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“Would there be something so wrong with that?” I call out from behind her.
We reach the bedroom and she spins around to look at me. Her eyes are wide, and the appalled look on her face tells me everything I need to know.
“Of course there’s something wrong with that!” she snaps. “I don’t want blood on my hands. I don’t want someone dying because of me.”
Stepping forward, I grip her waist and pull her so close to me that she has to tilt her head up to meet my gaze. My nostrils flare as I stare down at her indignant expression. “Well newsflash, red, people have been dying for you for a really long fucking time.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” I trail my fingertips up her back, gently tracing her spine, until I reach the back of her neck. Spreading my fingers, I lace them through her hair forming a harsh grip, and she lets out a half moan, half gasp at my touch. “I’ve been killing for you for years red.”
“Th-that’s not true,” she whispers.
“It is. I told you I had to leave you, that I never wanted to. Have you even stopped to ask yourself why that is?”
Her throat expands as she gulps and slowly shakes her head from side to side.
“You were my daddy’s pawn little runaway. You were everything he used to keep me in line, while he turned me into what I am today. What stands before you. It was them, all of them, or you. I fucking chose you, and I killed them. I killed them all. One at a time until I no longer felt remorse for the things I did. The only shred of humanity left inside of me, I’ve been saving for you.”
Her eyes glaze over, and I hear her breathing audibly speeding up.
“I was a kid back then and I knew I couldn’t keep you safe if I brought you with me. But I’m not that kid anymore Spencer. I’d take every fucking life again if it meant knowing you would be safe. And I’ll take more. I’ll rip the still beating heart from the chest of anyone who threatens you. Threatens us.”
She licks her lips, and her pupils widen, eating up her shimmering emerald irises.
“Does that disgust you little runaway? Knowing that the hands that pleasure you have taken lives in your name?” With one hand still weaved in the strands of her hair, I place my other hand flat on her chest, feeling her heart as it pitter patters faster and faster. “Or does it turn you on? Knowing that I’ll gut anyone who stands between us and fuck you over their limp body as they choke on their final breaths?” Sliding my hand up, I gently squeeze her throat.
“And to answer your question, no. I didn’t kill him. But when I’m finished with him, he will be begging for death’s sweet release.”
Her chest is thumping out of control now, I can feel it against my forearm, her heart beating wildly. A caged animal trying to break free.
“I gave you the control you so desperately needed. But it’s my turn now. I need it. I need you to hand it over freely and let me unleash.”
Her tongue sweeps across her bottom lip again and she nods quickly, not moving her gaze. Never breaking the eye contact.
“That’s my girl,” I coo as I lean forward and place my lips against her ear. “If you ever want me to stop, just say…Beetlejuice.”
She nods her head once more, but it’s not enough.
“Nah baby, use your words like a fucking good girl. I need to hear you say you understand.”
“I u-understand,” she stammers.
“That’s it baby,” I whisper, flicking my tongue over her earlobe.
Dropping both hands to my side, I leave her standing, simmering in her own thoughts as I walk over to my bed and kick my sneakers off. The wheels are turning and the reality of everything I’ve become is sinking in. This is it, it’s that pivotal moment. The moment that will make or break me.
Will she push me away?
Or will she submit?
“Get on your fucking knees.”
Turning to face me, she slowly and quietly lowers herself to the floor without hesitation, until she rests on both knees. Her hands fall to her side, and she’s a goddamn vision. Her wild cherry red hair cascading down around her shoulders. The tight black tank top clings to her frame like a second skin, accentuating every curve and swell of her perfect fucking tits. Her short green and black plaid skirt that barely covers her ass, hanging from her hips.
Rising and falling in perfect rhythm her chest reflects a heavy beating heart. It’s fucking beating for me.
“Drop your hands to the floor,” I command, and she does.
