by B. B. Reid
“A few days. She’ll be the belle of the ball.”
Ball? I was going to a ball? I stared at Angel for answers but found none. I didn’t know how I felt about wearing his mother’s dress or going to a ball for that matter. Once again, he strayed from the script. I was his prisoner, and he was my captor. Music, dancing, and glass slippers didn’t fit into our world.
Chapter Thirty-One
Shotgun!
ANGEL
Three Years Ago
I needed more than just a cold shower after what had happened. I pulled on basketball shorts and left my damp chest bare after stepping from the bathroom. The hall was clear, and there was not a sound to be heard, but I knew Mian was nearby. She wasn’t allowed to leave without me unless she was heading to school. In my room, I turned up Korn’s ‘Coming Undone’ and lit up. Smoke billowed and the scent of a bad habit permeated the air. It only took a couple of pulls for me to mellow into a safe zone.
I almost kissed her.
I had been willing to welcome insanity just for one taste of her.
Damn.
She wanted to bust my balls, and in retaliation, I practically molested her. I wasn’t proud of myself but damn if I didn’t want to do it again.
My dick was already on the rise thinking about it, so I took another hard pull and exhaled sharply through my nose. A knock on the door had the rest of my body stiffening along with my dick. It could only be one person.
“What?”
“Can I come in?”
I hesitated. Her voice was low and light. She at my door tempted me, but I wasn’t eager to poke the beast. She never came to my room. Even when we stopped snapping at each other, we still avoided each other.
“Why the fuck not?” I growled. The door pushed open, and her eyes found me lounging against my headboard. “What?”
“I wanted to talk to you.” She licked her lips—her signature sign that she was nervous—before wrinkling her nose at the thick smoke. “You really shouldn’t smoke weed.”
“Because it’s bad for me?” I mocked. She rolled her eyes.
“Because you’re bad enough,” she countered.
“Not true. I can always do worse.” I winked.
Such a simple gesture made her freeze like a baby deer caught in a truck’s headlights yet my intimidation tactics that folded grown men didn’t faze her.
She huffed and mumbled, “I wanted to apologize.”
My eyebrow lifted. “For what?”
“For trying to knee you in the balls.” I stopped myself from laughing. It was undeniable that I deserved it. I had no business touching her the way I had. Why couldn’t she see that? I know she’s only sixteen, but innocence only stretched so far.
“It’s cool, Sprite. You couldn’t hurt a fly.” I fit the blunt between my lips, watching her as she watched me inhale.
“Is it really worth it?”
“What?” I knew what.
“Smoking weed. Getting high?”
I stared, and she stared back. Making a decision, I sat up against my headboard and while holding her gaze, patted the bed beside me. “Come here.” She took a step closer to the door, and I bit back a curse. “Come here, girl. I don’t bite.”
But I might if you beg me.
She looked like she was having the same thought because her head tilted warily.
“I want to show you something.”
I knew the exact moment she gave in. Her eyes were so damn expressive. I wondered what side of Mian I’d see when her guard was down.
She crawled to the spot I designated for her, and she watched me take a pull. Without warning, I turned my face and blew the smoke in hers. She coughed and sputtered and waved her hands furiously to fight the thin cloud of smoke.
“Why,” she coughed, “did you do that?”
I smiled, and she seemed to forget all about her coughing fit. “Open your mouth.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you to.”
She frowned. Deeply. And then she did as I asked and parted her lips and I knew… I just knew… if I licked, and kissed, and sucked them between my own, they would taste sweet.
I pulled on the blunt again, and this time, I exhaled slowly and blew the smoke between her lips. She coughed again, but this time, her eyes watered as she stared at me alarmed.
“Again?” She looked unsure, so I decided for her. “Again.” Surprisingly, she opened her lips without direction. I leaned in closer until our lips almost touched. “This time I want you to inhale,” I spoke directly in her mouth. “Ready?” Her eyes widened, but she nodded, closed her eyes, and waited expectantly.
I inhaled from the blunt and moved closer until my left hip touched her right, and my top lip brushed hers. When she shivered, I exhaled. She inhaled and coughed, but it wasn’t violent like before. Her eyes were glassy and dilated when they opened, and she seemed to sway.
“Feel good?” I whispered against her lips. She nodded, her forehead rubbing against mine. “Want another?”
She hesitated even though I had already seen the curiosity in her eyes. “Yes, please.”
I smiled to keep her focus from my dick growing in my shorts. I wanted another brush of her lips. “Good girl.” I took another pull, and she opened up for me. She took the shotgun more smoothly this time, and I gave her two more shots before deciding she’d had enough. I stubbed out the lit end and placed the rest of the blunt on my nightstand.
“We aren’t going to finish it?”
I chuckled and turned back to face her. “Look who’s addicted.” She giggled and swayed into my chest, so the only natural thing was for me to run my fingers through her hair… Right?
“You have really pretty eyes.”
I jerked and blinked. “What?”
