“You have nothing to lose, huh?” my father notes. “It doesn’t seem that way. Weaseling your way into the Jacobs’s house. You must like seeing that pretty little thing every morning, noon, and night, don’t you?”
I shake my head, but the rage inside me continues to stir. “What are you talking about?”
“The Jacobs girl. You know, I could have her picked up in a squad car one day—”
“That was Jessa’s best friend, you sick fuck,” I growl.
“I’m not finished,” he tells me with a satisfiedly placid look on his face. “I could have her picked up in a squad car one day. Bring her back to the station, and throw her in a cell, or a room just like this one. See who’s interested. Maybe if she’s a real bad girl I’ll throw her in with some of the inmates—”
“Shut the fuck up about her,” I mutter. My hands may still be cuffed behind my back, but it’s as sure a warning as I’ve ever given.
“What’s her name? Oh, that’s right.” He grins. “Windy.”
I don’t wait for another word. I lean forward and bum rush him before he has a chance to react, my shoulder connecting with his stomach to knock the wind out of him with a satisfying crunch. I keep coming forward, pushing him into the wall and knocking my shoulder into him again and again as he struggles to ward me off. If I had the use of my hands, he would be in for an even worse world of pain.
He manages to sidestep me, and he knocks me to the floor again, placing his foot on top of my chest to keep me still. “That’s what I thought,” he mutters, gazing down at me with a serious stare. “Think about that next time you want to tell me you have nothing to lose. If you want her to stay young and pretty, and not dead and missing, you’ll start acting right. And stay the fuck away from the house, understood?”
I don’t answer, and he pushes down harder with his foot until I nearly can’t breathe. “Yes,” I manage between clenched teeth.
“Yes, what?” he taunts me, waving his fingers for me to say it. “Come on, I know they’ve must’ve taught you this one at the academy.”
“Yes, sir,” I respond, wanting to add so much more. That he can go fuck himself, that he can go to hell, that he can eat shit and die. That I’ll fucking kill him if he or any of his goon squad ever lays a hand on Windy.
But it’s that exact thought that keeps me from saying anything else. I need to play nice if I plan on being able to protect her.
And my purpose in this city is far from over.
11
I’m lying in bed when a knock rings out against my door. I’ve been home for hours already, thoroughly humiliated enough to make the prospect of ditching the rest of my classes for the day a reality.
“Windy?” my mother’s voice ebbs into the room. I get up and swing the door open, trying to clear my face of the pinched look I know I’ve been wearing the entire day. I’m still tense, and it’s only been made worse by Damien’s noticeable absence.
It feels like I’ve been waiting for him to show up ever since I got home, but so far he’s been completely MIA. It’s insane how even something like that can fill me with an irrefutable tension that won’t let me concentrate on anything else but him. He’s not even fucking here.
But he’s still all I can think about.
“I noticed you didn’t come down for dinner,” Mom says, her eyes lifting curiously to my unstraightened hair. “Did you take another shower?”
“Yeah, I…” Stood under the water until it finally ran clear. Turns out the water Damien dumped on me was tinged with some sort of paint. I was lucky enough it came off, but I know the next mark he wants to leave on me will be a lot more permanent. “I wasn’t feeling well,” I continue with a convincing grimace. “I thought maybe a shower would help.”
She gives a nod, a sympathetic look washing over her face. She’s been patient with me, not suffocating the way instinct might provide. I know she worries sometimes, because losing my dad and then my best friend was like getting kicked in the chin with a steel-toed boot, not once, but twice. Since then, I’ve done the work, the therapy, the self-care, the feeling of all the feelings. I was actually in a better place up until just a few weeks ago.
“Have you seen Damien?”
Speak of the devil.
“Huh?” I utter anyways, even though I know I should have been fully expecting the question.
Of course my mom would wonder where he is. Damien has been her good little helper lately, working that innate charm the universe was flawed enough to provide him. I’m the only one cursed enough to be able to see him for what he really is. When he pulls that easy smile of his, all I see is a wicked serpent’s grin.
“Damien,” Mom repeats. “He isn’t home yet and it’s getting late. Did he mention anything, or—”
“Why would he have mentioned anything to me?” I ask in a tone that comes out sharper than I was expecting. “I haven’t seen him all day.”
Technically not true, but for the sake of keeping what happened today under lock and key, it’s important that I disassociate myself from the event as soon as possible.
“Okay,” my mother says innocently. “I just thought maybe he texted you or something.”
“Texted me?” I repeat incredulously. She doesn’t know the half of what he’s put me through, she doesn’t even have an inkling. “Mom, Damien is…”
I could tell her now, tell her everything. Make it so when he stepped out of our house this morning, it had been for the last time. I know she would believe me. But I also know it would break her heart, and confuse her. After all, things hadn’t always been like this, and the reason it’s different now is going to be Damien’s axe to swing, not mine.
“He’s more popular than me,” I continue, a lie based in the truth. “I’m sure he has plenty of people to text, but one of them isn’t me.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Mom replies, smoothing a hand over the top of my head in a comforting pat. She looks even more sympathetic than before, and I suddenly realize I’ve managed to sound more lovesick than distant.
