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I stare at his grip, his grasp firm. Tightening. I’m burned by his touch.
He leans over me, his face hovering above mine. A shiver ripples through me at the sick, twisted look on his face.
“Please let me go!” I beg.
“No, but I do love it when you beg. I just wish you would save it for when my cock is inside you.”
The wires in my brain cross, and something inside me snaps. My vision goes black, and for one second, I’m no longer here, no longer held captive by my love for this toxic man. I break free of his hold and strike at him with the hand holding the broken glass shard. I recognize his pain-filled gasp a moment before I can comprehend what I’ve done.
Time slows down. There's a break in the foggy rage clouding my judgment, and that gives way to shock. He releases me entirely, pushing up onto his knees.
I look at my trembling hands, seeing the blood on them.
What have I done? I scramble back, like a crab, trying to get away.
I cut him. I cut him.
I’ve never hurt anyone in my life, and now I’ve cut him. I’ve drawn his blood.
Look what he turns you into. An animal. A woman out for revenge.
Bile climbs up my throat. I’m both gripped by fear and guilt. I can’t breathe. My lungs burn as I try to force air inside them. The glass presses against my palm, the weight of it heavier now.
What have I done?
I scramble to my feet, my legs threatening to give out. He’s going to kill me. I need to run. Something dangerous and dark electrifies the air, making it hard for me to breathe.
I watch Drew climb to his feet, his movements slow, and I can’t stop looking into his eyes. Like a moth drawn to a flame, even while knowing the power the flame has over me, I continue to stare, mesmerized, frozen with fear.
Those green emeralds shine in the slivers of moonlight that make it through the trees, and what they reflect is something far scarier than anything I could’ve ever imagined—retribution.
13
DREW
Ifeel the burn of the cut along my skin, proof that she really did cut me, but somehow, I can’t make my brain believe that she actually did. The first cut on my arm was nothing more than a graze, but this one is deep enough that the skin pulls when I shift my arm.
I exhale through my nose. "Flower… that wasn’t very nice of you.”
She peers up at me, her eyes round and wide, the whites circling her entire iris. I watch her throat as she swallows hard and loud.
"I...I asked you to let me go…" Her voice wavers.
"And I told you no. I had no idea you wanted to play so dirty. If I knew, I would’ve come better prepared."
She blinks a few times, her eyes tracking down to the wound. The vodka on her breath reaches me as her breathing picks up.
Make her pay. Remind her who you are. Who she belongs to.
The predator lingers right at the surface, demanding retribution, but he doesn’t understand that there is no reward in any of this if we lose her.
Still, she made her choice, and every choice has a consequence. I snatch her by the wrist and tug her forward until her small frame runs into my chest. She struggles, but I wrap my other hand around her throat and squeeze, just enough to show her that I’m in control.
The more fear that fills her eyes, the harder my cock becomes.
Is it weird, despite her trying to stab me, that I want her hands on me? That I crave her fucking touch like I crave my next breath because she wants to touch me, even if it’s out of violence.
The cut on my pec burns, and I bring her hand back to my chest, pressing the shard of glass against my skin. Then I take a step forward, placing my foot between her legs.
