He lifted me off the counter and, uncharacteristically gentle, laid me beneath him on the cold kitchen laminate. A glimpse of red caught my eye; and I immediately tried to scoot out from underneath him.
"Morgana," he sighed, quickly pinning me with his weight. With a purposeful slowness, he placed the kitchen knife beside us before grabbing my hands and holding them above my head.
"Jules, get off." Immobilized, I glared up at him. My chest was heaving, my heart racing inside it. He looked down at me with a tender expression on his face.
"I'm not going to kill you." He almost sounded hurt. I never voiced my fear aloud, but I didn't need to. Most of the time, Julian knew what I was thinking before I'd figured it out for myself.
Honestly, it was terrifying how in tune he was with me, and I just as in harmony with him, knowing when he was upset, happy, or in distress.
It's what made me able to avoid the harsher treatment I knew he was capable of.
"Are we going to play this game, Dollface? Are you going to fight me and pretend your pussy isn't so wet that I can't see my reflection between your thighs?"
"Julian, stop." He ignored me, leaning down to place a kiss on my lips. Unable to move, I bit down on his bottom brim until I tasted blood. He made a sound, and then I realized he was laughing.
Keeping my hands pinned with one of his, he brought two fingers to his lower lip, a look of amusement flashing across his face.
"That wasn't nice." He clucked his tongue and flipped me onto my stomach.
The shirt was a trivial barrier between us; it did nothing to prevent him from pushing inside me. My hands slipped on the floor, causing me to lurch forward.
Julian grabbed a fistful of hair and gripped my left hip to keep me in place. I whimpered at the overwhelming sensation of his intrusion. Squeezing my eyes shut, I knew he had won before the war even started.
"Do you want to tell me how much you don't like this?" He leaned forward, resting his solid chest against my back, pushing himself deeper to whisper in my ear. He rolled his hips, eliciting a soft moan from my mouth.
"Answer me." He bit down on my earlobe and nuzzled my cheek.
"I don't know," I couldn't focus on what he wanted me to say, not with him rocking inside me. He made a humming sound in his throat, reaching for something I couldn't see.
"Julian?" The hand in my hair slipped down to grasp the back of my neck, holding me in a reverse choke hold. My back arched involuntarily as he shoved my cheek to the floor.
With my ass nearly resting on his thighs, his cock buried inside me, he drew the knife in a straight line across my skin.
"Fuck you," I hissed, feeling blood stream down my left globe.
"I think I'm the one fucking you." He cut me again, right below the first incision, starting to thrust at a rapid pace. My hands slipped again, unable to hold myself up.
Julian receded, only to flip me around, wrench my legs apart, and slam back inside me.
A gasp tore from my throat, moans and whimpers following. The knife he had placed in his mouth was brought down again, the serrated blade easily splitting open the smooth skin beneath my right breast. I couldn't overcome the dizzying amount of pleasure I got from the electrifying pain.
I found myself further spreading my legs, encouraging him to go deeper. Julian placed the bloody knife between his teeth, eagerly obliging. Running my hands up his muscular arms, I gripped his shoulders, digging in hard enough to break the skin.
The harder he fucked me, the more I dug. It didn't matter that his brothers were somewhere in the house, no doubt hearing us. Our eyes locked; he trapped me with his gaze.
With our bodies molded together, he slowly removed the knife from his mouth to continue his gentle assault. Every few seconds, another laceration was made.
Sliding around on the floor, my moans drowning out his soft grunts, and sweat dripping from his body onto mine? I watched his muscles flex as he drilled into me.
"Now, tell me."
"I like it." The words tasted like poison. He made me tell him again and again.
I wanted to be normal. I didn't want to be the woman turned on while her husband held her down on the kitchen floor and dragged a knife across her skin. Pleasure and pain bled together, feeding a sickness that I wanted to be cured of.
I came chanting his name, raking my nails down his broad back. My toes curled from the inferno that pervaded my body. Julian buried himself to the hilt, spilling his come inside me.
"I'm going to get pregnant," I gasped, trying to catch my breath.
"That's the point." He ran a finger down my cheek, a devious grin on his face.
Chapter Thirty-Two
At three-thirty in the afternoon, I still hadn't gotten out of bed. If it wasn't for someone knocking on the door, I might not have.
Rolling from beneath the comforter, I snagged my semi-clean denim shorts off the toilet and wriggled into them. My reflection drew my attention to the bathroom mirror. I looked as bedraggled as I felt.
Swiping my fingers through my hair, I padded to the door, peeking through the peephole to see who was on the other side. Kieran. Figured.
Pressing my forehead to the wood, I willed him to go away. He had to have some type of police duty to run off and do. Unless I was considered police duty.
"I know you're in there Morgana. I'm not leaving until you open the door.”
"Dammit," I cursed him for making a scene. Unlocking the door, I pulled it open with much more force than necessary. Kieran stood with a bag in one hand, coffee cup in the other.
"You said you'd leave me alone."
"You're right, but I also said after I buy you food, not how much. And look, I've got food." He held up the white bag and gently shook it. I wanted to slam the door in his smug face, but whatever was in the bag would likely be my last meal until I scoured up some cash.
