Chapter 13
13
GWEN
T he presence of danger triggers a primal response in humans, causing them to flee, fight, or freeze. But with Mason, it’s different.
He exudes danger in every fiber of his being, yet I never feel the urge to run or hide. Instead, he ignites a dangerous fire within me. It’s as if his very essence defies all logic and instinct within me.
My mouth goes dry, my palms slick with sweat, but most dangerously, he brings out an unnerving level of confidence within me. A false bravado that convinces me I can survive the depths of hell because I am confident that he would drag me down there kicking and screaming.
You could call that fight, but I think of it as a twisted tango because I know I will never win, but something within me won’t let me show my fear because if he is a beast, then I am a monster. With Mason, I can always go lower and be faster and wiser, but never stronger. It’s been like that since we were kids, and even if I leave every battle black and blue, it’s okay because he becomes less of a man every time we do this violent dance, and it is my sick pleasure to make him feel like the insecure boy I know he is.
His obsidian eyes glitter with a dangerous gleam as he slowly roams over every curve of my body in my grey polyester pantsuit. The intensity of his gaze sends shivers down my spine as he licks his lips and clicks his tongue in disapproval.
“What a shame,” he purrs, “to hide all this beauty from me. How disrespectful.”
Mia is still wrapped around me, giggling, swinging a brown-skinned Barbie doll with a ’70s outfit at me. I tuck a loose strand of hair that has fallen out of my bun behind my ear, plaster on a smile, and bend down to Mia’s eye level, “What’s that, baby?”
She giggles. “I am going to name her Jasmine. She’s so pretty! Uncle Mason got me her and three others.”
She laces her hand with mine and drags me across the living room to sit next to Mason. I take a deep breath and instantly regret it because he smells precisely like he did in high school: leather and spice. The difference between the Mason who gave me my first kiss and the Mason I know now is that I watched him murder a man and he relished in the violence. That is why I got my bachelor’s in California instead of staying in D.C.
When Mia pulls me down, I sit on my knees next to Mason. He places an arm behind me, leaning back slightly, and leans over my shoulder. His breath spreads across my skin in heavy gusts, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand at attention.
“I’ve missed you, G. ”
I speak low, smiling as I pick up a tanned-skinned Barbie with long, straight, black hair, and act as if I am happy to play Barbies because Mia can’t know how much danger we’re in.
“ Uncle Mason?”
He darkly laughs, his lips brushing over the curve of my neck. “I would have preferred Daddy, but it seems my girl has been a little slut.”
“I’m not yours,” I growl, keeping my eyes on Mia.
“Oh, come on now, pretty girl,” he sighs as if he is exhausted. “You know you can’t be no one else’s. I’ll make you watch me kill them.”
I inhale sharply, and he nips at my flesh, and I flinch away, leaning in closer to Mia, “Hey baby, why don’t you introduce Jasmine to your other doll, Hannah?”
Mia’s eyes light up, and she jumps to her feet. “Hannah is going to love you, Jasmine!”
She giggles and runs to the twins’ bedroom, and once I hear the door slam behind her, I feel as if I can breathe. Mason is still breathing down my neck, but instead of the welcomed heat, it feels like the breeze of the Arctic consuming me, chilling me to the bone. He inhales me violently, his lips forming into a satisfied smirk as he exhales, a content sigh leaving his lips.
“You have been very naughty, pretty girl.”
His fingers tangle in my hair and pull it loose from its tight bun. It’s a gesture that feels too familiar as if he’s done this every night when I come home from work, as if being with me is second nature to him .
“You deserve punishment, pretty girl, for leaving D.C., for sending me money without a return address, and for making me hunt you down like a fucking animal.” His growl deepens with every word, and a spray of spit is shot out onto my face.
The strands of my hair fall in large, loose curls down my back, and Mason wraps them around his hand, yanking sharply. “But the worst thing you did was get knocked up by someone else. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? Who was it that got to taste your sweet little pussy?”
Mason jerks my head back, and my scalp feels like it is on fire. My head is throbbing as if each strand of hair is being plucked from my skull, but I refuse to cry or beg. I can’t give him the fucking satisfaction. Instead, I keep my mouth shut, and I grunt, jerking against him as if I want him to pull harder.
I speak through gritted teeth, “None of your goddamn business.”