“It’s fine,” I utter. “But you’re right, it’s late. I think I’m gonna try and get some sleep.”
She gives a nod. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
I close the door, loping back over to my bed with heavy footsteps, and an even heavier heart.
Where the hell could Damien have run off to now?
***
My eyes slide awake to a completely dark room. I may have turned off the light earlier, but I could have sworn I wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep. When sleep does come, it’s never deep, my consciousness sliding just into the background like a computer on standby. It’s because I’m constantly on edge with Damien living under the same roof with me.
That’s why I wake up when I do, sensing a shift in the energy in the room. I can’t say I haven’t been expecting it, but it still makes my heart beat faster as I watch with slitted eyes my door shifting open to let a dark figure slide into my room. It could be the devil himself, but I know it’s even worse. I know it’s Damien.
I could scream right now and fuck up his entire world. He’s quick on his toes, but not that quick, and it’s nearly amusing thinking about what his excuse would be for creeping into my room in the middle of the night.
Forget excuses. It’s the real reason for him being here that’s suddenly filled me with such a potent dread that staying still feels nearly torturous.
But I wait, pretending to be asleep as he clicks the door closed behind him and moves closer towards my bed.
Fuck.
Damien is now closer than ever to my bed, and I hold my breath, willing him to ditch whatever cruel plan he’s come to execute and just leave. Instead, my mattress shifts as he crawls into bed with me and aligns his body next to mine.
A potent rush of adrenaline rushes through my veins. I’m not dreaming. This is really happening.
I stifle a scream in my throat at the same time his hand wraps around
my mouth to keep me quiet. The ruse is over, he knows I’m not asleep anymore, which means now is my time to fight.
My hand delves under my pillow, searching for the knife I’ve stashed but coming up short. Panic washes over me, and my heart pounds faster as the telltale sound of it flicking open slices through the air near my ear.
I freeze.
Damien has gotten a hold of it before I could. With all the creeping around he’s been doing, he probably already knew it was there. Maybe he found it this morning after I gave him the perfect opportunity to go through my stuff alone. Trying to avoid him hadn’t even worked, but he still made me pay for trying.
A shiver runs down my spine as I try and anticipate the way he’s going to make me pay now.
In one swift movement, he grabs hold of the sheet covering my body and drags it away, exposing me completely. My skin reacts to the difference in temperature, lighting up with goosebumps as I struggle to maintain my composure. In only a T-shirt and underwear, I’ve never been this naked with someone before, let alone at knifepoint. It somehow feels better than it should, sinful in all the right ways, especially with Damien as my controller.
The knife glimmers in the moonlight as he lowers it towards my body. I know I should try and plead with him, but his hand is still covering my mouth.
The blade runs along my stomach with a Midas touch, as soft as a razor tracing along my skin, cold metal eliciting a shiver from me I don’t give up easily.
His silence is the most unnerving part, not even a whispered threat shared between us. We aren’t the only ones under this roof, in this house, but slowly he lifts his fingers from over my mouth like a dare.
I stay quiet until I can’t, my own gasping breath rushing from my lips as Damien’s hand slides into the waistband of my underwear at my hips. Fabric snaps across my body as the back of the knife brushes against my skin, my stomach sucking it on itself nervously as he slices off the rest of the material to expose me completely.
My cheeks flush with a vicious heat, one that makes me thankful for the dark.
I freeze as he takes hold of one of my wrists and turns my arm over, pressing something into my upturned palm.
The knife. My fingers curl over the handle instinctively. Why is he giving it to me?
He finds my wrist again, raising my hand to lift the knife towards him. My knuckles brush against his Adam’s apple as he levels the blade against his throat.
I can feel his pulse against my fingers. He’s left his fate up to me, another dare in the darkness, a silent question he’s left up to me to answer.
Do I want him to continue, or do I want him to stop? There would be no better signal than the hardened pressure of the blade.
Or the absence of it.
I lower my arm, clutching the knife firmly at my side, and a shallow breath escapes my chest as I wait for his next move.
The darkness, the silence, the chill of my exposed lower half juxtaposed against the warmth building between my legs, all of it is enough to make me nearly writhe in anticipation. It’s like he knows, and his next touch is slow, gentle enough to tease as fingers glide over the curve of my stomach and past my bellybutton.
My grip on the knife tightens. I could stop him, I tell myself, anytime I want. My chance isn’t gone.
Damien leans in closer as his hand creeps below my waist with a firmer touch, one that’s impatient but not rushed. His middle finger finds my slit, rubbing over my swollen clit before sliding down to the wetness at my center. My hips jerk in response, the rest of my body cheering him on as my mind struggles to keep up.
Just this morning, I swore I hated him. Even after we kissed, I still cursed his name as paint-tinged water ran off my body like the ultimate bad reminder. Damien is cruel, and he’s proved it time and time again.
His touch is cruel too, one finger sliding inside me to part my inner walls and move slowly in and out. My legs part instinctively, ass and thighs spreading across the cold sheet underneath me as my body begs for more. He moves his lone finger out and slides two in its place, invading me harder as my pussy stretches around his touch.
