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Cassia’s eyes find mine, anger seething from her blue pits. “I don’t need your fucking permission, bitch.”
I shrug and begin walking down the stairs, unfazed by her outburst. The numb feeling that has overwhelmed me since I left the dungeon is intensifying each day. The more I realize it’s so much better when you can’t feel, the more I find myself slipping deeper and deeper into the dark hole of empty feelings. It’s nice here. Dark, damp, and empty. Bypassing the kitchen, I walk out towards the floor-to-ceiling windows and slip through the sliding door. A deep growl thunders beside me and I pause, remembering Miles talking about the pack of Dobermans Raze keeps on the property. I wait for something, anything, to prickle my skin, but nothing comes. The fear that one would usually feel right before they realize they might just become dog food is lost and I turn slowly to face the growling animal.
“Hey, boy,” I coo at him, and his growl deepens, his long legs changing to fighting stance. I exhale out the pent up air and drop to one of the outdoor seats, defeated. “Well, get it over with, buddy. You would probably be doing a lot of people a favor.” I tilt my head to the side on the chair when I realize the growling has stopped. Peeking one of my eyes open, I look towards the dog to find him slowly dropping onto his belly to lie down. His head drops but his eyes remain on me. “Really?” I say, and his eyebrows raise a little. “I’m a little disappointed in you.” A slow moan comes out of his, or her, mouth and I laugh a little.
“Millie!” Miles comes out the door in hushed tones, keeping his eyes on the dog. “Jesus fucking Christ, woman! You got a fucking death wish?” The dog stands to his feet so quickly I almost miss it. “Millie, Chucky doesn’t like me very much. Can you get your ass inside before you get us both killed?”
I smirk at Miles’ horrified face. I’ve noticed a lot about Miles. He’s always wearing an immaculate suit, his hair is always delicately styled, and he never has a speck of dirt or anything that isn’t perfect on him. His eyes say deranged, but his demeanor screams frisky. It confuses me somewhat, but it works. It works for him and I’ve found myself slowly warming up to him.
“Calm down,” I begin, standing to my feet and walking towards the door. Miles sucks in a breath and I drop down to scratch the back of Chucky’s ear, the soft short hair slipping between my fingers. Chucky leans into my scratch. “Oh, don’t mind him, Chucky. He’s mad because he hasn’t been laid.” I smile up at Miles and his eyes narrow at me from behind his glasses.
“You wanna rectify that, sister?” he teases.
I snort. “Thanks but no thanks. Apparently I’m to save my virtue for Raze. It’s a part of my ticket out of his place.” I continue scratching Chucky before standing.
Miles smirks. “Good luck with him. He plays as dirty as I do.”
Oh, I’m sort of aware of how dirty Raze plays.
I walk into the house with Miles slowly retreating behind me, but keeping his eyes on Chucky. “I need to know what’s going on, Miles. I need to get the hell out of here as soon as possible.”
Miles takes a seat on the oversized L lounge sofa that faces the windows to look out onto the backyard. “Look, I can’t tell you anything, Millie. It’s too complicated and there’s a lot going on behind the scenes.”
I wrap my legs under myself. “Why is he keeping me here? Why did he damn well buy me? I was ready to be holed up with some Japanese man.”
Miles snorts. “I doubt that, little one. Had Hachiro got his hands on you, you’d have a lot worse of a life right now, that I can guarantee you.”
“This is crazy,” I whisper to myself. “I’m in limbo where I don’t know what is real and what isn’t. My brain slips in and out of consciousness and I don’t even know sometimes because there’s voices inside of my fucking head.” I laugh, dropping my face into my hands.
“What do you feel right now?” Miles asks me, leaning forward so his elbows relax on his knees.
I cup my chin in my hand and ponder over his question. What do I feel right now? I dig deep into my brain, asking myself the question and repeating the mantra in my head. An imaginary hand reaches into my brain, wanting to grasp onto something, anything, but missing it just as its fingertips brush over the surface and it retreats back into the nothingness it creaked out from. My eyes gloss over and I slowly shake my head. “Nothing.”
Miles watches me with careful eyes. “Mmm, I know that look…”
He stands from the sofa and walks to a cabinet. Pulling open the door, I hear clinks of glasses. He walks back to the sofa and places two glasses on the coffee table sitting in front of us before placing down the clear crystal bottle which holds an amber liquid. I tilt my head to study it.
Miles rolls his eyes dramatically. “You’ve never been drunk, I’m guessing, but this right here, this will make you feel something. Besides the fact that humans use it to mask their feelings, it actually raises them too. And in your case, dear one, we need you to feel something, and drunk is still a feeling.” He pours the liquid into each glass before picking them up and handing one to me. “Cheers,” he says, smirking around the rim of his glass.
“Cheers.” I take a sip of the alcohol only to push it away. “Oh, that’s disgusting. I’m feeling something alright. I’m feeling my lips which are on fire. What the hell is this stuff?”
I look down at the glass in disgust. Miles cups my hand, his warm palm casing mine gently and I smile up at him. “The trick is to open your throat and down it. Don’t let in linger in your mouth—or your lips, for that matter. Try again.” He tilts the glass to my mouth and I open my throat for the liquid, tipping my head back and allowing the burn to ignite my throat before resting in my belly.
“Woah!” I say, placing the glass back onto the table. “That burns, but it feels warm… and squishy.” I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, my teeth catching it in the action.
Miles chuckles, twisting the lid off the glass bottle and pouring more into both our glasses. “That instruction is actually what I tell chicks when they’re licking my dick, but hey, it works for alcohol too.”
I laugh, nudging him.
“You know, my sister drank a lot,” I say with a smile. “I actually thought I had the start of an alcoholic on my hands, like our dad was, only I understand now that it has a lot to do with men and the presence they bring.” I pick up my drink and bring the cool glass to my lips before throwing it back and reliving the same feeling. Only this time, it feels warmer and fuzzier. I laugh.
Miles leans back and loosens the tie that’s around his collar before unbuttoning his suit jacket and placing it tidily beside himself. “Your sister, what’s she like?” he asks.
I know what he’s doing, trying to bait my feelings by using my sister.
“Like every sister. Annoying.” Placing my glass on the table, he refills our glasses. This happens throughout our conversation. “Tell me, Miles. What goes on behind this perfect exterior?” I place my hand on his collar while my other hand holds my head, and my elbow rests on the rim of the sofa. My body is turned towards Miles, whose legs are stretched wide in front of him and his head is tilted back with his eyes locked on the ceiling. “We both have some inner monsters, Miles. Mine are newborn, so they’re running a little haywire right now. You show me yours and I’ll show you mine?” I run my finger over his sharp jawline. “Maybe you can teach me how to tame them.”
Miles sucks in a breath of air with a hiss and I pick up the glass bottle from the table, bringing it to my lips and watching his eyes darken before me as I tip the bottle back and take a long pull of the potent liquid. He sits forward and reaches into the drawer underneath the coffee table and pulls out a remote control. He pushes the power button and the deep sound of Ruelle’s “Monsters” starts playing.
