It wasn’t there.
What the fuck?
Heather twisted until she could see the cuffs above her head, but they didn’t look the same. They were thicker, more sturdy — and definitely not safety cuffs. A chill rushed over her as she looked back at Neil. He smiled down at her, but suddenly it didn’t look charming. It looked practiced, lifeless like a frozen snapshot. “What are you doing?”
“Asking you some questions. Remember the deal, just answer honestly.” Neil traced the side of her face and she shook her head, brushing her cheek against her arm as if she could wipe away his touch. Her stomach was turning. What exactly was he in to?
“Is your name Heather Lynn Pritchett?” Neil asked, his expression placid.
Her brain slammed on the brakes as she heard her middle name from his lips, “How do you know my full name?”
“Yes or no, Heather.” Neil pinched her nipple hard and she cried out. She nodded quickly, biting her lip against the urge to cry, and then he released her. She gasped at the absence of the pain, the hum of her body’s arousal crashing back over her like the tide coming in.
Why the fuck am I so turned on? She was freaked out, she couldn’t be freaking out and turned on.
“Is your mother Patrice Lynn Pritchett?” Neil cupped her breast, his thumb lazily brushing over the nipple he’d just tortured. Her head was spinning. How the hell did he know her name? Her mom’s name? She racked her memories trying to remember if someone had said her mom’s name at the shop. No one had. And she was pretty sure she hadn’t provided her middle name to the speed dating group. “Heather.” His voice held an edge of warning, and she nodded, trying to fight the fear stirring inside her.
“And you’re a witch. A Pritchett witch.” He stated it. She nodded. At least she knew how he knew that.
“And you have a cousin, Amanda Nicole Pritchett? She lives in Hartford, Connecticut? Attended the University of Hartford?” Neil’s hand stopped moving against her skin. Heather couldn’t think clearly. The pulse between her thighs was liquid heat, her clit aching for some kind of release. This made no sense at all, she should be shouting at him to uncuff her. She should have established a safe word. Realization dawned on her and her stomach turned.
“What did you put in the wine, Neil?” Her voice was quiet.
“ANSWER ME!” He slapped her hard, her head snapping to the side. Heather kept her face turned away, tears springing to her eyes as the shock of what he’d done sank in. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him, while he viciously twisted her nipple until she arched off the bed and her arms pulled against the cuffs. He shouted at her again, “Is your cousin Amanda Nicole Pritchett?!”
“I DON’T KNOW!” She screamed at him, twisting as much as she could, but there was no escape. He released her and growled above her. The funny, sweet Neil she had met was gone. Maybe he had never existed. Because whoever was on top of her was not the guy she’d met. “Who the fuck are you?!”
“Me? Who the fuck am I?” He grabbed her chin again, holding her head in place so he could stare into her eyes. “I’m Neil Walker. I didn’t lie about that.” He was insane. She had picked someone insane. She had picked an insane guy to date, go home with, and perform a rite with so she could live, and now this guy was probably going to kill her. He must have been stalking her to know all of this. He grinned down at her, his dimples appearing, but he wasn’t cute anymore as he started talking, “And you, Heather, you’re the second cousin of Amanda Pritchett, daughter of Cassandra Pritchett, cousin to Patrice Pritchett. And Patrice is your mother.” Neil leaned over her and she hated the way her body responded to him, the way her skin lit up as he brushed his fingers up her side. “You’re really telling me you don’t know if you’re related to that cunt Amanda?”
“I have forty-two fucking cousins, Neil! No, I don’t know!” Heather jerked at the cuffs, fighting the urge to panic. She pleaded with him, “Please, Neil, uncuff me.”
“No.” His hands were on either side of her head, and he stared down at her like she was an insect that he was deciding what to do with. She felt the urge to cry but she pushed it down.
“What the fuck did you put in the wine, Neil?” Her voice came out stronger than she thought was possible, and she was proud of herself. She fought the pulse of need between her legs as he grinned down at her. He leaned back on her hips, digging in his backpack and pulling out a half-full vial of an amber colored liquid.
