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“Yes, Ash, I’m ready. I love you forever and on.”
That became our secret place.We spent so many hours wrapped in each other's bodies in the middle of that maze. Now I avoid that place like it's infested with bees. Seeing her still standing there looking so embarrassed about the idea of doing anything sexual with me makes me laugh.
“Aww, how adorable. You’re turning red. No, Dollface, when I say slave, I mean you do whatever I tell you as quickly as possible without complaint. When I snap my fingers, you get down on your knees, bow that pretty little head of yours, and wait for my instructions. If I want homemade baked goods at two in the fucking morning, you will deliver. If I want you scrubbing my toilets in nothing but your panties, you will do it. We may have been something once, Dollface, but as far as I'm concerned, that girl died with my sister.”
During my little tirade, her face turned every shade of red you could imagine. She looked like she was about to blow her top, but with that last comment, she turned as pale as a transparent ghost. Eyes wide, chest gasping. God, she's beautiful like this, frozen like helpless prey who knows she's about to be caught.
“Mia was your sister?” she gasps, but I’m done.
Dollface, you have messed with the wrong guy. Get ready to meet the beast in me. But beware, no matter how much you try to run or hide, there's no escaping him. He will find and devour you.
“This, I promise,” I say quietly after I turn my back on her and walk to the locker rooms.
ChapterSix
Mia? This is all about Mia? My hands start to shake, and my chest is tight. I know a panic attack is about to hit me, and it's going to be a bad one. Mia had a brother? Why can I remember her and not him?
He must have been around me growing up? Why can’t I just remember? Getting frustrated is not going to help my anxiety.Breathe, Gracie. You need to calm down and breathe.It’s not working. I need help. I know Ash hates me. I doubt he will help. Grabbing my chest and gasping for air, I look up.
Before I can ask any questions or for help, he turns to leave, nodding his head at some of his teammates.
Falling onto my knees, I dig into the dirt, praying the cool earth will be enough to help snap me out of this attack. I guess that was too much to hope for because now I'm right where they wanted me—bowing at their feet.
Working on composing myself and trying to take small even breaths, I don't notice that the group has disbanded, leaving just a few stragglers behind until it's too late.
Fingers dig into my hair and yank hard. This may have been a punishment, but unbeknownst to the person behind me, that small bit of pain is what finally snaps me back from the brink of fainting.
“Thank you, I was about to pass out,” I tell whoever is there. My vision is still a tad blurry.
“Wow, she really is damaged, isn't she?” someone cackles.
That voice. Bianca. Great, just what I need right now. I feel exhausted and really gross. I just want to shower and go to bed. This has been the longest day ever.
“It's kind of fucking pathetic to thank someone when they are trying to hurt you. What are you, a masochist? Does poor innocent little Gracelyn Rose have a secret kink? Are you into BDSM, Gracie?” she taunts while her remaining posse laughs.
“Not sure what that is, but I am thankful to whoever helped me. I couldn't breathe. Maybe being polite is something you don't know how to be?” That did it. I should have seen the slap coming.
“Whatever. Guys, she's all yours. I have shit to do. Have fun,” Bianca says, in a high-pitched girly voice, before walking away, tossing her long blonde hair behind her as she goes.
Could she be any more of a cliche? Blonde hair as if spun from gold, sun-kissed skin, dark blue eyes. Not to mention her perfect figure.
While I’m skinny, she has that whole Jessica Rabbit thing going for her. I guess I can see why she's so popular, but her appearance doesn't make up for her personality.
Coming out of the shock from my attack and that slap, I look around. Oh, no, this isn't good. Now that I can see clearly, I notice four guys from the football team wearing creepy grins with a little sparkle in their eyes.
“Oh, we will.” I hear one of them mutter under their breath, causing the others’ grins to widen.
Rushing to get to my feet so I can make a run for it, I'm reminded that someone is still gripping my hair. I don't think I can get out of their hold without losing some strands.
“Ouch, please, you're hurting me,” I whimper. One of these guys has to have a heart, right? I mean, they can't all be sadistic assholes.
“Oh no, Bambi, we haven't even begun to cause you pain,” the guy behind me states, pulling a little harder on my scalp. I scream. I mean, what else is there to do? I try to kick, but one of the other guys grabs my legs. I try smacking and clawing, but I can't reach anyone.
Feeling hands grip my wrists together, I wince from the strength they are using.
One slaps me hard across the face, and I see white spots. Someone else grips my cheeks with their sweaty hands, covering my mouth and nose, preventing anything more than a whimper from escaping.
Why do these guys have such gross hands? Bile rises at the thought of them not washing their hands. I fight harder, making muffled noises around his palm. I hear them laughing.
