Page 42 of Grave Love
I touch my neck. Blaze was teasing me, wasn’t he? Touching my neck to tease me with the memories of last night, to make me want more.
My fingers find his bruises, the pain snaking through me. As I wait for the body to finish burning, I don’t think about my mother hanging in the void. Instead, I wonder how much pressure it would take for Blaze to break my neck.
I fantasize about him asphyxiating me as he submits to his own desire to come for me.
Chapter15
Blaze
The doorbell rings,a single chime erupting through the house. Without even seeing the unwanted visitor, I know who it is. I curse, then wrap a towel around my waist. The inconvenient fucker.
Brody stands on the porch with his hands in his pockets, checking his sides as if someone’s going to report him to the police for simply talking to me. His dirty blond hair is cut short, his eyes as light blue as our mother’s, like mine. I’m tall and built; he’s average, both in height and weight. He’s tan, while I’m pale as snow. Even his blond hair is common; mine is nearly white.
The fucker always comes back to me like a mindless sheep.
“You said it’d be months,” I say.
“Figured I’d make my favorite client happy,” he says.
Not brother.Client.
I motion for him to follow me, then return to the bathroom. Brody slants to the side, taking a peek into my bedroom.
“What’s with the leash? You get a pet recently?” he asks.
I angle toward the metal leash on the nightstand. For a moment, I picture Ren wearing it. Her bruised body. Her tear-stained face as she crawls to me. So obedient. Like a fucking dog. Lower than me. A chain around her neck. And with some more conditioning, all it will take is one little tug of the choke chain, and the bitch will come for me.
No, Ren isn’t a pet. A pet has a will of its own.
She’s my object.
“A side project,” I say. I raise an eyebrow. “And?”
Give me the fucking drugs.
Brody sighs, then pulls out two plastic pouches. The first contains a case with several individually wrapped items—thin, plastic wands with caps on the end. The other pouch has the typical orange prescription bottle with a few pills.
“These are like lollipops. Tell her to put them in her cheek,” he says, angling his head toward the case with the wands. “There are sixteen hundred micrograms in each, so you shouldn’t need many. And these pills?” He nods deeply. “Got them from Canada. She probably only needs one, but you can give her more if you want to be safe.”
Safe.Because overdosing on pharmaceuticals isbetterthan death by primal violence.
I turn the pouch with the orange container in my hand, reading the label:Brody Barwick.He must’ve gotten some friend in the field to prescribe them. It’s funny hownoblehe thinks he is—doing the right thing, getting “medicine” for the people who can’t afford it. In reality, he’s a glorified drug dealer. People die from his medications, just like they do from street drugs.
“What’s her name?” he asks, cutting into my thoughts.
Instinctively, I glance back at the chains.Her name.It’s an odd question, especially coming from him. A detail he doesn’t need. Still, my brain rattles off answers: A dead girl. A rat. My object. My toy. My little corpse.
I could say any of these answers to Brody, and it wouldn’t make a difference because it wouldn’t give him what he needs.
Ren Kono.That’s her name.
Aggravation settles on my shoulders, then drips down to my chest. Does he think he can protect her? That he can save her from me? I crack my neck both ways, leveling myself, forcing the emotions down. Brody isn’t better than me, nor is he better than Ren. He’s the same as us.
And he doesn’t deserve her name.
“Jealous?” I force myself to chuckle, to act as if it doesn’t bother me. But the anger seeps into my veins like poison. I ball my fists and stare at him coldly. “Why? Because she’s not one of your little patients? Trust me; you’d never be able to help her. Not like I can.”
“You need to make sure you know what you’re doing,” he says, lowering his voice. “Assisted suicide isn’t the same thing as murder.” I pretend to gag, and he shoots me a glare, then angles his head in the direction of the street. “They have a medical spa on Richard Jackson. Why not send her there?”