“I put this in your wine, Heather.” He held it above her face, and she opened her mouth to speak but he covered it, muffling her as she tried to yell at him. “Now, I’m going to tell you a story, and I don’t want you interrupting. I brought a gag if I need it but you don’t want to make me use it. So, shut up.”
He pressed harder over her mouth, and she closed her eyes to avoid the burning blue in his.
“Open your eyes and listen to me, bitch, or I’m going to hurt you.” Heather did, and he nodded, easing the pressure over her mouth. The second he released her mouth she screamed, praying that one of the neighbors she never saw nor spoke to would pay attention. His hand was back over her mouth in a second, painfully tight as he cut her off. It felt like she’d barely had time to scream at all. “You stupid slut. You stupid, fucking Pritchett bitch!”
Heather knew she was crying now, not able to avoid it as the hot tears streaked her temples and into her hair.
“You’re going to listen to me. You’re going to understand what your fucking family has done, and then you can speak. But if you try to scream again, I will make this so much worse. Nod if you understand.” His words were hot pulses of breath against her face, and she whimpered against his hand as she nodded.
“Good. Smart move, Heather.” Neil eased his grip over her mouth, but kept his hand over her lips in case she got the idea to scream again. “Eight years ago your cousin Amanda Pritchett met my roommate Kyle at a party. A regular campus party. He came home that night and couldn’t shut up about her. He was in love, he said. He couldn’t get enough of her. They went out again the next night and he showed up the next morning talking about the best sex of his life.” His grip tightened painfully on her face and she whimpered, “Two days later - he had a heart attack on the basketball court and fucking died.”
Neil’s hand slid down to her throat and tightened until her air supply cut off. She panicked, her fists clenching as the pounding of her heart took up residence behind her eyes. Neil started yelling, “I tried to help him, and the second I touched him, I knew it wasn’t natural! I KNEW IT! I could feel the magic on him. He was my best friend, I loved him like a BROTHER! He was innocent, he had done nothing wrong! NOTHING!” Heather arched her back, trying to breathe, her arms tugging sharply at the cuffs. His fingers were bruising her throat, and she couldn’t even beg him because she couldn’t make noise. He finally released her throat and she gasped for air, sobs breaking in between coughs as she stole breaths.
How many times had she told her family that it was playing with fire to be seen with the men they chose for the rite? How many times had she said they were all playing terrible odds and it was just a matter of time before they had the Salem witch trials part two, Cambridge edition? This guy had lost his best friend because of one of her selfish family members, and she almost felt pity for him. Almost.
“You -,” she swallowed against her bruised throat, her voice cracking. She understood why he hated her, hated her family. There was something she didn’t understand, “You felt magic? What do you mean? How can you even be sure -”
“I’m a warlock, Heather. If any of your witch bitch family had touched me, they would have recognized it instantly. Magic recognizes magic.” He pushed her hair away from her face and she winced, “It was a risk to go to the shop today, but I couldn’t miss the chance to look them all in the eyes. To see the evil, sadistic bitches who could sacrifice men, good men like Kyle, without blinking an eye.”
Heather laughed bitterly, “And how did you become a warlock? You’re telli
ng me you didn’t do anything to —”
His hand was in her hair, jerking her head back painfully as he hissed down at her, “I was born like this, Heather. My family has always had magic. We don’t have to sacrifice an innocent to some ancient deity to get power. You stupid slut, magic is supposed to be natural, but your family kills for it. Murders for it. The Pritchetts are pretenders. Weak imitations of real witches. My sisters could rip your one-trick-pony family to pieces. And I thought about letting them, just for a minute. Have them tear your family to pieces one by one until there wasn’t a drop of your tainted blood left alive.” He ran his thumb over her cheek and she turned her face away, “But I have a better solution.” Neil tightened his hold on her hair until she was forced to look at him again.
“Wait. Neil, wait, please. I don’t - you have a family? I thought -” For some reason her mind latched onto that fact. He wasn’t a foster kid? He wasn’t alone? He ignored her question, forcing her to look at him again.
