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My legs begin to shake, hanging over the side of the bed. I swallow thickly and know danger when it is in front of me. I know it’s scent. This man is dangerous. He's evil in the worst way. Insane. The tears threatening to fall slide down my cheeks, and I turn my head so he doesn't see them.
His head snaps up, and as much as I try to hide the wetness trailing down the apple of my cheeks, he catches them with a gloved finger, holding them up like they are evidence of a crime.
"Please," I plead.
"Don't be scared, my love,” he says, pushing himself off the bed.
I freeze, afraid of what he will do next. He picks up my phone, and I watch him go through it and set it down. He turns to face me and holds his hand out for me to take it.
I wipe my face and slowly place my hand in his. A haunting melody begins to play from the playlist saved on my phone. A playlist he left for me to listen to. He pulls me close, gripping my waist, and his head is bent, looking down at me from behind the mask.
I sway with him to the music. The words feel like they are floating around us; we are in a place only he and I can go. A place that only exists as long as he's in it.
The backs of his gloved fingers slide over my damp cheek down to my neck in a soft caress, and I shiver from the electricity running over my skin from his touch. I place my hands on his chest and feel his heart beating fast, thumping under my fingers.
He's nervous.
He's afraid.
But of what?
"Don't fear me. I couldn't bear the thought of you fearing me. I prefer your hate,” he says softly.
I lay my head on his chest. The feel of his fingers caressing my head. "Don't give me a reason to fear you."
"I can't make you that promise, my love. But I won't hurt you."
"You're one of them. The Consortium."
"Yes."
"A-are you crazy?"
"Some think so."
I look up. "And you?"
"Asking a person with a mental illness is like asking a drunk if he's an alcoholic."
I snort. "You're crazy, aren't you?"
A deep rumble comes from his chest when he says, "When it comes to you, I'm insane."
"You don't know me."
"I know that you have never had what you truly want. I know that something inside you is trying to get rid of something dark. Something, someone put there. It is not Reid or Valen. Or that idiot Garret with a small appendage.
I giggle. "How do you know that?
"A little bird told me, but I want to know your secrets, your darkness, and your hell. Secrets so deep, not even the devil knows."
"Why don't you tell me yours, Z."
He stops moving and looks above my head. "I can share one of them. A truce."
I step away, and he slides his belt off, and I frown. "Lie on the bed and hold your hands above your head."
My eyes dart to the bed behind me, and my curiosity outweighs my logic and I let him tie me to the old headboard. He makes sure I cannot get free. He moves to turn off the lights, and before I can protest, the room is dark.
