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“I’m not a fucking package, you ass-wipe!” I snarl.
He gives a dark chuckle and even Zie’s lips twitch, although his face turns to stone the moment Axel’s next words come through.
“I think your journey will be easier if the package doesn’t speak anymore.”
Zie sighs, agrees, cuts the call. Then he looks at me. Really looks at me for the first time in years. There’s something in his eyes akin to regret, but I don’t think that’s what I’m seeing at all.
“Sorry about this,” he murmurs, sounding anything but, and placing a hand on my thigh to steady himself as he reaches around me to re-clip my seatbelt. He deliberately pins my arms to my sides and a cool sheen breaks out on my forehead. I curse under my breath but he ignores me, reaching into the glove box. He flips it open and pulls out a roll of—
“Is that fucking Gaffer tape?” I ask, incredulous. Zie doesn’t answer though, pulling a short length of tape from the roll and tearing it with his teeth.
“You have got to be fucking kidding m—”
I’m silenced by his slapping the tape right over my mouth and my eyes nearly bug out of my head. “You fucking piece of shit!” I snarl but all that comes out is angry muffles.
Instead, to make the point of how fucking pissed I am, I wiggle my arms free of the seatbelt and smack him with my right hand, while palming and releasing my blade with my left.
“The fuck?!” Zie cries when he spies me transferring my weapon to my right, more accurate, hand. “Why do you have a knife?”
I can’t reply so I swipe at him, cutting a shallow line along his forearm, he hisses and curses, then disarms me easily. He pockets my knife and I give him my most hateful glare before raining down blows on him with my frustrated fists.
“Stop! Odile, stop it! For Christ’s sake, fucking pack it in, Peony!”
He captures both my wrists in his hands and I immediately freeze under his touch. He has to be able to feel my erratic pulse under his fingertips.
“Stop it or I’ll use that roll of tape to restrain you, you hear me?” he snaps. I turn to stone and he grabs me by the chin. “We’re almost there, can you play nice for ten minutes without the tape?” It pains me, but I grit my teeth and nod. “Good girl,” he says patronisingly, hitting my cheek twice a little too hard to be considered a tap.
It makes my breath hitch. How fucked up am I to be turned on right now by a slap round the face while gagged, no less?
“Any more weapons you want to own up to having, or do I need to frisk you?” I shake my head no and Zie smirks coolly at me. “Shame.” He clicks his tongue and turns back to the wheel, firing up the engine and taking off once more.
All I can do is stare at a spot on the dash wondering what the fuck is wrong with me. This is Zie. I hate him. I can’t even claim that I’m turned on because of the trip down memory lane, because the boy from my childhood was nothing like this cold, confident man beside me.
I don’t know why I don’t just reach up and remove the tape, other than the fear I guess that he’ll just add more and make good on his threat to restrain me. I have to sit on my hands though to keep from smacking him again as he whistles nonchalantly. I swear he’s doing it on purpose to wind me up. He knows I’ve always hated whistling. The urge to slap him is so fucking strong but I worry that if I snap I’ll be kissing him not killing him.
An agonisingly long ten minutes later he pulls up outside an abandoned-looking, completely run down and jaded hotel. I barely have a moment to take in the ramshackle state of the place before he signals into an underground garage and parks.
He turns to me and rips the tape from my mouth.
“Motherfucker!” I scream, blinking back smarting tears. No, it’s not the worst pain I’ve ever felt, but I didn’t fucking ask for a Brazilian to my fucking face. Jesus Christ, if that’s what intimate waxing feels like, I’ll stick to my fucking razor blades, thanks.
Next thing I know Zie’s out of the car before I can bitch him out and opening my door like some fucking gent. Yeah right. I quickly flip down the visor and reapply my lipstick. Actually, I need to figure out how I’m going to get my knife back off Zie.
A moment later he’s hauling me from the car with an impatient click of his tongue and setting me roughly onto my feet. Before I can steady myself, he’s crushing his lips to mine and I can’t breathe. I swear, it’s like my hands are bound for all the good they do me at pushing him away. My pulsing pussy is fully on board with this surprise attack from Zie’s tongue too. He fists my hair and pulls it roughly before adding his other hand and repeating the action. It’s like he’s trying to mess it up on purpose but my body responds enthusiastically to his rough treatment. I’m fucking damaged, I swear.
As abruptly as he started, he pulls away, and I’m barely able to disguise my little mewl of protest. Zie gives me a scorching once over and smirks again. I hate that smirk. I want to wipe it right off his innocent-looking face. Zie might be anything but innocent, but the hardened smirk looks out of place on his angelic visage. At least he was distracted enough that I was able to swipe my knife back while he was kissing me. I discreetly pocket it while his eyes are closed and he takes a deep, calming breath.
“Not bad. Shame about the outfit though,” he sighs, forcing his heated gaze to turn cold. Yeah, I’m not buying it. I don’t know what the hell he’s playing at, but I do know that Zie was as turned on as me by that unexpected kiss.
Turning on his heel, he walks away leaving me gaping after him. “Come, doe,” he calls over his shoulder, his tone filled with arrogance that gets my back up. But his use of the term ‘doe’ tells me all I need to know: we’ve arrived, this is part of the Hunting Ground, and we all have a part to play.
Wordlessly, I follow him, stepping into the guarded elevator.
It takes me by surprise when we start shooting downwards. I thought we were in the basement already. Nothing good ever came from venturing further underground.
“Goddamnit, Zie! I just fixed this lipstick! If you fuck it up again I will stab you!” I complain before fixing my lipstick again in the dull metal reflection of the elevator doors. His quiet chuckle is almost hidden by the elevator pinging our arrival, but I catch it, and it warms my chest to know that the boy from my past hasn’t disappeared entirely.
“Zie, please,” I beg.