Check-out was tomorrow. It was either pay up or sleep in the car, which wasn't that bad an idea if I could find somewhere to park the damn thing without risking a tow.
Don't trust him, my consciousness warned, summing Kieran up as a threat. It was my typical reaction to people. Paranoia that everyone somehow knew Julian festered in the back of my mind. Every friendly smile hid something underneath. All good deeds had another a hidden agenda.
"Is there a reason why?" Cocking my head to the side, I studied him, no longer caring about my appearance. I wanted him to think I was a stuck-up bitch. Being around me wasn't a smart option for anyone.
"I thought you might like to know the diner is hiring, and seeing as you live in a motel..."
His voice trailed off when he saw the discomfort about the prospect of that flash across my face.
Be around people? Interacting all day?
I needed a job, yes, But I wasn’t sure how wise it was for me to stay in this town, or how I was going to manage working.
"Is there a late-night shift by chance?"
He didn't bat an eyelid at my request. "They're open twenty-four hours. If you want the graveyard shift, I can help make it yours."
"I have to think about—" Kieran's cell phone started ringing, making me pause. A dark look came over his face as he glanced at the screen.
"I have to take this; go to the diner and talk to Dakota." His silver eyes flashed to mine; the white bag and coffee were shoved towards me. The second they were both securely in my hands, he was walking away.
As I sat on my bed in nothing but my shorts and bra, I held a lighter to my recent cuts and let them burn.
Hissing in pain but never stopping, only the telephone ringing jolted me out of my haze enough that the smell—and the sight—of burned flesh had me dropping the lighter to the floor.
Ignoring the phone, I put my head in my hands, taking even breaths.
This feeling sorry for myself bullshit was making me sick. There was too much self-hate and too little self-control. The solution to my problems was the problem I had run from.
It was tempting to walk back into Hell
to gain a small piece of sanity, but then I would remind myself who I was—who Julian was. I remembered that was the place my sister brutally lost her life.
And I had to ask myself, what kind of life would our child have? They couldn't grow up in the Chateau. Dahlia could never be part of their life.
I glanced over at the alarm clock. It was three in the morning, and I had no desire to sleep. Remembering Kieran saying that the diner was open twenty-four hours, I hopped off the bed and readied myself to leave.
Just like the night Kieran walked me back to my room, everything was quiet. I was relieved when I found the diner was near desolate. One lone male sat at the counter, sipping what I assumed was coffee.
Checking to make sure my burns and cuts were covered; I crossed the street.
"I'll be right with you," a soft voice called out from somewhere in the back.
Not responding, I glanced around the retro establishment, fighting the desire to turn around and leave. I dug my nails into my palms and ignored the bubbling anxiety as best I could.
A picture hanging on the back wall grabbed my attention. Using it as a temporary distraction, I walked to where it hung.
The date at the bottom was eighteen years ago. A group of seven girls and three boys stood smiling in front of this very diner, all dressed in what had to have been the old uniform.
Three younger women drew my interest. One had chocolate brown hair and a face that could have been mine. The longer I stared at her, the more unnerved I became.
It’s just a picture.
That explanation would have killed my conspiracy theories before they started, but then I scanned the names. Julie Sanchez, Helga Andreou, Lacy Tidwell. When I swallowed, it felt like grains of sand were sliding down my throat.
"Hey." A small hand landed on my shoulder, breaking my concentration, and causing me to damn near jump out of my skin.
The girl must have sensed my blaring discomfort because she took a huge step back and still gave me a welcoming smile. She had large brown eyes, freckles, and espresso brown hair. I was looking at the real-life definition of small-town beauty queen.
"I didn't mean to scare you. I'm Dakota. You must be Morgana." It wasn't a stretch to figure out how she knew my name. Small-town gossip was fed through a grapevine, and I was certain Kieran had had a hand in it.
"Yeah, that's me." Could this situation get any more uncomfortable? Dakota stood beaming at me like I was her long-lost best friend.
"God, you probably think I'm so weird. There's not a ton of girls my age left in town. After high-school, they all hit the road." I could relate to that scenario, though, unlike Redwood, Riverview seemed to be a hotspot for tourists.
"I get it." I felt myself slowly start to relax and fought the urge to loudly exhale in relief. Glancing around the diner, I still wasn't set on the idea of working somewhere like this.
Even the midnight shift could lead to me being discovered.
That was a bigger problem than my social issues. The picture behind me solidified the fact Julian's family had ties here, as did mine.
If Julian just happened to be one of those people stopping in, I'd have a room full of people to witness me lose my shit. It burned me from the inside out to have a man controlling my life.
Seriously, fuck him for not choosing someone else to torment. It wasn't fair to play mind games with someone whose mind was never there.
Realizing an elongated amount of time had passed with me zoning out in front of Dakota, I shook my head and forced a smile. "Can I give you an answer tomorrow?"
"Sure, there's no rush."
I was thanking her and walking away before the last word fell from her mouth. Who was I kidding? It was hard enough to stand outside and look through the window.
Did I honestly believe I could put on a happy face and interact with multiple individuals?
