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As I enter the house, people greet me with solemn expressions and whispers of, “Sorry for your loss.”
Anger pulses in my chest when I see Asher huddled up with his stupid cousin.
What the fuck is she even doing here?
Turning on my heel, I waltz straight back outside.
Twenty-Seven
Chapter
ERIK
Asher was waiting for me when I went back to get Alice’s purse.
The glare on his face was laughable. Little punk.
“You got a problem?” I asked, pleased that it was just the two of us and that everyone else had moved back to their cars.
He held back for this moment on purpose, to wait for me. Well there I was, motherfucker.
“Do you think you’re going to be able to hold her down now? That she loves you or some shit?” he grunted, folding his arms over his chest in a pitiful attempt to look like a man.
“You sound a little bitter there. What’s the matter? Step brother got a thing for his sister?” I taunted, showing him none of the fire igniting inside me.
Shaking his head as if amused, he looked over to the car that Alice was sitting inside then back to me.
“A little young for you, no?” he sneered.
“If she can bleed she can breed,” I smirked, knowing that would rattle him.
And he didn’t disappoint, his jaw flexing.
“You honestly think she’s into you, don’t you?” he asked in disbelief.
When I didn’t speak, he took a step closer to me.
“She’s a Lolita, man. Manipulates, using men’s urges against them. Do you think she hasn’t offered me her pussy for the same price you paid?”
“I’ve paid nothing,” I growled, clenching my fists.
“Course you have, and she tried to get me to do it before you. Only I’m not a mama killer. Not for any pussy, no matter how tight it is.”
And that was my snapping point.
I launched at him, rearing back my fist and colliding with his jaw.
He stumbled backwards into the flower arrangement. I fucking knew it before it happened: he was about to join her mother.
Like a fucking nightmare, he falls down the fucking hole, landing with a thud on top of the coffin.
The air whooshing from his lungs.
Fucking cocksucker, probably threw himself down there on purpose.
I checked around to see if anyone saw and my eyes clashed with a startled Alice’s. She’d stepped out the car, frozen to the spot.
Using the casket-lowering device, he pulled himself out of the hole and dusted himself off.
Spitting blood Asher chuckled, looking over my shoulder to Alice before back to me. “Yeah, you’re a real fucking catch.”
“See you at home.”
Fucker.
No one uses me. He’s fucking lying.
I’m obsessive, and I love the hunt, but damn, these weeks with her, not watching her, have been the best of my life.
I didn’t think being needed would feel this good, but she awoke something new in me, and I like it.
But now I can’t get Asher’s words out of my head.
The rage manifests inside me without permission, and no matter how much I reason with it, it won’t leave.
While driving Alice back home she sensed the impending explosion waiting to detonate.
She couldn’t get out the car fast enough, jumping out before I even set the parking break.
But then, before I even make it up the drive to follow her inside, she’s already racing back towards me, her face pale as a sheet.
“What’s wrong?” I ask her as she’s shaking her head.
“I just don’t want to go in there right now. Take me back to yours, please?” she urges, pushing past me and heading back to my car.
I look between her and the house and frown when she calls my name.
“Erik. Please, let’s go.”
There’s tension, thick like fog, condensing the atmosphere around us once we get back to my place. She looks more like the fragile girl I first discovered.
Standing in the huge space of my living room she looks small.
There’s guilt in her eyes or …something else.
“Have you fucked your brother?” I ask, the intent in my voice obvious.
I want to hurt her, dismantle her until she’s broken pieces all around me.
“No,” she gasps before adding, “Did he tell you we had?”
Closing the steps between us she falters, her arms dropping in front of her defensively.
Damn, it fucking pleases me.
Grasping her by the chin, I look into her large startled eyes. “What is it you want from me?” I ask, studying her for cracks.
“To be wanted,” she breathes.
“Oh, I want you, little bird,” I growl, slipping my hand down to her neck and tightening my grip.
Dark brown orbs begin to glass over with tears, and her dainty hands wrap around my wrist for support.
“I want your tears,” I lean forward, swiping my tongue up her cheek.
“I want your fear,” I guide her to the wall and slam her against it, making her lose her breath.
She’s panicking now, her hands slapping at mine, still keeping her contained by the grip on her delicate neck.
