Flower in the Dark

Violet must sense my sudden change of mood, because she stops humming. Her shoulders are stiff, and I can see the tension running through the muscles of her back. She finishes preparing the meal and dishes it up into the bowls and plates she found in the cupboard. I could have told her which cupboard, but it was more fun to mess with her.

Violet brings the food over to the table, placing it down carefully before taking a seat as far from me as possible, not meeting my eyes. I sigh and scrub my hands over my face, fighting to gain back a semblance of calm.

“Sit with me,” I order her, working hard to keep the edge out of my tone.

Her eyes flit fearfully over my face, and she huffs before moving to sit a bit closer. I grit my teeth but don’t say anything else. I think she regrets making this dinner now, but I don’t because it smells delicious, and I can’t wait to devour it.

As we eat, she slowly begins to relax and starts to dig in, so enthusiastically that I have to bite back the grin that tries to escape at the sight. Her little moans as she eats are distracting as fuck, and I'm starting to get uncomfortable in my jeans, especially as I'm still not wearing boxers and the zipper is digging in. My hand drops down to my cock as I try to shift subtly under the table and alleviate the ache, but it doesn't work.

Her eyes narrow at my fidgeting because apparently there is no subtle way to readjust a cock inside denim. The way she is moaning around her food makes me want to feed her something else in the hopes she'll moan around that instead. The spices in the food mean that's not happening. Not a chance!

“I could give you another reason to moan,” I say conversationally, a shit-eating grin on my face, just to see her reaction.

She chokes on her food and quickly takes a drink of milk. Fuuuuuck. To have her on her knees and choking and slurping on my cock would be agony right now, like sticking a damn hot poker on it.

Chill dude. I take a deep breath, trying to direct my thoughts elsewhere. Once she can breathe again she glares at me, and I laugh. Her eyes widen, shock and something else is written all over her face as she watches me.

"This tasted fucking amazing. Thank you," I say when we are finished and she has finally stopped torturing me with the sounds she was making before.

I make a hasty escape upstairs, leaving her to clean up. I’m a bastard, but I can’t watch her being all homey in the kitchen without wanting to bend her over the table again. Once I’m back in my room, I shut the door and press my forehead against it, inhaling sharply.

"I need to stop this. I need to make it stop." I mumble to myself, scrunching my eyes closed in frustration, as the decision makes itself.

43

Violet

I feel so tired after cooking, then cleaning up after, that I go to bed. I feel more drained than usual.

Damn, I forgot to ask him to get me feminine products. That would have wiped the dirty grin off his face for sure! I laugh to myself.

Going through my case I search for something comfy to wear to, but growl and roll my eyes in annoyance when I only find day clothes, and what I'm pretty sure is the entire contents of my lingerie drawer.

I grab one of my tees and a pair of panties, quickly changing into them before slipping into bed. I found clean sheets in one of the cupboards when I explored them a little more closely, so I put some on the bed, practically giddy at the thought of fresh bedding to get into. It’s like heaven, sliding into the cool sheets. Sleep pulls me under almost as soon as my head hits the pillow, and the scent of his fabric conditioner fills my nose.

In spite of the tension earlier, it wasn’t so bad spending time with him.

Once again I am yanked out of a deep sleep, this time to the feel of something cold pressed against my throat and an unsteady dripping onto my face. I’m pressed down into the bed by a heavy body and I can’t move. I start to scream, and Z’s voice shushes me. Terror consumes me, and I tremble with fear.

“Wh-what are you do-doing?” I stutter out, trying to keep as still as possible.

Dark soulless eyes meet mine. Z is above me, looking down. His teeth are clenched together, and he is breathing heavily through parted lips. I don’t think I have ever been so terrified in my life, not even when my dad was on one of his rampages.

That's when it hits me, and my own tears escape. Z is above me, a knife pressed to my throat, while tears are trickling slowly down his face and dripping onto mine, mingling with the tears that I am now shedding.

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't move, just stares into my eyes. I'm petrified, but my heart bleeds for him. The cold blade that could steal my life is being pressed lightly against my skin by a monster that is breaking right before me.

I don't move. I don't dare to even breathe. I wait for him to make a move, either to end my life or for him to change his mind.

I don’t know how long we lay there like that in a silent standoff, but his breathing has slowed and become more even, matching mine. I’m still not taking deep breaths, fear of the knife keeping me from doing so, but I have to try and remain calm and not let the panic manifest physically.

"Please," I whisper softly to him, breaking him from his trance.

His eyes focus on mine and sweep over my face, taking in the drying tears and the knife he is still holding perfectly still against my throat.

I close my eyes and say a silent goodbye, then open them to watch. A strange macabre desire to see it happen makes it impossible to keep my eyes closed. His eyes harden, and his lips close until they are a thin line.

If this is to be my last moment, I'll spend it taking him in. My eyes roam over him perched above me: from his shoulder-length hair, the toned and muscled body, and the arms that hold me and the instrument of death in a firm grip, to his dark coal-black eyes that hold me in their merciless gaze. He raises his arm.