Page 20 of The Wildflower


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I fucking crave her submission, the softness of her body as I bend her to my will, forcing her to take whatever it is I want to give her. Yes, I fucked up, and I’m man enough to admit that, but I’ve given her more than enough time and space. I can’t keep myself in check anymore. I can’t be without her. She's not getting away from me this time.

Like a spooked animal, she takes off, racing in the direction of the stacks.

Just as I anticipated. I take off after her, slipping through the line of chairs, shelves, and tables, heading right for her. She cuts through some bookshelves to the right, and I follow closely like a bloodhound. She’s backing herself into a corner.

"Bel, don't do this. There is nowhere you can go that I won't find you, and the last thing you want to do is provoke me, especially when I’ve gone so long without you. Don’t make me do something I don’t want to do.”

I’m greeted with silence.

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. Fuck.

Flower wants a chase. She’ll get a chase.

No matter what, she’s not escaping me. Not this time.

6

BEL

No. No. No, no, no. I can't do this right now. Shit. Panic bubbles up and out of me like a boiling pan of water. I can't do this right now. First, the altercation with Jackie, and now, Drew is here.

I’m not sure what I’ve ever done to piss God off, but the heaping piles of shit he tosses on me could stop at any point. My adrenaline spikes, the thunderous sound of my heartbeat fills my ears, and I press a hand to my mouth, forcing myself to keep quiet as I move through the stacks. I stick close to the bookshelves, hiding in the shadows, and there are plenty this far back in the library.

"Bel," Drew calls for me softly.

Thankfully, the sound isn’t loud enough to carry into the main library room. I breathe slowly, reminding myself that he can’t hurt me. Not anymore. Not ever again.

If he can’t hurt you, why are you running?

Ignoring the thought, I walk slowly, pushing deeper into the stacks until I'm surrounded by nothing more than old shelves and years of dust and neglect.

It’s sad to watch the demise of books and how little people care for them. With the internet, no one comes back to these older tomes, and the school has let them languish. I do my best to think a step ahead, but there’s no real hiding from Drew. He’s a predator at his most basic instinct. The only thing I can hope to do is stay hidden as long as possible, until he gets tired of searching for me.

Which will be… never.

Ahead, I notice a corner just small enough for me to hide in. Bingo. Quickly, I tuck myself behind it, crouching with my back to the shelf. I feel a little safer here. Once in position, I wrap my arms around my middle to keep myself from crumpling into a million pieces.

Why did he have to come here today? Did someone tell him I'd be here? Did Jackie call him?

I grit my teeth, red-hot fury pulsing through me. If she did, I'll...I'll… I don't know what I’ll do, but I certainly won’t let it go. I'm past the point of breaking. I’m done being used, toyed with, and then discarded like worthless trash. I won't ever be someone's plaything again and especially not his.

Whatever he wants from me, he’ll have to take by force, which I know Drew will hate to do. He doesn’t get pleasure from taking. He gets pleasure from submission, from me giving up complete control and surrendering to him.

My ears catch the shuffle of a boot on the carpet, and my muscles tense as I wait for him to hopefully pass by without a glance.

"Bel," he calls again, his voice a dark caress. It wraps around me, tightening its grip on my resolve, making it difficult to remember why I hate him so much. Hard-edged and cutting, or soft and sensual, it doesn't matter… I’m always his willing victim somehow.

His voice ignites the embers of desire deep in my gut.

This run-and-hide game is so familiar it hurts. An ache forms in my chest, the pain spreading outward. It’s so suffocating I can barely breathe around it.

God, I've missed him.

I swallow hard, and the memory of all he’s said comes barreling into me. No. I can't miss him. He's an asshole, even worse than I ever thought he could be. I can’t remember how many times he warned me, telling me that he wasn’t a good guy. I should’ve believed him. I should’ve looked at the red flags and ran the fuck away.

Stupid. So stupid. Instead, I let him use and abuse me. Only to be left discarded when he had his fill. Fuck him. He made his choice, and he chose wrong. Now, he’ll have to deal with the consequences because I refuse to be second best for anyone, let alone Drew Marshall.

The longer I sit here, the more consumed I become with confronting him. This unbearable desire to hurt him the same way he hurt me, even if I know I can’t do so physically, fills me.

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