Page 17 of Wings of a Butterfly

“I will tell you everything, but I need you to fucking listen to me,” I say, spit spraying from my lips. She aggravates the fuck out of me sometimes, but at least she’s not trying to run away. I guess I can give her something in return.

I take her to the set of stairs and lead her down while still holding on to her arm. Pulling her to the kitchen, I force her into a chair. “Sit.”

Pulling out the whiskey bottle, I walk over the broken glass from the cup I broke earlier. Fuck it, I’ll deal with it later. I grab a second cup and pour us both a drink. I’m pretty sure she’ll need it, but maybe she’ll learn something from what I’m about to tell her.

I set the glass in front of her. “Drink up, you’re going to need it.”

She grabs it, takes a sip, and cringes at the burn.

I sit in the chair catty-cornered to her so that I’m facing her and give her knee a reassuring squeeze. “What I’m about to tell you may be hard to comprehend, but I need you to promise me you won’t run.”

“Okay.” She looks down at the glass between her hands. She looks like dread has already set in, and I can’t have that. I take my knuckle under her chin and lift her bright green eyes up to mine.

“I need you to bear with me, okay?” My insides are so tight with anxiety. I don’t want her to leave me.

She nods in response.

CHAPTER 12

SKYLAR

I can’t lookat him as he’s telling this story. I’m holding on to my glass and looking out the window. I can’t imagine living with a mom who drank and sexually abused her son. The part about our dad leaving when things got too hard, I can believe that.

I look over at him with sympathy. I’m hoping he can see it in my eyes. He continues telling the rest of the story, and I can’t say a word. “She left me there like that. I woke up a few days later. She was hoping I would die like that.”

The pit in my stomach for him is growing. I clear my throat. “And that’s how you ended up with that scar on your face?”

He only nods his head, looking down at our joined hands.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that.”

“I have you now, and you’re all I need. Those other girls couldn’t handle me like you can.” He looks like he has hearts in his eyes for me, and I try to reciprocate that. I feel for him, but his mood swings always have me on edge. I never know what he’ll do.

“Those other girls, did you ... um...” I’m not even sure how to ask that without him flipping his shit on me. I would rather have sweet Alex and not almost-want-to-kill-me Alex.

“Ah, are you jealous, baby?”

Will he give me the answers my curious mind wants to know if I play into this game of his? I give him my biggest doe eyes and tell him what he wants to hear. “Maybe.”

“I might have practiced with them, but none of them were you, little butterfly.” He leans into me and grabs my wrist gently. I forget all about the whiskey glass and he’s rubbing circles into my wrist. Warm tingles run through me at his touch. I can’t deny the way he makes me feel. I don’t know whether it’s lust or love, but I need it. I almost crave it. Is this how he felt with his mom? I push that thought down as soon as it comes up because I’m not ready to deal with what he just told me. I just want to live in his touch a little bit longer. I lean into him more, and he catches my movement. He begins running his hand up my arm making goosebumps raise in his wake. My breathing hitches as he grabs hold of my face, turning my head to look into his eyes.

“I want you, little butterfly, and no one else.”

He pulls me into a kiss that’s filled with so much want and need. I want to fill that empty space in him. I want to be his obsession. My hands go to his soft hair. Running my fingers through his soft strands and pulling him in as close to me as I can.

His hand leaves my face, and my body’s facing his. He circles his arms around me, lifting me up as I wrap my legs around his waist. I feel consumed by him, and I want to be devoured. He sits me on the kitchen counter, pulling my shirt over my head, making us break from our kiss. We’re both breathing so hard our chests rise and fall in sync with one another. My breasts are grazing his shirt with every inhale. I pull at the edge of his shirt, wanting our skin touching. I need to feel him. If I could meld our bodies together in this moment and never let go, I would. I never want to leave this happy bubble we’re in. Once I get his shirt off, he’s pulling at the waist of the sweats I’m in, and I lift up to allow him to pull them all the way off. He kneels down, looking up at me with a devious look in his eyes, and proceeds to grab my thighs and squeezes them as he trails kisses up to my sex. I let out a breathy moan. His kisses leave trails of fire in their wake.

“I want to mark you.”

He’s looking up, asking with his eyes. I swallow hard and nod, allowing him to mark me.

He runs off to a drawer and pulls out something red. Then he goes over to the butcher block with knives and pulls one out. I’m sure my eyes are bulging out of my head right now, wondering what he’s planning. He’s back at my thighs and kissing them.

“Don’t worry, baby, I just want to make you mine so you’ll never ever forget who you belong to.”

My nerves are skyrocketing but the thrill behind it makes me even wetter.

The red thing he’s grabbed is a lighter. He lights it and puts it to the smooth side of the knife, heating it up. It’s glowing red before he holds me, telling me to hold my breath and that it will only hurt for a second. I’m biting the inside of my cheek and when he lays the scorching knife to my skin, I’m drawing blood. The taste of iron in my mouth is the only distraction from the pain until he’s licking up my slit.

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