“Do you have any idea how long it took me to find you, Heather? How long I’ve had that shop, your aunt’s art gallery, that marketing company in Chicago — all of them bugged? I’ve been tracking your family for years, trying to find a Pritchett bitch who hadn’t already killed a man to claim her power.” He smiled, but it was dark, his dimples barely showing as he tilted her chin up. “All I’d ever found before you was a bunch of sixteen year olds, and I was not using some kid. Not for what I have planned.” His words sent a chill through the heat in her skin.
“Please, you don’t have to do anything. You can let me —” He released her hair and slapped her hard again. White hot pain exploded in her cheek and she tried to turn away, to shield her face with her arm.
“You think I’m going to just let you go? After everything I’ve done? It took me FOREVER to research your family, to uncover what you’d been doing for centuries, and it took even longer to find you.”
“I don’t understand —” She felt the tears on her cheeks, and she tried to stifle the urge to completely lose it. Her arousal was a distant, fading buzz in the back of her mind as he interrupted her.
“Shut up, Heather!” Neil leaned back and dragged the backpack higher on the bed. He pulled out a ball gag and put it to her lips, but she clamped them shut. With a dark laugh he reached back into the bag, and with a flick of his wrist a black knife was extended in his hand. “Open your mouth.”
Heather whimpered as he brought the knife up to her cheek, tapping the blade against her skin, the sharp edge making her hyper aware. He pressed the ball gag to her lips again and this time she opened them. Neil shoved it hard between her lips and she tried to ignore the way it made her jaw ache already. He held the knife above her face. The black metal reminded her of combat knives in movies.
“If you spit it out, or scream again, I’m going to cut your pretty face. Understand?” His voice was dark and she nodded quickly, clenching her fists on the other side of the cuffs as he laid the knife down next to him. “Good. Now, as I was saying, I had to find someone who hadn’t completed the rite yet, and I wasn’t willing to touch some kid. Even if they were the evil spawn of your fucking family. Then I heard them all talking about you. Heather Pritchett. About how you were stubborn, about how you hadn’t claimed your power yet, about how you refused to.”
Heather nodded, trying to explain through the gag that she’d never done the rite, that she wouldn’t have gone through with it.
“Shut up, Heather! There’s no use trying to deny it now. Your cousin Theresa shouted it to the whole store when you decided to go to that speed dating event, when you decided to complete the rite. You can’t lie to me.” He was growling, his mouth close to hers. “And I felt you draw the rune on my fucking skin, so don’t you dare say I wasn’t next.”
Heather jerked hard on the cuffs, only rewarding herself with bruised wrists. She was crying, as she tried not to fall apart. It didn’t help. How many of her family members had gone through the rite with no issue at all? How many had seamlessly found a guy, gone out, done the rite, and walked off into the sunset like it was nothing?
And could Heather have the same thing? No. Of course not.
“Oh. And I heard your aunt’s little pep talk today. You have one hell of a family. Marguerite said she’d slit your throat if you didn’t go through with it. It may sound conceited, but I was sort of hoping to hear them talking about me.” Neil cupped her breast again, his thumb rolling over her nipple until it hardened. “You’re all a bunch of vicious animals. Even to each other. I’m doing the world a service.”
Heather tried to twist away as his light touch against her skin stirred up the fire inside her. He reacted by pinching her nipple until she was screaming against the gag, arching her back to try to ease the pain. He let go and laughed as she collapsed back against the bed.
“I’ve been researching for years how to destroy your family. How to get you all back for killing Kyle, for killing all of the men you have. And what I’ve needed for the last two years was a Pritchett witch who had yet to perform the rite. I almost found one last year, twenty-one years old, I was figuring out how to meet her, and then she did it. Killed a guy named Michael Davis.”
Heather screamed in frustration. She tried to tell him she was sorry, sorry for her family, sorry for drawing the rune on his skin, sorry for his friend. It all came out in an inarticulate garble through the gag, which only made her cry harder. She turned to the side and saw that the candle on her nightstand wasn’t lit. She hadn’t lit the candles! Heather looked up at him, pleading with her eyes. She looked back to the candle and made a noise trying to make him look.
