And OK, yeah. I mostly did that so I didn’t have to see my stepfather or be subjected to his house rules while I was on break, but it was nice to spend that time with my mom and I don’t regret it.
I was the perfectly poised little rich girl any time we were in public and people could see me.
And I used to have real friends. Before my stepfather ripped me out of my boarding school when I was fifteen and made me come home and go to school with the sons and daughters of all his horrible friends.
Like Dickerson. Gross.
Then… everything changed. Me, mostly. But it wasn’t my fault.
And then my mother passed away two years ago and suddenly I was no one’s light. I was just… Wild Thing.
That’s what he called me.
Wild thing.
Like I’m an animal.
Fuck him.
When he ambushed me on Thursday I got lucky. He couldn’t drag me out of the lobby, not without me making a scene. So he grabbed my arm tight and told me to get in the elevator and once we got upstairs we would wait until his people came to take me away in the middle of the night.
So I could “get the help I needed”.
He said I was ruining his reputation, and his business, and his life.
What about my life? He’s the one who ruined that.
And me too.
He ruined me.
No, Lyssa. I chastise myself for falling back into that old belief. I’ve worked hard on my issues. So I drink a little too much? And I party hard. And go dancing. He made me this girl, didn’t he?
Yes, my inner voice soothes.
It’s all his fault I’m wild.
But when we got off the elevator on my floor there were housekeepers in the hallway. And I knew… if I did not make a scene—the biggest scene I’ve ever made in my entire life—if I did not become the personification of Wild Thing, then everything would go back to the way it was.
And I would not allow that to happen.
My freedom was too important.
So I did. And I won that day.
But I’m not going to win this one.
The back door to the van opens and Mason the Princess Hunter stands there, backlit by the lights at the front of the mansion.
“Get out,” he says.
I’m still under the covers. My body hidden from him. But if I get out it won’t be.
“I don’t have clothes,” I mumble, my throat so dry, my voice cracks.
“Whose fault is that?” he asks.
“You ripped my dress off, you fucking asshole.”
He smiles. It’s the same smile as last night, but how I ever thought it was charming, I’ll never know. Because I see it for what it is now. Evil. He is evil. “You ran,” he says.
“Yeah, because you fucking drugged my drink and were about to stuff me into this van.” I hiss out that whole sentence.
“You know what?” he says, pointing his finger at me. “I don’t like your filthy fucking mouth.”
I practically guffaw. “You don’t like my filthy fucking mouth?”
“No,” he says. “I think it’s disgusting. And if you were my daughter I’d slap your ass every time those words flew out.”
“Ever hear of leading by example?” I snarl.
“Get out.”
“I don’t have clothes. I’m not gonna give you the pleasure of seeing me naked again.”
He smiles, and once again, it’s evil. “You wanna play that game, princess? Because I’ll play.”
And then he reaches under my covers, grabs my ankle, and pulls me out of the van.
CHAPTER FIVE – MASON
She slides to the edge of the van. I grab her shoulders, spin her around so she’s face down, and push down between her shoulder blades so her perfect ass is up in the air.
And then I swat her.
Hard.
She bucks her back and squeals. “You motherfucker!”
I slap her again. So hard, my hand is stinging.
“You wanna be a little wild thing?” I ask her. “I’ll show you what that gets you when I’m in charge.” I smack her one more time. And this makes her whimper. “Had enough?” I ask, breathing heavy. “Because I can go all day.”
“You’re a dick!”
One last time. I make it count.
“Ow!” she screams. “You—”
“Stop fighting, Lyssa. For once in your life, just do as you’re told. Because you can’t win. You can scream all you want, there’s nothing around here for miles. You can’t even run because you don’t have clothes.”
She starts breathing funny. Like maybe she’s crying. So I figure that last one did the trick. I grab her arm and pull her up, then spin her around.
For a second she almost tries to cover herself. But instead, she tilts up her chin, squares her shoulders, and looks me in the eyes. Daring me to find her sexy.
Which I do. There’s no way to deny that. But her attitude. Oh, fuck that. I do not put up with girls like Lyssa.