I peer up at the sky before cursing my uncle’s name in vain. He blew up my phone so effectively the first hour of my ‘double date,’ my cell phone battery died almost forty minutes ago, so I can’t access Google Maps. Considering I’m shit at paying attention to my surroundings, I have no clue which part of Ravenshoe I’m in.
I could have sent my uncle’s calls to voicemail, saving me some charge, but since that would lead him to believe I was purposely avoiding him, I didn’t. It’ll be easier for all involved if he believes I left my cell phone at home. Less lethal.
“Now keep going straight for another forty miles,” Maddox says when I take another sharp right. “Or better yet, swallow your stubbornness and accept my offer of a ride home.”
When he nudges his head to his motorbike, it takes everything I have not to scream. I don’t know what’s worse, the fact he’s demanding I goanywherewith him or that he prearranged an exit strategy like he knew this is how our night would end. Whatever it is, he isn’t the boss of me.
“Dem—”
I cut off his growly delivery of my name with an evil glare and flaring nostrils.
He finds it more amusing than scary. “It will take hours to walk to Hopeton. You can be rid of me in under thirty minutes if you’ll just get your ass on my bike.”
I keep walking. Unlike the song, my shoes weren’t made for walking, but that’s what they’re going to do.
“For fuck’s sake. You really will be the death of me, won’t you?” With an agility that proves why he’s undefeated in the circuit he’s been fighting in the past couple of months, Maddox sneaks up on me unaware, wraps his arm around my waist, then hoists me back.
Unlike yesterday when I stiffened like a virgin feeling her first cock braced against her ass, I fight him with everything I have, hurt enough to give as good as I’m getting.
When the whacks of my arms and legs do little to slow Maddox down, I use my voice. “Help me!” I shout into the street, confident one of the many people milling on the sidewalk will come to my rescue. This isn’t Hopeton. Surely, the people of Ravenshoe have some type of morality. “I’m being assaulted. Please help me!”
My last three words come out muffled when Maddox clamps his hand over my mouth. That should shut me up in an instant. My uncle values silence, and he puts measures in place to ensure he can have it no matter what. Duct tape. Gags made from used socks. He’s even gone as far as sitting on my chest and clamping his hands over my mouth when my teenage rebellion went one step too far.
Unfortunately for Maddox, the memory he forced into my head also reminds me of the pledge I made when the screams of my lungs were finally granted.
Fight to live or not fight and still die. They’re my only options.
“Jesus Christ, Demi! You drew blood,” Maddox roars when my teeth sink into the fleshy part of his palm.
You’d think his battle wound would have him dropping me like a bag of manure. Regretfully, Maddox is as stubborn as a mule. He continues dragging me away from the people watching me be assaulted but donothingto come to my aid.
I assume he’s going to straddle his bike with me strapped to his front, so you can imagine my shock when he pays off the doorman of a nightclub half a block up from the restaurant we ate at—it was chosen for a reason—then he walks me through the thrumming space.
When the bass out of the speakers above my head booms through my ears, I immediately stop screaming. I can barely hear Maddox telling me to behave, and his lips are right near my ear, so there’s no use subjecting my lungs to more torture than necessary.
The prickles on Maddox’s jaw create havoc with my skin more than my fight to get away from him. So I won’t mention the controversy I face when our arrival to the middle of the dance floor is followed by him splaying his hand across my stomach, then stepping me back until our bodies are intimately pressed together.
I begin to wonder if I tripped and hit my head when he commences swinging his hips. He refused to speak to me all night, yet I’m supposed to believe he wants to get down and dirty with me on a dance floor.
I’m a little naïve when it comes to aspects of my family’s ‘businesses,’ but I’ve matured a lot since high school.
Brooding? Yes.
A little rough around the edges? Another yes.
Straight-up asshole? Hell to the fucking no.
I don’t believe in the motto ‘treat them mean to keep them keen.’ If you want me to treat you like a king, you sure as hell need to think of me as your queen.
What’s good for one is good for all.
“Nuh-uh,” Maddox growls in my ear when I attempt to pull away from him.
After readjusting his grip on my waist, he grinds his crotch into my ass, leaving me no choice but to pay attention. He isn’t hard like he was yesterday. He doesn’t need to be for my deviant mind. Even soft, he has more under the trunk than the fool I gave my virginity to.
Confident I’m seconds from eating out of the palm of his hand, Maddox presses his lips to the shell of my ear and says, “Look to your right. Just beyond the bar.”
I’m unsure if his gravelly tone is responsible for the prickling of the hairs on my nape or spotting the narrowed watch of a man I’d guess to be mid-thirties. He’s dressed oddly for a nightclub. Don’t get me wrong, the women surrounding him seem to appreciate his brooding demeanor and all-black outfit. He also has a handsome face. It’s just so constricted with annoyance, it makes him unapproachable.