Oh fuck, I’ve never been fingered before, let alone fingered like this. This time it’s my own hand that clamps over my mouth as I stifle a whimper into my palm. He finds my g-spot, rubbing it with thick fingertips that threaten to send me into an oblivion of no return.
His pace quickens, fingers delving into me greedily as my body welcomes him in, over and over. I’m close already, but the feeling becomes nearly maddening when he takes his hand away. I know better than to take my hand away from my mouth, and I gasp against my flattened palm as the orgasm I was so close to having begins to ebb away.
Fucker.
I swallow the yelp that wants to leave my throat as his hand smacks against the engorged lips of my pussy before reaching up to pull my hand away from my mouth and replace it with his. His kiss is hard, tongue delving between my lips with a hunger to taste me, and I let him in, fingers tightening around the knife again at the same time his fingers find me again. They slide inside me, mimicking the way his tongue moves languidly against mine in a teasing, swirling dance that makes my head spin. A moan escapes my throat, permeating the silence around us, but I’m too far gone to care.
Still, something inside me chimes off with alarm bells. Is that blood I taste in his kiss?
But I almost want to come too much to care.
Damien’s movements pick up speed as we echo each other’s heavy breaths. My hand is close enough to feel the hard length of him through his pants, stiffening further against my touch. The proof that he’s turned on paired with the heat of his kiss is enough to drive me insane, and I buck against his hand as I wrap my arm around his neck to pull him close.
He lets me, shifting his body next to mine until he’s nearly on top of me, giving his arm extra room to move between my legs as his fingers pulse in and out of me at a speed meant to bring me to the edge.
My hand tightens around the knife, an empty threat for if he stops again. I know I can’t do anything if he does. All I can do is quietly beg him, lifting my knees from the bed to spread my legs wider to accommodate his touch as needy puffs of breath escape my lips.
A vibrator may be efficient, but the delayed gratification and buildup of someone else working to make me come feels like it’s a thousand times more intense.
My mind spins, even as pleasure begins to soak into my every nerve. Why is he doing this? Is this some sort of fucked up apology for what happened earlier, or is this part of my punishment? Are other Snake Eyes members poised outside my door, ready to barge in and catch me at my most vulnerable before they post it for the entire school to see?
As much as I want to give in to my own paranoid anxieties, my body refuses to cooperate. My pussy pulses, inner walls tightening around Damien’s thrusting fingers before I let go entirely, pulling myself towards him to bury my face into the fabric of the sweatshirt he’s wearing. The scent of him is amplified by the warmth of his body, and I melt against it as I begin to tremble. He pulls me closer, muffling my scream against his chest as my orgasm rockets through me like a thousand volts of electricity.
The knife falls from my hand, slipping between our bodies to hit the mattress underneath us. He shifts his fingers away as I finish, hand sliding up from between my legs to grip into the flesh at my hips. There’s something comforting in the way he holds me, and it feels so nice I can’t help but notice when he pulls it away abruptly.
I don’t let him go, not immediately, but he doesn’t leave me a choice. He pulls out of my grasp, and slips away like a shadow, so quick I’m left wondering if the entire thing was a dream.
12
It feels like I don’t sleep a wink for the rest of the night.
Eventually, the gray light of dawn begins to creep into the edges of my bedroom window. I turn over in bed and try to will myself to sleep for just a few minutes before I have to get up, but I can’t settle down
enough for that to even become the remotest possibility. I’ve been a ball of anxiety ever since Damien left my room.
It feels like he’s in trouble. I can just sense in my bones.
Further cementing my suspicions that something was definitely off are the events of earlier this morning. Last night, if you will.
Holy fucking shit.
If anything could ever feel so viscerally real and unreal at the same time, it was that whole experience.
Something cold brushes against my arm in bed.
The knife.
Apparently, I’ve just been lying here with it. It’s a miracle I didn’t stab myself at some point during the night.
Sneaking into my room, silencing me with his dangerous kiss, making me come, every part of it was enough to ensure my obsession with him continues.
My breath stills in my chest as I listen for the sound of the door next to mine opening and closing. A moment later, I hear the slightly more distant sound of the bathroom down the hall, followed by the faint sound of the shower running.
He’s getting ready, just like a normal day.
Normal day my ass.
I have to find out what last night was about, if he’ll even tell me at all.
I fly out of bed, nearly stumbling over the remnants of my torn underwear still lying on the floor. Snatching them up, it’s the first concrete proof of what happened last night, and it makes my heart pound. I shove them into the bottom of the wastebasket under my desk, and begin to pull pieces of my school uniform on one by one. It feels like I’m on total autopilot, but I can’t think of anything else but getting to Damien before my chance is gone.
The shower goes silent just as I’m pulling on my black uniform blazer, and I throw my door open, exiting my room and heading down the hall as quietly as possible. I pause in front of the bathroom door. What had my plan been, exactly? Barging in and accosting him with questions about last night while he’s still buck naked?
project Page 8
