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When the flames of my hatred begin to simmer instead of burn, I straddle his motionless body and slide both hands around his throat and squeeze with clawed fingers. I squeeze until my knuckles are white and my fingertips coat with blood. Tears fall down my face as I pour all of my agony into ending this vile man. With one last scream, I dig my fingers in deeper and yank back. My nails rip through his skin, leaving a gaping hole in his throat.
Breathing heavy, I brace myself against his lifeless corpse and hang my head, my hair falling in curtains around my face. “No. No no no no no.” I sob.
Hands grip my shoulders and pull me from the dead man. I scream and flail, my arms flying out wildly. The hands give me a sharp shake causing me to thrash harder, my fingers clawing into the arms trying to surround me. I can feel breath against my ear but can’t hear anything beyond the pounding of my head.
“Let me go!” I shriek.
At least, I hope I say it out loud, my mind seems to have disconnected itself from my body.
I think I hear the sound of Mick’s voice and my wails become louder. “You killed him. You killed him!” Images of Mick’s body lying in his own pooling blood flash before my eyes and my cries fade to sobs. All the fight leaves me and I choke for breath, my head lolling forward. The adrenaline wearing off leaves my body exhausted, blackness clouds my vision as the pounding in my head increases.
The sound of Mick’s voice echoes around me as I slip from consciousness.
“I’m here, little bird.”
I bolt upright, a scream ripping from my throat.
Disoriented, I look around the space. I’m laying on something soft, a bed, I think. I can feel the pull of familiarity tugging at my mind but can’t focus enough to register what I’m seeing. A groan slips past my lips when I turn my head too sharply, causing a wave of nausea to hit me.
Not seeing anything near to use, I lean over the side of the bed and vomit onto the floor, wincing as the force of my body purging itself causes agonizing spikes to my head. I wipe my mouth and slowly sit up. Lifting up a hand, I press it to the back of my head, finding some kind of padding wrapped around it.
Confused, I try to remember what happened.
I was at work, then I went to the park to stake out Vanessa. I remember texting Mick and…
I gasp and my hands fly to my mouth as the memories flood in.
The kidnapping, Kristoph, Mick. Mick lying on the floor. Someone grabbing me.
I look around wildly again, ignoring the throbbing in my head.
I need to get out, I need to find him.
The adrenaline helps my eyes to focus and I take in the room around me full of dark neutral colors of gray and black with splashes of dark red.
I freeze.
It can’t be.
Slowly, I tilt my head back and look at the wall behind me. There, hanging proudly, is a sight that makes me sob.
A bloody heart painting.
Filled with tentative hope, I crawl out of the bed and gingerly step on the ground, careful to avoid my earlier mess. Padding over to the door, I test the knob. It turns and I creak open the door, peering into the rest of the house. My eyes land on a sleeping form on the couch and I run.
Leaping onto him, Mick lets out a pained groan and grips my arms to hold me still. “Careful, baby.” He grumbles.
Ignoring him, I lean forward, crushing my mouth to his. I kiss him with an unyielding passion, pouring all of my fear and desperation into his lips. His hands slide down to my hips as I reach mine up to his hair. I tug the blonde locks and force my tongue into his mouth, both of us moaning as our tongues collide.
He’s alive.
That single thought swirls through my mind as I cling to him.
My hands fly down to his shirt and start tugging, desperate to feel his skin on mine. Mick shifts so he can pull his shirt off while I quickly strip from mine. We both sit there, eyes eating the other up as we pant breathlessly. As if pulled by an invisible string, we both lean forward at the same time. His hands reach up and grip my breasts, pinching my hard nipples. I arch into his touch and moan.
Mick lowers his head to take one of my breasts into his mouth, tweaking my other nipple between his fingers. Gasping, I move my hands back to his hair and scrape my nails against his scalp. “More.” I pant, jerking his head back and gazing into his eyes. “I need more, Mick. Please.” He moves his hand up to my face and softly strokes my cheek. I shift on his lap, rubbing against his erection. Mick’s hand stills and his eyes darken. Flexing his hips, he presses his hard dick against my aching center.
Shifting his hand so he is now firmly gripping my jaw, he leans forward, his breath ghosting my lips. “This what you want?” He teases while flexing his hips again. “You want my cock? Want me to fuck this pussy?” He snaps his other hand out and slaps my pussy. My gasp turns into a moan as he roughly shoves two fingers inside of me. “Fuck. You’re so wet. This all for me, baby?”
