Page 18 of The Cruelest Chaos
My eyes fly open and I hit him again. But he must’ve been ready for it because just as my hand connects with his jaw, he threads his fingers through mine, lessening the blow.
His forehead connects with my own, our fingers entwined against his skin. My nipples harden as his chest brushes against me.
“Say it,” he commands me, his breath against my skin. He smells impossibly good, not like he just woke up at all. I taste blood in my mouth still and I’m positive my breath doesn’t have the same god-like qualities. “Say you want me to hurt you.”
Is that what I want?
In the dark, I smile, but don’t say a word. He’s weakening my resolve by saying all the wrong things. Almost like he knows me.
His fingers tighten against mine. Against his face.
I remember the cuts on his back.
I move my free hand around him, my fingers dipping over the wounds.
He sucks in a breath, his body tense against mine. “Ella,” he says warningly.
I trace my fingertips up and down his spine. It feels rough, entwined with places of untouched skin. A car accident? Did he skid on his back? Maybe an ATV?
Did he do it to himself?
“Ella,” he whispers, our foreheads still together. “I know what you’re thinking.”
No you don’t.
“But that’s too far, okay?”
I don’t have many hard limits, kid.
Besides, last night I did it. It got me what I wanted. My split lip is testament to that. If he wants to keep me here, he’s going to do it my way.
I keep tracing the wounds, loving the way his breaths are uneven, his body still tense. He thinks he has the power.
But if I push him to the edge...I’m in control.
“Ella.” His voice is angrier now. He presses further into me, and I widen my stance, feeling his leg between mine. “Don’t do that.”
But what if I do?
I angle my index finger, so my nail is against a soft, untouched part of his skin.
He tenses in anticipation.
“Did you know,” he says quietly, keeping his tone even, “last night I killed a woman?”
I’ve never done that with a girl before that I didn’t want to kill.
It’s my turn to suck in a breath, my index finger stilling against his skin.
His fingers still hold mine against his jaw and I feel it move as he speaks. “I probably still have her blood on my body.”
Lucky girl.
“I beat her to death with a hammer, Ella.”
A shiver slides down my spine, but I don’t move away. It isn’t true. He wouldn’t tell me if it was. Sure, this place clearly costs a lot of money, and there are guards and a gate and Natalie’s boyfriend seems loaded, but...who confesses a murder to someone they just met?
Who lets someone they just met hit them?
