Page 146 of Beautiful Scars

“You forget who’s holding the knife?” I press the tip to the skin right below his belly button.

“Are you sure about this?”

I glance around. “You’re right. Anyone could walk in.” I step back, and beckon him with the knife. “Up.”

* * *

I keep waiting for him to laugh. To disobey me. To take the knife off me.

But he doesn’t.

I bring him all the way to the dungeon by knifepoint. Make him get on the bed. My plan is to shackle him and leave, knowing full well it would take Cole coming home or Sarah waking up before he stands a chance at getting free.

By that time, I’ll be long gone.

Except...I’ve never had anyone at my mercy before. And Kill, of all people? Maybe I have a sadistic streak, because this feels good. Too good.

“Tie yourself up,” I tell him, using the knife to point to the shackles.

His eyes are black under the room’s red lighting. I take a quick peek around while he reluctantly obeys, shackling his hands to the leather cuffs dangling from the headboard. I can’t believe I spent so much time down here without losing my mind.

Then again...

My eyes fly back to Kill when he yanks at the cuffs, making the whole bed tremble. Are they even strong enough to hold him? I push away the thought and instead take a step back.

That’s it. Nice and slow. You’re going to go upstairs, you’re going to find the keys to his car, and you’re gonna—

“How does it feel, huh?” I ask him.

He cocks an eyebrow at me. He’s all sorts of sober right now, and that makes me a little concerned, because I’m pretty sure I only got one over on him because he’d been drunk.

“You going back home?” he asks. “Back to South Africa?”

I shrug as if I haven’t even given it a thought. “What’s it matter to you?”

He narrows his eyes. “Be nice to have a heads up where to start looking.”

Something squeezes my heart, hard and vicious. “Looking?”

He shifts a little on the bed, rattling the cuffs. “Aye. What, do you think I’d let you just leave?”

“I am leaving!” I shoot back and then wave the knife a little for extra gravitas. “And you can’t stop me.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, princess.” He relaxes a little, even snuggling his shoulders into the pillows. “But at least bring me my shirt.”

“I thought you don’t get cold?”

“When I’m moving about.” He glances down at himself. “Can’t do much of that now, can I?”

“That’s the point.” I scan him, and then take a step closer to the bed. “In fact, I believe all you left me in was your fucking shirt. I didn’t even have pants. Or underwear.”

He narrows his eyes at me, and that’s all it takes to stoke the embers of revenge back into a spitting bonfire. I clamber onto the bed, pointing the knife at his stomach as I get closer. “Lie still.”

“What are you—”

“And shut up.”

His jaw closes with a click of teeth. “Meisie...”