My irrational fears, and my inability to fight off an invisible opponent, had become a crippling burden. I truly was my own worst enemy.
I didn't want to die, but I wished I could fall asleep and never wake up until all was well. I would be normal. I'd be strong. More importantly, I'd be able to stomach the girl I saw every time I looked in the mirror.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I went back to the library as soon as they were open, slinking out of my room on the sly.
A woman was reading in an oversized chair, and the librarian was busy putting books back on shelves. Wandering to the public computers, I sat in a position that allowed me to watch the room. I had a reason for returning, but first, I looked up whether mental illness was genetic.
All I found out was that it could carry, but just because one parent had it, didn't mean the baby would. None of this information was particularly helpful.
I wasn’t entirely sure what Julian, or I truly suffered from.
Irritated and more than a little concerned, I hit the back arrow to the main screen. When I searched again, I looked up Lacy Tidwell Redwood.
There was only one direct result, an alumni site for the Redwood Cardinals cheer team.
I stared at the names with the same sick feeling I'd had at the diner. My mother's name, Julian's mom's name, and Lacy Tidwell all sprang off the screen at me. There was either a connection between the three, or I was going down a dead-end trail. No matter, something compelled me to find out who the woman was that looked identical to me.
After about a dozen attempts to access Lacy's bio page, the server kicked me off and sent me back to the main web browser. Confused, I tried again, but the same thing happened. I was ready to take a different approach, but then awareness set in.
Someone was watching me.
I looked away from the screen to see Dakota slipped around me with a sneaky smile on her face.
"If you wanted info on Lacy, all you had to do was ask," she said, twirling a dark strand of hair around her finger.
"I don't know—"
"What I'm talking about? Look, I see you have this standoffish thing. Probably don't trust me for the shit, but I'm not out to do whatever it is you think I'm trying to do."
I ignored her, wondering just how much she’d seen. "What do you know about her?" This would either backfire in my face or help me, but I had to do something besides mutilate my body.
"You're gonna have to put your big girl panties on and come to my house. We can't talk here." She crossed her arms and gave me a smug smile.
I pushed away from the computer, refusing to partake in whatever game she was trying to play.
"Let me help you. I know you're from Riverview," she confessed loudly, drawing the other library patrons’ attention straight to us.
Muttering under my breath, I did something I never do; I grabbed her by the arm and hauled her towards the exit. She came willingly enough. When we got outside, I nearly shoved her across the sidewalk.
"How did you know that? Who are you?" I whispered harshly, ready to pounce on her if need be.
"You think you're the first girl to run here? I know all about those psychos in the big house. The Andreous? This might as well be their town, too." She spat Julian's surname out with venom.
"How do you know about the Dahlia?" I eyed her suspiciously.
"My sister and two of her friends drove out there to see if the rumors were true. Haven’t seen or heard from her since." She fingered the ring hanging from a silver chain around her neck. I swallowed, bringing my hand to my own, where Penny's necklace now hung.
"And my dad's a cop," she added when I still didn't respond. A multitude of additional questions attacked my brain.
“Okay.” I nodded, deciding to believe her. "Take me to your house."
I knelt in her living room, watching her fingers fly over the keyboard of a silver laptop.
"How do you know what I’m looking for?"
"I’m just showing you what I’ve found before. It’s a small town, I had to find a way to feed my inner geek." After another few minutes, she looked at me with a bright smile, leaning to th
e side so I could see the screen.
Lacy's bio was pulled up, fully intact. A picture of her stared back at us. I leaned forward, staring at a face that looked too much like mine. Was this more of my crazy? Or was it what it appeared to be?
Dakota didn't say a word; she sat on the couch with her hands resting in her lap. I began to read, eating the words with my eyes. Lacy Tidwell, an honor student who was on the cheer team, lived in town with her grandmother, Frida Tidwell.
"What do you know about her?" I looked over at Dakota, then back at the screen.
"Only what I've heard whispered around here, and what my dads’ told me. She was well liked, outgoing, smart. She disappeared for a while after running off with her boyfriend.
"Cops found her in another town and brought her back here. Nobody really says much. Everything went back to normal. She was known as a whore after that, kept to herself. The whole thing was way before my time, so…" She shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Something wiggled at the back of my brain, trying to tell me more. I stopped trying to grasp what it was when I read that she dated a football player named Philip.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I clutched the glass in my hands so tightly it changed the pigmentation of my skin. I'd never been as lost as I felt then.
Everything in my life was going downhill. I had no reason to believe my mother wasn’t my mother.
Until now.
Seemed no matter what I did I couldn’t get a break from this endless cycle of questions. It never stopped; I couldn't run from the things inside my head.
"I was told to give you this." A black dahlia was thrust into my line of sight.
I blinked rapidly, staring from the flower to the face of the older librarian. Dakota paused on her way to refill a man’s coffee, watching us closely.
“By who?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
The woman nodded her head towards the window. A cold sweat broke out at the base of my neck as I turned my head to look out the window. Sure enough, a dark cherry Barracuda was parked across the street.
Malice (Dahlia Saga Book 1) Page 12
