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It was the wrong thing to say, especially when he hauls me over his shoulder, manhandling me down the hall and up a flight of stairs to a door that leaks an awfully familiar smell.
“If you want me to sleep with you,” I nearly cry, freaking out that Van might not be the man I knew, “you’ll have to force me.”
“Don’t worry, Flower. I’m not interested in your body. I’m only interested in your pain.”
He kicks open the door, revealing a king-sized bed with black sheets and sunflowers on the nightstand.
“My wife,” he says flatly, like the term is a curse, “sleeps in her husband’s bed by commitment, not by force.”
Putting me down, he turns me to face him. “You vowed to love and honor, and you will do so until death do us part.”
Van
I saw the fear in her eyes, and I enjoyed every fucking second of it.
Then she ran, and that enjoyment turned into a passionate obsession. I love when her bravery fades and survival kicks in. Reese Carmichael knows I’m no typical man. I won’t love her tenderly and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. I am the man who will consume her until she’s nothing but a beautiful memory.
She’s always been mine to ruin and love as violently as the flames that dance between my fingers.
“I want to turn myself in!”
I find a smile as I chase her through the darkened halls of my home, the only light cascading from my lit match. She’s made the rookie mistake of wanting to play hide-and-seek, so like the generous host I am, I indulge her.
“It’s too late, darling. Just because you don’t find the atmosphere suitable doesn’t mean you get to back out of our deal.”
Her voice breaks, meaning she’s on the verge of tears, as she stumbles, steadying herself on the wall. “Why? Why me, Van? Why would you punish me before him?”
It’s the first time she’s acknowledged the man she was supposed to hand over. The man who started all of this, the man who created me and made me the monster I am today. He’s one of the few left on my list to destroy.
“Because you failed to deliver, love,” I voice, holding the match high enough that I see her golden hair whipping as she runs from me. I haven’t cared to run after her. She knows she won’t escape my wrath. She will endure it until her end.
“I didn’t fail! I had him.” She cries, slowing to a stop. “You know I wanted him to suffer just as much as you did.”
“And yet,” I round her front, get directly in her face, and find her dry cheeks with the light from my flame, “you let him disappear.” Tsking, I add, “But I found you.”
“That’s because I wasn’t hiding, dickbag!” She struggles against me, and I can feel my cock thicken, hardening against her stomach.
“Tell me,” I say, grinding my hard cock into her, “was it always your plan to turn me in?”
This woman has always been able to pull the emotions from me. Deep-seated emotions that I thought had burned with my mother.
I didn’t want a sunflower. They didn’t exist in people, as my mother believed. No one could balance the light and the dark other than a flower.
“Stop struggling.”
Her body seemingly molds to mine. “Look at my hands,” she pleads.
“I’ll pass,” I say. “Now, answer the question.”
She has a twitchy palm, and I’m in no mood for the sting on my cheek.
“Only if you answer a question of mine,” she counters.
Any other time, I would say no, but I’m desperate when it comes to information about the man I need to destroy. More than that, I’m desperate to know if it was always her plan to betray me.
“What?”
“Did you follow me here to Georgia?” I hold there, shocked that she would ask that particular question.
