A groan rolls up my chest when he loosens his grip on my neck. I’m not grunting in anticipation; I read the warning in his eyes, and I know what is coming. He isn’t going to violate me like Nick did to Jenni. He’s releasing me from his hold. Freeing me from the torment.Leaving me hanging.
I’m snapped from my thoughts when Dexter’s feet slap the floorboards. After securing a pair of tiny jeans from a discarded bag, he throws them at my head.
“Put on these, then get in the car. We have a long trip ahead of us.”
Gone is the man who devoured me whole using only his eyes, replaced by a man who looks like he wants to carve out my liver and eat it for dinner.
Remaining quiet, I yank on the skintight jeans. I hate his silence, but I have no way of ending it. I haven’t uttered a syllable in such a long time, I’m beginning to wonder if I know how.
When Dexter spins around to gather the bags left on the floor, I sneakily close the razor and slide it into the pocket of my jeans.
“You’ll need more than a two-inch blade to take me down,” Dexter warns, startling me. After pivoting to face me head on, he continues, “But I’ll give you half a point for attempting to fight.”
I run my thumb over the razor’s blade. It is so sharp, I’m certain one nick to the artery pulsating in Dexter’s throat would drop him to his knees. But for some reason unbeknownst to me, I didn’t secure the razor to hurt him. I took it to protect him.
“There you go with that look again, Megan,” Dexter half-growls, half-moans. “A little angel with a heart as black as death rushing in to save me.” He helps me to my feet, his movements not as abrupt as earlier. “You already killed a man for me; you don’t need to prove your devotion any more than that.”
He taps my bottom in the same manner my father did to my mother before things went sour, then exits the cabin. “If you’re not in the car before me, find your own way to Ravenshoe.”
Trusting his threat, I snag my medication off the floor and skirt past him before he’s even halfway out the door.
