AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’ve got him on the ground, slamming my fist into him again and again, my rage not abating even though his face is battered and bloody.
I’m not surprised at all to hear Elowyn’s sexy, throaty voice yelling at me. I turn briefly to see her running toward me, Maria following behind.
As if Maria von Fapp could stop me from doing whatever I wanted to.
I can feel El’s hands on me, grabbing my waist to try to get me to stop.
“Stop, Beau!” she snaps at me.
My name in her mouth shouldn’t make me feel like this. Even when she’s pissed at me, I can feel it all along my skin, like an itch I can’t scratch.
“Stop, goddamn it!” she cries.
I stop.
“You’re a psycho,” she says disapprovingly.
If she only knew. My need for her is making it difficult for me be to around her and keep my hands to myself. It’s getting increasingly difficult to resist my urges to take her when and where I want.
Then El bends over the guy.
“How detail-oriented would you say you are?” she asks.
He moans, his face a bloody mass, his broken nose a mush in the center of his face.
“Do you enjoy arts and crafts?” she continues.
I can’t help smiling at her. “He’s not the letter writer,” I say, forcing my voice to be harder than I feel, because she’s trying to figure the mystery out even when I told her not to. “He’s just a drunk jackass.”
Elowyn looks at him again. “I guess you’re right,” she says. “Those are not the fingernails of a man who carefully cuts out 200 letters for a handmade death threat.”
Then she turns to me. I could look at her all fucking day when she’s this mad, her curls all escaping from her long braid, her hands on her hips, her skirt askew a bit so I can see a few inches of her stomach.
“I think that’s a sufficient amount of punching,” she says.
“I’m not done, El,” I say.
And I’m not. I want to kill this guy.
“You’re done,” she retorts. “He doesn’t even have any more noses to be broken. And don’t call me El.”
But she’s mine to give any nicknames I want to.
She’s mine, even though she doesn’t know it yet.
15
ELOWYN
It’s the morning of the Jane Austen Drag Queen Brunch, and I’ve got a date with Emilia beforehand.
I’ve finally managed to convince her that Beau was just an asshole who thought he was being hilarious.
I was in the drag club women’s restroom, looking anxiously in the mirror. I was wearing a short white sundress with little puffed sleeves and a pink rose pattern. For once, I had done my hair instead of putting it in a braid, and it hung in long soft dark waves down my back. I thought I looked OK, although I was pretty sure the humidity would have my hair flat as a pancake immediately.
Then I heard a wild pounding on the door.
“Elowyn!” I heard Luis say. “Come quickly!”
