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“I’m being serious,” I say weakly. God, this is hard, but I have to. “You can’t kidnap me to go on a date with you. I don’t want to take this any further. I’m asking you to respect that.”
“You know, Billie.” He must be smoking because there’s a short pause and a loud exhale. “I’ve come to understand there are a few things I’m willing to respect for you. Like not making you suck my cock since it reminds you of that night. Or the fact that I could have killed Xi tonight, yet I let him off with a warning because I know he’s your family. But if there’s one thing you won’t get out of me, it’s to leave you alone. So why don’t you be a good girl for me and tell me if you prefer Italian or Japanese food?”
I shake my head. “Three stab wounds. Is that what you call a warning?” I hiss with fury. “He almost died.”
“But he didn’t. I can change that.”
“Caden…please,” I huff. “We need to stop this.”
“Fine,” he drawls, and I can almost hear his wicked smile through the phone. “Play hard to get. I will get you anyway. Tomorrow, eight p.m., after you finish your shift.I’ll choose the food. You choose if I drag you there or you come willingly.”
He hangs up on me, and my mouth falls open.
How can he be fine with forcing a girl on a date with him?
My phone pings and I glance down to find a text from him.
Caden: 1:06 to 1:26 My Bloody Valentine.
Rolling my eyes, I still can’t help but check what he means. I open the Good Charlotte album and tap on the song with my thumb. My throat tightens, and I gulp painfully. It’s not because the song is about a psycho who killed the girl’s lover so he could be with her. No, it’s because he chose the bits of the lyrics that clearly sayI love you.
Surely he didn’t mean it because Caden can’t possibly love.
Especially not me.
24
CADEN
Bodies - Bryce Fox
Billie is wearing a short black dress when she walks out of the diner she works at. I can’t help but smile, knowing I got what I wanted.
It wasn’t hard to figure out where she worked. I just had to force it out of Racer while he was digging his grave in the woods.
She’s holding her gym bag, where I assume she’s put her work uniform, and is wearing her usual sneakers, but I know she made an effort for me. She stops before she sees me, pulling at her dress before looking down at her boobs and rearranging the dress around them. She pushes them up, pulls the bodice of the dress down, and attempts to show more of them before her shoulders slump as she gives up. Her boobs aren’t big, that’s for sure, and looking at the way they pop out of her dress right now, I understand she’s probably put on a push-up bra.
She didn’t need to. She’s perfect as she is. Could have worn her work outfit, and I still would have found her irresistible.
I’m not sure when or how it got this bad. She haunts my thoughts, her big doe eyes always at the forefront of my mind. Her raspberry and mint scent is a need I can’t satiate.
I play with the piercing on my tongue, running it against the back of my teeth. I keep wondering if I’d change anything if I could go back.
Suppose I should have stopped before it went too far. The thing is, there’s no ‘too far’ in my perspective. I do what I want, and I do whatever it takes. Everything around me is for me to take and for people to give. Whether I take it forcefully or not isn’t really my problem.
But I do wish Billie wasn’t so scared of me. She saw the ruthless side of me—the Kings’ man who does what he must to impose respect and fear.
I don’t think I would change anything, though. Billie has seen the worst side of me, and if she can take it, if she can move past it and understand there’s more to me, then we’re settled for life. Because once someone has seen the worst of you, they can love you for everything you are. That’s the beauty of knowing someone inside out. You can’t hide anything, not even your monsters.
Billie finally notices my car and walks over to me. She opens the door and gets in, rubbing her arms from the cold. “Will you drop me off here, after? My car is parked in the lot.”
“Hello to you, too, gorgeous.”
“Yeah, yeah. Hi. Can you answer my question?” she says, annoyed.
“Depends,” I shrug.
“On what?” she snaps.
