Scorch (Virtues & Lies 2)

Releasing her, my hands close around the thick straps of the dress. Pulling them in one swift tug, I relish the sound of the fabric tearing down the front seam with her shaky gasp. Bits of glittering red fly off in all directions like bludgeoned blood drops.

There’s something uniquely satisfying about it. The destruction. The feel. The sight. The sound. I can barely contain myself as her arse presses back into me, her hands continuing to grapple at my legs.

“You need to start listening, Belles, because I’m done repeating myself. When I tell you to do something, you do it. If I tell you to take off the fucking dress, you take it off.” I spin her to face me, but she refuses to meet my stare. “If I ask you what in the fuck you’re doing, you tell me every little detail.”

The dress tangles around my feet as I try to take a step back to steady myself, and all it does is set the bomb in my chest off. Ripping it completely off her body, I throw it into the fire, watching the red scorch black until flames consume it completely.

“You should have told me the moment they came to you.”

Her arms wrap around her torso, along the cinched waistband of her suspender belt. The barely there, black lace bra strain with the weight of her breasts as the straps wrapped around her ribcage roll into each other. And still, the only place my eyes settle are on her stomach. They search the lines of the lace, trying to see what’s underneath.

The more I look, the more I see our little girl. The tiny little baby I held in my hands. The only life I can’t handle staining them.

The only obvious sign of her existence is the chaos she left behind. It makes perfect sense that our child, the only soul I put above my wife, is the ghost undoing us.

Sitting back onto the coffee table, I look up at her shadowed face. Her eyes screw shut before I find them, and it doesn’t just sting, it makes my insides twist with so much anger that before I can stop myself, I grip her wrists, trying to pry her arms open so I can see her without anything between us, not even her limbs.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Arabella freezes, and her fight disappears as her face thaws. But when she opens her eyes, cold composure meets my gaze. Dropping my hands to my thighs, I take in the raw and indignant clench of her jaw and flare of her nostrils.

What the hell am I doing? I ask myself as I rub my hands over my face. Why does it have to be like this?

I only want her. Nothing else matters, just Arabella. She’s the only good thing that’s left.

I lower my hands, about to pull her closer, but before I touch her, she slaps them away.

“Don’t touch me!” She wobbles on her high heels with the force of her swing. Taking a step back, her glare bores into mine. “You want to hurt me?”

“If that’s what it takes.” I lose my jacket.

Shock startles her features as she takes in all the blood. A lot of it is mine, but mostly it belongs to the sack of shit that came at us. He didn’t want to talk; now he’ll never be heard from again.

Leaning over the glass side table beside one of the sofas, she braces herself over it. The reflection of the flames licks at her skin.

“Go on, then. I’m right here, Christopher. Do. Your. Worst. Come on! Break me…” Her acrid laugh verges on manic. “What are you waiting for? Make me pay for everything. Punish me. Do it!”

Her wide, irked stare doesn’t budge from mine. Our breaths clash in the air around us as they become harder. Louder.

“I let another man touch me.”

Sucking her lips between her teeth, Arabella stands straighter. Her hands round to the edge of the table, grasping it tight.

“I let him hold me.”

She’s baiting me, I know that. But you don’t bait a lion without getting torn to shreds. We both know that.

“I let him believe I would give him everything.”

“Shut your smart mouth.” I pick up the envelope on the coffee table with a growl.

Arabella doesn’t miss a beat; she watches my hands with disguised interest and confusion. Her lips part like she’s about to throw something else out as I close the space between us.

Silencing her with my finger, I drop the envelope between us on the table as I mimic her stance.

“You know what rhinos do when they want a mate?”

A look of absurdity flashes through her features, but she remains silent. Heavy breaths and glistening eyes are the only things giving her emotions away.