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Except, aren’t victims supposed to be in pain? Aren’t they supposed to be either lifeless or close to it?
I’m none of those things.
I’m alive. I have more life in me than anyone else on this earth.
Zach swallows, his own eyes appearing glassy like mine.
“Don’t lie to me, Blue,” he rasps, clutching my hair with mean fingers.
I jerk when he says my name. Well, the name he gave to me. The name that I’ve always, always loved in secret. In fact, I never even acknowledged it to myself.
I’m acknowledging it now.
Maybe because Zach not only says it, he makes me taste it. I never thought you could taste a name, especially not your own. But mine tastes… musky and spicy.
As if it were a truth serum, words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. “You’ll find it. The… thing. Inside of me.”
His lips part too and he expels a pent-up breath. I take in his air, filling my body with what was once in his.
“Zach, I –”
My words cut off when he moves away from my lips. A moment later, I feel him on my neck. He’s nosing the line of my throat.
I grip his biceps. “A-are you smelling me?”
“Yeah,” he groans.
I flinch and my neck bends sideways. I’m nothing in the face of his aggression right now. The way he’s sniffing my neck, like he’s snorting a line of cocaine. I’m nothing in the face of that need.
Need of a junkie.
“Why?”
“Because you smell nice. Like sugar.”
And sugar is his favorite thing in the world. He’s eating up my scent.
God.
I arch my back when he gets to the triangle of my throat, and I take a deep sniff of my own. What I smell is exactly what I fell asleep to, in his bed.
His blueberry pie and musky scent.
“Y-you smell good too,” I blurt out, then clench my eyes shut in embarrassment.
Zach lifts his head and I have to open my lids when I feel his panting breaths over my lips.
He looks drugged up, I swear.
His pupils are wide, swirling like he really just took a hit of something potent, a narcotic that jacks up your heartbeat and sends you into the stratosphere.
“Do you know what else I’ll find?” he rasps, his fingers touching the pulse on my neck.
“What?”
“If I touch your pussy right now. Do you know what I’ll find?”
The P word is even more intimate than the V word and I can’t stop myself from arching my back even more and fisting his shirt.