“Your eyes… they’re really pretty. You’re pretty.” She laughed some more, sighed like she was relieved she’d said it, and then froze… with her gaze on my lips.
“Sprite?” She leaned in closer and rested her hand on my chest that I now remembered was bare. I liked how it felt. Her hand was small and warm on my hard chest, and I wondered if she could feel my heart fighting to free itself from its cage.
“Your skin is so hot.”
Her attention had been on my chest, but when she looked up with wide, bright eyes, I was hit with the force of her innocence. I couldn’t do this. I threw myself away from her and exploded. “Damn it, Sprite!”
“What?” She genuinely appeared confused which only pissed me off more. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re sixteen .” I stressed her age for my benefit as well as hers.
“I know.” She scooted closer and rose up to her knees.
“I’m twenty-two goddamn years old.”
Again… for my benefit.
“I know.”
“I’m a grown man. You’re a child.”
“I know.”
“You know? You know ?” She flinched when my volume rose. I didn’t let up. I needed to scare her to stay away from me. Getting close had been a mistake that I was now forced to rectify. She nodded but didn’t lose the look in her eyes, and I felt the grip on my will slip. “So what would it make me?”
She whimpered. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It fucking does, so say it? What does it make me if I gave you what you’re begging for and kissed you right now?”
She was reluctant, but she knew the truth, so I waited. “A…A…A pervert.” Her eyes flowed when she admitted it as if the thought of my perverseness turned her on more.
Fuck no.
“That’s right, but more than that, it would make me a goddamn pedophile.”
She blinked, and I watched her process it, but then she did something that fucked my whole world up. She slipped her arms around me and whispered in my ear, “I don’t care.”
I pul
led back, but that was a mistake because it only gave her access. Her lips touched mine, and she sighed again. “I’ve never been kissed.” She moved closer until she was practically on my lap. “Kiss me.”
I opened my mouth to deny her, but she didn’t wait around to hear it. Pressing her lips against mine, she explored by brushing her lips against mine. “Baby… no.”
I wrapped my arms around her waist to move her away. I really did. But then I felt her tongue shyly prying for entrance and I was screwed.
With a groan she swallowed, I gave up the fight. Gripping the back of her neck, I pressed my lips against hers and had my first taste of Mian Ross. It lasted only a second because we both froze at the sound of our fathers calling our names.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Blood looks good on you.
MIAN
Present
No one came or went for three days.
I figured out his intention the very first day and laughed. It was clear Angel hadn’t done his homework. Starvation became a close friend of mine months ago. Sometimes ensuring Caylen was clothed, fed, and in perfect health meant having nothing left after. Most of my meals came from the mercy of the restaurants where I waitressed.
My body jerked from the cold, but I had little energy to shake it free. My prison became a winter wonderland without the wonder. The temperature in my room dropped steadily every day until I had only the chatter of my teeth to keep me company. There were no clothes to ward off the chill and no blankets to bundle under. He didn’t even leave behind the damn curtains. Angel had thought of everything it seemed.
Curled on top of the plush carpet, I plotted my revenge. I pushed aside everything I loved and filled my heart with hate. The ball, the gown, legacies, and Knights consumed me. He’d be back.
He always came back.
* * *
I was breaking free.
Two days ago, I started to hear my son’s cries. The lucid part of my brain argued that it was a hallucination. The desperate part of me only cared that he was close.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I sent the chair flying. It bounced, anticlimactically, off the window and fell to the floor. The sound it made when it hit the window was loud. I picked it up again and ignoring the double vision and trembling muscles, sent it forward with a little more force. The window cracked, but it was the noise I cared about. Even if I broke the window, it was at least a thirty-foot drop to a stone bed.
I gripped the arms of the heavy chair, but my ears perked when I heard the sound of footsteps rushing closer. I waited, timing the footsteps. I listened to the lock turn. As soon as the door flew open, I hoisted the chair in the air, but before I could send it flying, I felt his harsh grip on my arm.
He tore the chair from my grip, which sent me spilling forward. The chair crashed to the ground, and then he growled. “What are you—”
I didn’t give him the chance to finish. The path to the door was clear. Jumping to my feet, I sprinted for the door. I expected his hands on me any second. I expected to be dragged back by my hair and threatened. When I made it through the door, I ran faster .
I fell into the first door and tried the knob. I couldn’t leave without him even if it meant getting caught. When the knob twisted, I threw it open.
Empty.
There was no sign of Angel when I glanced behind me. Hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Where was he?
I tried another handle, which turned out to be Angel’s old bedroom and found it empty.
I knew from when I robbed the place there were only three rooms on this wing.
Maybe I had been hallucinating…
I fought a wave of nausea and rushed for the east wing.
Make a sound, baby boy.
“You’re making this fun for me.”
I stopped cold at the sound of his voice. I expected to see him standing behind me when I turned, but I was still alone. Taking a deep breath, I ran to the room I knew Angel kept Caylen. It was locked.
“Breaking someone already weak isn’t much of a challenge.” His voice was back to send chills down my spine. “You’re giving me a reason to do my best.”
