right now.
His tongue on my neck makes me weak. His hands on my thighs, pulling me closer to him, make me greedy. Weak for more. Eager for him.
He spreads my legs and traces his lips on my belly, going lower. My waist arches involuntarily towards him. He was right. I want this. I need this. As much as I am afraid of him, this is how much I also want him. What the hell is this feeling? Why does it feel so wrong yet so right?
His lips are close to the cut. I can feel his breath hammering against it, chilling the blood as it drips.
“This will always remind you,” he whispers as his fingers wipe the blood again. “You can fight it and run away, but in the end, I’ll always be there to catch you.”
His tongue traces the length of my wound. I hiss in pain as my body jerks in surprise, but his hands grip my hips and pin me back on the table. He doesn’t stop there. He drags his tongue higher between my thighs, reaching my underwear.I feel numb, incapable of refusing or resisting.
