Page 88 of The Second Deal

Ishudder at the sensation, like a cat licking with a sandpapery tongue, butIstay as still asIcan—ifIdon’t fight, maybe he’ll come to his senses and stop, let me run for help.

“Zak, honey,”Iwhisper.

Hemoans, still lapping up blood from my wound.

Grimacingwith fresh tears renewing,Isuck in a sharp breath. “Hon, please stop.”

Buthe doesn’t.

Slowly, as gently asIcan possibly manage,Ipull my arm back.

Zakgrowls and hurls me into the concrete below.

Myhead bashes against concrete.Apounding ache punches into my nose and forehead from the force.

Histeeth sink into my torn flesh, ripping up scabs and tearing open vessels until blood gushes fresh into his mouth.

Ismack his shoulder as hard asIcan. “Zak!”Icry. “Stop!JesusChrist,Z, you’re hurting me!”

Myhead throbs from the effort, andIfall back with a whimper.

Zakcrawls and straddles me, keeping his mouth firmly latched onto the wound.

Idrive my fist into his hard abdomen, but he doesn’t even flinch.

Everythinghurts.

Imake another fist, but it trembles from the effort and sends a searing blaze through my nerves.

Itfalls toZak’sthigh.Islap him as hard asIcan, but he goes on biting and sucking likeI’mnot here, like there’s not someone beneath him struggling to get him to stop.

Whitewings flap behindZak.

Myattention dawdles over to the trees above.

Krissoars over us, heading north—heading home,Iguess, sinceZakseems to be her dirty work for her.

Itake a deep breath, two for good measure, and drive my knee up into where it will definitely hurt.

Hehisses and slams me down, driving my skull into concrete.

Icry out when sharp teeth pierce the flesh of my neck.

“Zak!”Iwail, trying with all my might to hit him, but he captures my arms and pins them down.

NotlikeIhave anything left to give.

WhenImove, nothing happens—the strengthIthoughtIhad is lost somewhere betweenZak’sstomach, the concrete below, and the pounding in my head making my vision flash with the lightning above.

Tearsburn my flesh from the corners of my eyes into my ears.

Zak’sbeard scratches as his tongue greedily laps up blood spilling from my neck.

Thunderrolls.

Eventhough the concrete has been soaking up the blisteringTexassun all day, it’s freezing cold.

Afew droplets of rain dot my forehead.They’recool and send a weak shiver down my spine.

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