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Especially negative attention.
She enjoys the bite of pain; she unconsciously understands the pleasure-pain of teetering on the razor’s edge of humiliation. It’s a bully’s best-kept secret, the subtle push and pull we maintain. Bullies get a bad rap, but it takes two to tango. I may have made a miscalculation and broken our unspoken pact in the cafeteria, but I swear, I will do everything in my power to repair that trust. And when its restored, she will feel the full wrath of my hand.
I grit my teeth and hold back my raging instinct to correct her.
Instead, I lean in and make a shushing sound near the curve of her outer ear. “You will not roam around the city alone. You are mine. Under my protection.”
“No,” she refutes.
“Yes,” I shout.
I squeeze my eyes shut as I fight to regain control.
Breathing out a long breath, I continue, “You don’t know what’s going on, but trust me when I say it’s about your safety. When I say, no more, I mean no more.”
I grip her ass cheek, which I see is a sweet shade of pink from the lightbulb above the gallery exit and a few lighted windows from the building across the way.
One cheek resting against my car, I watch tears slide down the side of her face.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
I let out a sigh as I smooth my hand over her burning ass cheek, remaining silent.
She sniffs. “You won’t tell me.”
I’ve already said too much. I gave her a hint because she needs to understand the level of danger involved. We haven’t yet established the kind of trust where a smack to her ass will prompt her to behave. I’m hoping that the few choice words of warning I gave her will do the trick.
I pull her off the car and into my chest. She instinctually cuddles a little into my larger frame and I pray it’s more than just the slight chill of the spring night. I hope it’s because she feels safe with me. With her slight body nestled into me, it hits me. I may have fucked a lot of women, but this is the first time I’ve held one in my arms.
Star feels like a bundle of warmth and softness and I tighten my embrace around her. In this moment, I realize that my words to Cristo about her being under my protection were prophetic, because I will do whatever is necessary to keep her safe.
Her eyelids drop to half-mast as she settles her cheek against my chest. She lets out a sigh that sounds suspiciously like relief.
“Come on,” I urge gently. “Let’s get in the car.”
Maybe it’s because she’s tired, but for once, she does what I say without giving me lip.
I place my hand on the crown of her head when she bends down to get in. I close the car door, grateful to shut her inside. Relief surges through me knowing she’s enclosed in a bubble that I control. In my car. Under my guard.
The words I spoke to Cristo echo in my mind,she’s mine. They settle like a truth, a rightness in my heart. Star is mine. Maybe she always was.
CHAPTER12
LUCIAN
Two days after my confrontation with Star, I’ve ordered her to meet at my house to study.
Cristo has given me a rare day off. I suppose I should be grateful for his “understanding,” but he’s just afraid I’ll randomly shoot someone who speaks to me sideways today. He wouldn’t be wrong. On this day—on this specific day every year—I’m righteously pissed off.
Pissed off…and soul-crushingly sad.
Lying on the bed, I cover my eyes with my arm. The warm late afternoon sunlight from the open window slants across my body. I take in a breath and let the melancholic strain of piano emanating from the speakers wash over me as I wait, like a predator in its lair.
I hear the creaking of the floorboards above me. Star has arrived through the front door. Either Mama or Zoe answered, forcing Star to talk to them for a bit before being pointed toward the staircase to the basement.
I imagine her lightly tripping down the basement steps. I fantasize of one day being there to greet her. I’ll sweep her into my arms and carry her to bed. I’ll carefully lay her down and spread her creamy thighs so I can delve into her sweet nectar, smear her scent across my mouth and jaw like I did in the back alley of the gallery. Even shrouded in darkness, I reveled in her blush when she fell apart, her onyx eyes flashing, saying,I can’t believe I’m letting you do this to me in public.
Oh, she’s a dirty girl underneath that studious, oh-so-serious demeanor. Her confusion was adorable when I dropped to my knees. She thought teenage boys notoriously want girls to do it. She thought we’re not interested in reciprocating, much less initiating on our own. I loved proving her wrong.
