Page 27 of Dead Love
He stared at me, then pulled a pocket-knife out of his pants and broke each of the ties. A glimmer shined in his eye. It was just another game to him. Even letting me have my wrists and ankles.
I rubbed my wrists. “Why am I here?”
“What does it look like?”
I glanced around, tension throbbing all over. “I haven’t done anything to you.”
“That’s right,” he said. A grin tugged at his lips. “You’ve never done anything wrong in your entire life.” He motioned around us. “Your mother and father can’t help you here. You’ll actually have to work for it. Make decisions on your own. Fight for your life.” My skin flushed with heat. What was he talking about? “I saved you from your cage.”
I snapped my teeth. “And put me into another.”
He scowled at me, the frustration and rage evident on his face, his cheeks red, a vein in his neck throbbing under that white scar.
“It doesn’t have all the pretty flowers you’re used to, but perhaps the bricks will be more comforting, seeing as you don’t have to pretend that you’re living a free life.”
I narrowed my eyes. My heart beat hummed through me, a steady ringing throbbed in my ears. My fingernails dug into my palms. How could he say something like that?
“What is wrong with you?” I seethed.
“There it is!” Vincent clapped his hands together, and I slammed my fists down at my sides, holding myself back. I had never wanted to hit someone before, but I wanted to punch him in the eye. “Get angry. Feel it all. Don’t let it go.” He leaned in closer, bending down to me. “What does it feel like, flower?”
He moved my knees apart, like he had done in my bedroom, his fingertips skimming the inside of my thighs—but this time, I didn’t lose myself in the sensations. I couldn’t let him touch me like that. Not when he had burned my house. Not when he pretended he had saved my life.
But I knew I had to tread lightly. I had never met a person—man or woman—like him, and I knew he was volatile. One wrong move and I could give myself a death sentence.
I lifted my chin higher. Why were my cheeks so hot?
“What’s the matter?” Vincent grinned. “You can’t handle the way it makes you feel, can you, flower?” He gripped my thighs so tight that his fingernails dug into my skin and I cringed. “Fight me.” His eyes locked with mine, gold embers burning deep inside of those black voids. “Show me your rage.”
It was like he knew exactly what I wanted to do. A strange part of me thought hewantedme to hit him. It was a mind game, a way to use my emotions against me. I had to stay strong.
He stroked the back of my head, playing with my hair, his fingers dragging through the tangled locks, chills going down my spine. He grabbed the back of my head, dragging his lips against my ear.
“You’re too weak for this, aren’t you?” he whispered.
I grit my teeth and rammed my fist into his face so hard that it cracked through the room. He held his face, the inner part of his eye socket red, a grin spreading wide across his face.
“There it is,” he said again, satisfaction ringing in his tone. “I knew you had it in you.”
“You’re disgusting,” I hissed.
He lunged at me, grabbing my throat so tight that the blood rushed to my face, lifting me off of the ground. Then he put his leg between my thighs.
“So disgusting you can’t help but get wet for me,” he said.
He dropped me to the ground and I fell to my hands and feet, then scrambled away as far as I could, pressing myself against the couch.
“I thought you were different,” I panted. My mother’s warnings blared through my head. I touched my neck; it was warm where his hands had been. “But my mother was right. All men are the same. You’re nothing like what I thought.”
“Funny you should say that.” He ran a hand under his chin. “I’m more of myself than I have been in a long time.”
He studied me, waiting for my next move. Then his phone buzzed, and he glanced at it, then exited up the stairs, disappearing behind the click of a closing door. Once he was gone, I let out a breath, my arms and legs shaking, trying to force myself to stay calm. But the emotions trickled in so high it felt like I couldn’t get my head above water. I punched my fists into the couch cushions and screamed.
That helped. I took a deep breath and looked around. Now, I needed to get myself under control. I had to think with a clear mind.
A fake fireplace flickered to the side, and two modern chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each one decorated with crystal icicles that resembled dripping tears. A faint glow came from within each fixture. Wooden crates and a few leather couches littered the room. This must have been a place where he could store his toys.
The thought made me shudder. I was sick to death of being my mother’s doll. I wasn’t going to let him use me like that too.