“What? What, Heather? You want to say something? You think you can tell me anything that will change my mind?” Neil was mocking her but she looked back at him and nodded. With a sneer he pulled the gag out of her mouth, strands of drool following it as she coughed.
“The candles. I —” she gasped a breath and rambled out her defense, “I didn’t light them. I couldn’t have done it. I couldn’t have. It wouldn’t have worked. The rite doesn’t work without them.”
Neil looked at the seven candles scattered around, handmade by her Aunt Carol. He snapped his fingers and all seven lit at once. The blue fire in his eyes when he looked back at her, and the acrid smell of magic in the air, made her whimper. He really did have magic. He hadn’t lied. “There. All fixed. We’re going to do the rite, Heather, just with a few changes.” He shoved the gag back into her mouth and she shook her head as he got off her.
Heather tried to curl up but found that it was incredibly difficult to move, like a heavy weight had draped over her. It made it hard to breathe.
“Spread your legs.” His eyes were glowing, magic crackling through the air. Heather tried to shut her legs but she couldn’t move them any closer together. “You can spread them yourself, or I can do it for you. Last chance, Heather.” Heather tried to bend her knees against the heaviness, but her legs snapped back to the bed as if someone had grabbed her ankles. The white cloth he had laid out wound itself around her ankles and tied itself off to the corners of the bed.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Magic bondage?
Under all the fear, a part of her responded to being restrained and she hated it.
“I’ve inverted the rite, Heather. Instead of giving you magic, it’s going to strip the magic from every Pritchett witch. And it’s going to hurt. A lot.” He grinned as he said it and she whimpered. “It will return all that power back to nature where it belongs. Your family was never meant to have magic, and this will restore balance, and when it hurts you, if it fucks up your family’s lives — I’ll call that the beginning of a karmic solution for all the lives they’ve taken.”
Heather shook her head sharply. The rite still wouldn’t work. She had to summon Herja, and there was no way she’d do that. No way would she summon Herja into this epic fuck up. Adding an immortal psychopath wasn’t going to make this any better. With Heather’s luck Herja would probably kill them both and th
en go on a rampage because someone denied her the sacrifice the way she liked it. Neil climbed back onto the bed, and straddled her hips again, not like she could move more than a few inches now. Then he picked up the knife again, and she started begging through the gag.
“Shh, shh. This is going to hurt, but I need to focus. You don’t want me to have to start over.” Neil didn’t wait as he pressed the tip of the blade against the skin over her sternum and dragged it in a curve. Heather screamed as the blood came up from the thin line, but Neil didn’t stop. “Kyle and I had known each other since middle school. Did I mention that?” Another cut, diagonal to the first. Another scream. “I had to keep the magic from him, but he didn’t care about my weird family.” Cut. Scream.
Heather tugged on the cuffs, but Neil grabbed her face and made her look at him. He had the kind of disconnected hate on his face that meant she wasn’t a person to him anymore. There was no compassion, even as she felt a warm trail of her blood slide between her breasts and onto her stomach.
“If you move too much I might make a mistake. Two more runes, Heather. Think of it as penance for what you had planned for me tonight. After all, you were going to kill me, and once I’m done here you’ll probably be alive. It doesn’t matter. You and your bitch family won’t be able to come after me.” The knife moved to the left side of her chest, near her shoulder. She shook her head, pleading against the gag, and then it sank in. Heather tried to swallow the scream, tried to stay still as he cut in smooth motions. Sharp lines of pain zinged through her nerves like alarm bells. Her body wanted her to run, but there was nowhere to run. Adrenaline dumping into her static body made her heart pound, her blood tracking down her stomach, her sides, and the hollow of her neck. Neil spoke again as her ears buzzed from the pain, “One more, then we can get started.”
STARTED?! Heather screamed the word against the gag and Neil only laughed as the blade cut into the other side of her chest.
The Darker Side of Love (A Dark Erotica Boxed Set) Page 21
