Handing him my gun, I dart up the steps to my room. Anger is obvious in every step I take. Obviously I need to teach her a lesson. She needs to learn that my word always matters and must always be obeyed.
The second my foot touches the top step, I hear the door to my room click closed. Did she think that I wouldn’t know? I forcefully push through the door. It slams against the wall, but I don’t even care. I don’t care about scaring her or breaking shit. All I care about is her learning to listen and obey what I say.
“Didn’t I tell you to stay in here?” I question her, already knowing the answer. She is sitting on the far side of the bed, her face hiding behind a mess of brown hair.
My voice is heard only by myself, though, because she doesn’t look up. This only throws more gasoline onto the fire. Maybe I need to remind her who is in charge…
I walk over to my desk to grab my favorite gun before I cross the room and grip her arm, pushing her down onto the bed. Her eyes grow even wider with fear as she takes notice of the gun.
“I didn’t…” she stutters. It doesn’t matter what she did – I don’t want to hear it. I place the barrel of the gun against her lips, making her fully aware of what it is that I can do, will do, to her.
“I don’t care about your excuses. When I tell you to stay put, I mean it. It’s not for shits and giggles, Bree. This world isn’t the world you’re used to.” Every word that slips from my mouth is laced with some sort of self-induced anger. Rationally, I know I have no real reason to be mad at her, but it pisses me off that she didn’t listen.
Tears prick at the corners of her eyelids and slide down the side of her face. I feel my heart beat. Once. It beat once in that second as I watch more tears slip from her eyes.
Pulling the gun from her lips and setting it on the night stand, I stand to my full stature. She is still looking at me like I just killed a bucket full of kittens.
“Why did you kill him?” she asks quietly, as if she really doesn’t mean to ask it at all. She looks down at the floor, her brown hair flowing around her head like she just brushed it. She is wearing a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a white spaghetti strap tank top. She looks so young and naïve. I almost want to wrap her up and send her away, as far away from me as I can get her. But I won’t simply because I am too selfish to.
“He deserved to die.” It is that simple. I untuck my dress shirt from my slacks, pulling at the buttons to take it off.
“People don’t just deserve to die.” Her voice is no longer that of the meek girl I had just seen. I smile to myself for the strength that she is showing. It will be a pleasure to break her.
“They do when they owe me money, even more so when they steal from me. He stole from me and took my money. Not that any of this concerns you.” I sound like an asshole. Even though I have no reason to justify my actions, I feel like I have to. I feel like I need her to understand why I did what I did.
“Did you ever think he needed the money? Maybe he was poor and had a family?” Her voice is pitched, and her face is etched in anger. I want to be proud that she has a backbone, but I also want to break it, snapping it into itty-bitty pieces. People with her attitude don’t make it very long where I come from.
“Generally, anyone who comes to me needs the money. It doesn’t matter what it’s for, Bree. If you make a deal with the devil for your soul and lose, he will take it. Well, in this case I’m the devil. They made the deal; I was just following through with the soul taking part.”
Her nose tips up, and her eyes grow with a fire that makes my dick ache. Maybe taking her wasn’t the best idea…
“You’re a monster. A sick, horrific monster that gets off on using and abusing people.” The distaste in her voice only makes me want her more. A smile pulls at my lips as I pull my shirt off completely. Her eyes go straight to my bare chest and stay there for a moment. Even if she thinks I am a monster, she is still attracted to me.
“Ahhh, continue telling me how much of a monster I am. Please.” I mockingly plead, tilting my head at her. She narrows her eyes, and her tongue dips out of her mouth and onto her bottom lip to moisten it. She looks like a snake ready to strike.
Her eyes leave mine as she adjusts herself in the bed, her body rolling over as she pulls the covers up and over her head. I must have misread her. I thought for sure she was going to strike back with something.
“Are we done playing games already?” I taunt her, walking over to the bed and sliding into my spot. She scoots closer to her side, as if getting away from me is her number one priority. That’s too bad because getting closer to her is my number one priority.
Reaching out, I put my hand under the blanket and latch onto her arm. A squeal escapes her mouth as I pull her toward me. Of course she has to fight me.
“Let. Go. Of. Me,” she grits out every word as she tries to shake me off. Does she think she can win? Does she think I won’t hurt her? I will…
I won’t…
“Nope.” I pull harder until she is on my side of the bed, and I am leaning over her. Our chests are pushed against one another’s, and her breaths are coming in at a rate that is way higher than normal…