He was in there.
He was also in front of me, a mixture of bad drugs that altered his mind on top of drugs that altered his body to the point of death if he kept taking them.
But he was present.
And I refused to let him go.
I wouldn’t.
Because if this man in front of me was the one I needed to love, then I would love him, I’d fight for him, with him, and I’d do everything in my power to make sure that one day, he smiled.
“Are you going to say goodbye now?” Maksim asked, his eyes filled with tears like he wanted to die.
My throat closed up like I was going to.
I shook my head slowly. “No,” I whispered, and with trembling hands, I cupped his face and murmured, “I’m here to say hello.”
His face went slack, confused, eyes searching. “What?”
“Don’t control your monster…” I said softly. “Control the man.” I kissed him then, a brutal, painful kiss that hurt my lips as I pressed them against his.
And then I tugged on the knot in the rope.
And set my monster free.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Jekyll had more than a father’s interest; Hyde had more than a son’s indifference.” —Robert Louis Stevenson
Maksim
I feel her.
I see her.
She’s not afraid—she should be.
I am.
I don’t tell her this.
She sees me, not him, me, just me, me, me, me.
In the back of my mind, I realize I love her, I realize I need her more than I need air, but I also realize what I am, who I am, and I know that the two don’t mix. I know that no matter what this is, the person I am now is a person who cannot be both.
A person who is not himself.
Or maybe I finally am.
I shake the thoughts from my head.
Everything is fuzzy as she stares me down; her eyes are locking on mine as if I’m going to disappear. The rest of my body calms down, but I have to force it as I grip her arms and keep her seated on me.
“Izzy,” I rasp.
My vision doubles.
I don’t know what’s going on.
If it’s the poison?
The lack of injections?
The original drug given to me?
I feel like laughing.
I don’t, though. Instead, I stare numbly at her and wish for her kiss again, to feel the heat of her mouth even though I know I shouldn’t want it for some reason.
I want her comfort.
Why do I need comfort?
“Izzy.” I like her name; I like the way it feels on my lips, the way it rolls across my tongue. She’s so pretty.
Her hair is so tempting. Should I grab it? Should I pull it and hold her down while I fuck her?
My body recoils just before lust burns down my limbs until I’m so hard I can’t think straight.
Ours.
Mine.
“Was that the best you could do?” I taunt.
“No.” She gets off of me and stands. “Show me.”
“Show you what?”
“Your control.”
I blink slowly and then stare down at some of the rope that’s still wrapped and knotted around me. I realize each knot is another kill, another life stolen, wrapped intricately around me, holding me prisoner.
Clearly, I’m sick because I imagine what it would be like to tie this rope around her body, to claim each kill, to own it even more than I already do.
I stumble forward. “You’ll have to untie all of me.”
She gulps, her eyes reflecting fear.
Good.
At least she’s smart, my Izzy.
She should be scared.
Her hands shake as she starts the painfully slow process of untying me. As she loosens each of the ropes, I feel my body buzzing more and more with awareness. With each brush of her fingertips, I lose my mind even more.
She gets closer and closer; she smells like heaven.
And being tied still feels like the sweetest hell. I’m tortured, waiting to touch her, waiting to tie her. The idea has me so hard I can barely think straight.
I’m more calm than I think I should be, given the circumstances. I feel like myself and wonder if this is truly another blackout… A sigh slips out, then I remind myself that Maksim doesn’t want to remember this side of us.
He doesn’t want to accept it.
Not then.
Not now.
But maybe he’ll accept Izzy.
I groan as the last rope is pulled away from me and falls to the floor. Izzy’s blue eyes are wide as saucers.
I take a step toward her. “Are you ready, Izzy?”
She licks her lips, and they tremble. I want to bite them, then suck them until they swell beneath the pressure of my mouth. My cock strains against my jeans until my sole focus is devouring this girl whole.
I don’t think about love or friendship. I think about how mouthwatering she is. I think about how good she’d look hanging from the ceiling, tied in ropes, open and waiting for me, legs spread.
It’s painful to see those images and know that I only have right now and that soon it will all be over, won’t it?