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Why is he asking me that? More importantly, why do I want to tell him yes?
“Fuck.” A lighter clicks, its flame casting a soft glow across the floorboards. My captor sucks in a deep breath, and a strange sweet-smelling smoke floods my senses. With the joint dangling loosely from his lips, he undoes the lock, letting the door swing open as he takes a step back.
“Come here, Lillith.”
My throat bobs at the order. Every cell in my body screams that I should stay put, but for some reason, I crawl toward him on my hands and knees. I know this is fucked up. I know I shouldn’t want this, want him. But he’s stirred something dark in me, something I could never imagine myself capable of.
I want to be held so tightly that I break. I need to feel what it’s like to be put back together, piece by shattered piece. And I know my captor is the only one capable of doing that.
When I finally stand, he doesn’t attempt to touch me. Just cocks his head, the sharp edges of his mask glinting menacingly from the glow of the lit joint.
“I’m going out. You may sleep on the bed.” His silver eye glints with a warning. “Do not try to leave this room. If you do, I’ll know. And you won’t like what happens.” His eye rakes painfully slowly over my naked torso before shaking his head, a flash of something like remorse lighting up his pale iris. He doesn’t want to leave, so why is he?
“I’ll be back before morning. Try to get some sleep,” he whispers, the intensity of it letting me know it’s not a suggestion. He pauses with his hand on the doorknob, giving me one last fleeting glance before storming out of the room.
My shoulders slump as the lock clicks into place, and I fall back onto the mattress. Compared to the thin cot I was sleeping on, this feels like heaven. Faint notes of eucalyptus and sulfur wash over me, filling me with a strange sense of warmth. I shove my face into a pillow, breathing in his scent as my mind muddles with sleep. I’m not sure how I’ll get out of this, but I’m terrified that the longer I stay, the less I’ll want to leave.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
KAIN
The drunken cheers resonating from the inside of the club make me roll my eye. I should have fucking known these idiots would be celebrating tonight. I shouldn’t have come.
“Look who it is! I haven’t seen you in forever, man!”
A low growl tumbles from my lips as I turn to face Landon and his patchee. Judging by the way he cowers behind his superior, he’s heard all he needs to know about me. I almost feel bad at the way his shit-colored eyes light with fear. Almost.
“What do you want, Landon?” I growl, looking over his shoulder to see a group of women ogling us from the porch. Fucking great.
“Damn. They still haven’t found what crawled up your ass, huh?” The patchee elbows a paling Landon, clearly unable to read the room.
“Watch,” I hiss, shooting a glare at the frightened teen. “Landon, where’s Onyx?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.” Landon rolls his eyes with a giggle, spilling whatever was left in his red solo cup. Fucker is sloshed beyond imagination. And it’s only midnight.
I sigh, brushing past him. “Does Carlotta know how much you’ve had to drink tonight?”
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” He hiccups, his lips spreading to reveal a shit-eating grin. “And if it does, I’ll just make it up to her in bed tonight.” He waggles his light brows, causing the dumb fuck behind him to let out a chuckle.
“You’re such an ass.” I fix him with a bored expression, then stomp to the front door, my fingers twitching with the need for… something.
More violence. More pain.
I shake off that irritating little voice in my mind and step inside, letting out a heavy sigh as I saunter up to the bar. It’s been years since I’ve given in to the compulsions, the dark desires that plague me late into the night. So why is it suddenly so hard to control? Deep down, I know it’s the work of my little flower. She’s unraveling me, undoing the very threads of my existence. And I haven’t even fucked her yet.
My cock throbs painfully against the tight denim as I walk behind the bar. Ripping a bottle from the shelf, I wrap my lips around the mouth and chug.
“Fuck.” I cough, my eyes watering as I take in the label. Just my luck. Absinthe.
“I was going to ask how you’re doing, but then I saw you chugging a bottle of fucking absinthe.”
I look at Wes’s scowling face, noting how he’s swaying on his feet. “I’m fucking peachy.”
“Where have you been?” he asks, searching my face with dull chocolate eyes. “Are you really so busy that you can’t hang out with your brothers anymore?”
“I can’t do this tonight, Wes.” I sigh, rubbing a tired hand over my jaw. “Piss off, would you?”
“Right. The only thing that matters is what Kain wants. I forgot,” he slurs, whipping his arms to the side in an attempt to seem more formidable. Like he needs the help. “You don’t even care what’s going on in this club anymore. If you did, you’d be here handling this shit.”