This time, I noticed his voice seemed omnipresent and realized he must have been speaking through an intercom. “I got out, and I’m leaving with my son . You’re not exactly winning awards.” I threw my shoulder into the door, but it was weak. Suddenly, Caylen’s cry broke from the other side.
Angel’s chuckle was chilling, but I made myself ignore it. “You haven’t eaten in five days. You couldn’t even break that door down at full strength.”
He was watching me?
I looked around for a camera but found none. I threw my shoulder into the door again but had to grip the handle to keep from crumbling to the floor when my legs gave out. Caylen’s cries were louder now and my desperation to get to him grew.
“Return to your room, and I’ll forgive you.”
I chuckled and then blinked to clear another wave of double vision. “And if I don’t?” I tried to sound strong, but five days without food had taken a bigger toll on me than I had expected.
“I’ll punish you. Personally and painfully.” His voice was deeper. His mood was pitch black.
“As exciting as that sounds, I’ll have to decline.” I pushed myself up from the floor and took slow, shaky steps to the stairs. My body was fighting to give up, but my mind wouldn’t take the hint.
Downstairs, I searched the kitchen for something useful to pick the lock or pry the door open. I grabbed the biggest kitchen knife I could find and then stumbled my way down a short, dark hallway. I found a single door and quickly pushed it open before I lost my nerve. I blindly slid my hand along the side wall in search of a light switch. When my fingers moved over the panel, I hurriedly switched it on.
The room turned out to be a garage, and after a quick search in the corners, I found no boogeyman lurking. A black Suburban, black BMW, and sick looking red and black bike filled up three of the spaces, leaving an empty space near the furthest wall. On the far wall was a red, metal chest that stood as tall as I was. I stepped onto the cold concrete and ignored the chill and roughness on my bare feet. Searching through the treasure chest of tools, I found a tension wrench and pick. I peeked around every corner as I made my way back upstairs.
Angel could have stopped me at any time. Instead, he once again used me for his amusement.
When I broke out of here, the joke would be on him.
I laid the knife close to me and set to work picking the lock. When the lock gave, I picked the knife from the floor and rushed inside. Like before the room was clean and simple. I was relieved to find the room warm. I only hoped he hadn’t chosen to starve him, too.
Caylen looked healthy with the rail under his tiny fists to hold him up while fat tears rolled down his face. My heart was pounding fast when I surged forward. I had my hands out ready to grab him from his prison when I was suddenly lifted into the air and drawn away.
“No!” My scream of frustration would have been heard by neighbors if the fucker had any. Caylen was screaming at the tops of his lungs, but his cries were broken now from overuse. I fought and kicked and even bit Angel’s fingers when he made the mistake of trying to silence me with a hand over my mouth. When he didn’t release me, I remembered the knife and awkwardly slashed at his forearm. Angel grunted from the pain, and after ripping the knife from my hand, he flung me across the room. I hit the wall hard and fell to the ground. When my body settled, I rejected the beckon of unconsciousness and found Angel standing a few feet away. His chest heaved up and down as he stared down at me with malice in his eyes. Blood trailed down his muscular arm and stained the plush carpet beneath us.
He didn’t seem to notice as he glared down at me. He looked ready to kill me. I searched for the knife and found the stained blade lying on the other side of the room. I would have to get p
ast him, which would never happen, so I eyed the distance to the open door and realized I could make it out. I could run.
Of all the chances, it was the only one I really had.
But I couldn’t leave my son.
“Now would be the time to beg.”
I pushed myself up to sit on my ass and curled my knees against my chest. I fought, and I lost, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t fight again. Next time, I wouldn’t stop until he was dead. A smile crept up on my face, and I finally met his gaze. He was the one that fucked up.
“I won’t beg. I will never beg.”
“We’ll see about that.”
He stalked forward, and I discreetly moved to back away, but the unmoving wall he'd thrown me into earlier stopped me from going far. When he leaned down to grab me, I ducked his hand, but he caught me anyway and tugged me up by my hair instead of my throat where he first aimed. I cried out, but it was cut short when he swiped a finger through the blood on his arm. He held up his bloodied fingers for me to see.
“How does it feel to draw my blood?”
“Like I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.”
He chuckled. “Would it be wise for me to believe you?”
“Give me the knife back and let’s find out.” I’ll cut your throat this time.
“Hmm,” he quietly said while staring into my eyes. God, I hated when he did that.
“Well?” I prompted. My eyebrow lifted when he didn’t answer immediately.
“Well…” he said and then brought his finger closer to my face. I cringed when he lightly trailed his bloody finger across my cheek. “…I think my blood looks better on you.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Because bad ideas are what I’m good at.
ANGEL
“We leave for a few hours, and you start World War Three,” Lucas accused. Z laughed while he bandaged my arm.
I look up from pouring the much-needed whiskey to meet Lucas’s angry gaze. “I didn’t start it.”
“Then how did she get out or even far enough to get a goddamn kitchen knife?”
