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It seems like nothing could break through that door. Though, I know it'll take Malik no effort to get to me.
"I'm giving you five seconds."
My mouth drops open, but no words come out. I walk backward, my feet moving of their own accord until my spine hits a bookshelf, novels surrounding me. The smell of books and old paper is inhaled with each breath. So many stories to be read, which feels like an omen, because this is maybe where my story ends.
"One." I hear a click, and the door slides open soundlessly. Malik stands there, a key in his hand. It's old, a skeleton key that's the size of his palm. He tsks. "I give you chance after chance, and you constantly fight me. Why?"
I whip my head back and forth. "You've given me no chances. All you've wanted is to hurt me. Since the moment I stepped into your home."
His head cocks to the side, a contemplative look on his hardened face. "Maybe. But fighting will only cause your situation to become worse. Take a wolf, for instance. The alpha. The head of the pack. What do you think happens if someone steps up to the alpha? The alpha puts you in your place, shows its dominance. Warns you, repeatedly. What do you think happens if the stupid wolf doesn't listen to the alpha, and attacks? Not once, but time and time again. How do you think it will end for that stupid, foolish wolf?"
I picture his vision in my head. The master alpha wolf. Black as the night, with shiny but rough hair. Wild and untamed. Teeth that snarl, sharp and tinged with blood. Making the pack bow down. I imagine the entire pack becoming submissive, lying down around the snarling alpha as he takes charge.
Except one.
A stupid, white wolf that fights back, time after time.
I imagine blood. And I imagine death.
I envision the black wolf standing over the white, torn-apart wolf. Blood dripping through his dark hair as he howls into the night air.
I shiver, staring up at Malik as he stands in front of me.
He smiles, his sharp teeth as jagged as the alpha wolf's would be. Stepping forward, he presses me further against the bookshelf. It grinds into my back, and I step onto my tiptoes for relief, but it doesn't help. Not one bit.
His hands go to the bookshelf on either side of me, trapping me. I lean my head against a thick spine, needing to get away from his scent, but even the smallest inhale has him surrounding me. It feels like he's inside me.
"What're you doing?" I whisper.
A hand drops to the collar of my shirt, his fingers hanging on the top button. "Are you a witch, Vera?"
My eyes widen. "No?"
His eyes lower a bit, like he doesn't believe me. His hand pulls, and I can feel the strain on my buttons. They are nice shirts, but they hold no power against Malik's strong hands.
The first button pops. "You look like a witch.” He leans down, inhaling my scent. “You smell like a witch.” His free hand drops to my bare thigh, squeezing my skin. “You feel like a witch. So, I don’t really believe you, little sister. A regular fucking person doesn't have the ability to do whatever it is you're doing to me."
I look up. "What am I doing to you?"
He snarls and pulls, another button popping. My breasts heave, my scar poking through the top of my cleavage. I want to be self-conscious, cover myself so he doesn't have to see. But does it even matter? He's seen it already, and he's already verbalized his distaste for anything that is me.
"I can't stop thinking about my knife in your cunt." He pulls, and another button pops. Stepping closer to me, I can feel the hardness of his erection pressing up against my skirt. I close my eyes, because it's long. It's long and thick as hell. I'm not a virgin, but whatever hides behind Malik's slacks is not something I've ever experienced.
"I can't stop thinking about your filthy mouth, and how those pouty lips would look wrapped around my cock." I can feel a rush of heat flood between my thighs, and I bite my lower lip to stop the moan that tries to break free.
He pulls again, and the last button pops. The fabric separates, and cool air brushes against my stomach. My fishnets are high, rising above my skirt and wrapping tightly around my hips.
He hisses through his teeth, and I can feel the anger building inside of him. His other hand lowers, and his long fingers wrap around my neck, only barely cutting off my breathing. "And for some fucking reason, I can't stop thinking about your bad fucking attitude. Tell me, Vera, if you aren't a witch, how the fuck is this happening? Because I've had virgin cunts that felt like untouched velvet against my fucking cock. What is it that's so special about yours?"
I glare up at him, anger burning beneath my skin. I go to push him out of the way, but it only makes him pin me even harder against the books.
"This time, baby sister, you aren't going anywhere." His threat is final, certain.
"I don't want your cock that's dipped into a million different cups of whore. I'd rather fuck a sliver-ridden stick. Maybe the reason you can't take your eyes off me is because I'm an actual fucking human rather than the dumb whores you usually spend your time with. Now, get off me," I growl, reaching up and wrapping my fingers around his wrist, ready to pull him off and get away from him.
His hand tightens around my throat. "How easy it would be to snap your windpipe and let your bones disintegrate in my palm."
"Do it," I choke out. "You would be doing both of us a service."