He yanks me down to the ground with a brutal force, pinning me beneath him. His face contorts into a starving animal, his obsidian eyes glinting with a manic hunger that makes my blood cold. A small whimper leaves my lips, and his coal eyes brighten as if he has found his next meal in me. His voice comes out like a spider’s caress along my skin, and my neck stretches to escape the delight on his face.
“You know I always loved it when you put up a fight, G; it always made breaking you so much better.”
My body freezes as he licks up my face from chin to temple and moans at the taste of my sweat on his tongue.
“Now, tell me who I have to kill for tasting you first, for ruining my precious pretty girl.”
My ears are ringing, my breathing is coming out in harsh, sharp gusts, and I feel like, for the first time, I may experience what other humans do. I may not be able to break him down because he is threatening Nikolai. Mason would never kill a kid, but he would make me watch as the first man who ever made me feel like my skin was electric died, and then Mason would want to fuck me next to his corpse. I could never do that. Something within me crumbles, and I growl, flattening my hands against Mason’s chest and pushing. He doesn’t move.
Instead, he chuckles, “Oh, you’d rather have me go to Mia’s room? I would hate to kill my daughter, but we can always make another.”
I freeze, my eyes widen. “Mason, you wouldn’t dare.”
His face contorts into a snarl, and he knocks against mine. “You want to bet?”
I fall into the black hole of his eyes and find no humor or fear, and then I realize I’ve been lying to myself. Mason would kill my kids, but I stare, voice gritty as I growl, “You lay a finger on her, and I will bathe myself in your blood. I will kill you so slowly that you beg for death.”
Mason’s laugh is boisterous and light, as if he did not just threaten my babies, and he rips my hands off his chest and presses them into the rug above my head, locked together.
“Oh, there she is.” He searches my face with a grand smile. “My little psycho.”
“I am not yours,” I whisper, but Mason just smiles, nuzzling his nose against my neck, and for the first time, I can feel a bulge against my thigh growing.
“Oh, but you always have, and always will, pretty girl. You will always be my little psycho, but it’s not like you have a choice anymore,” he coos, and my body becomes so stiff I feel like I can’t move.
“What do you mean I don’t have a choice?”
“I gave you six years to pay off this debt, and you still owe me one hundred and ninety five thousand dollars,” he whispers as his nose trails my neck to his ear. “It’s a bad look for me to have such an outstanding balance.”
“Then go find my fucking father and kill him,” I growl, but he clicks his tongue at me.
“I don’t want your father, pretty girl,” he purrs. “I want you.”
“You can’t have me,” I say with hardened eyes and my voice a deep rasp I have never had before this moment.
“You need to learn how to play your cards right because I have a royal flush right now, and your hand is bad.” He laughs. “You see, either you get me my money by morning, or you become my little mistress, and if you fight me on this, I will take little Mia in there and sell her to the highest bidder.” My body becomes ice cold, my mouth dry, and I stop breathing, but Mason continues with a humorous smile, “And then you hate me and still have to be mine.”
“You have to give me more than a night, Mason,” I whimper, the tears in the back of my throat vibrating with the need to run down my face. “Please.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he inhales me again, “48 hours.”
“Not enough time,” I say, locking eyes with his empty abyss .
“Make it enough,” he snarls, his grip on my wrist tightening to a crushing level that sends shockwaves of pain through my entire body. I grit my teeth and refuse to let out a single cry, knowing it will only fuel his rage.
The front door slams with a deafening force, and Nana’s heels clicking against the hardwood floor fills me with relief. My eyes squeeze shut as I struggle to catch my breath as the sound of her rustling through her purse gets louder. When she rounds the corner, all the sound she is making stops, and I can feel her heavy gaze on Mason on top of me.
He doesn’t flinch or even try to move; instead, he makes that boyish smile of his as he stares at me head-on and says, “Hi, Miss Rose.”
“Boy,” she greets, walking forward and placing her bag on the end table closest to her. “Get up off my granddaughter.”
Mason laughs into a scoff as he rolls his eyes. It is as if we are teenagers again, and she just walked in on us making out when he was about to get to second base.
He sits up, still straddling me, and places both hands on his lap with a lazy smile. “Oh come on, Miss Rose, we’re grown now.”
My grandmother clocks her head to the side and stares Mason down. “You don’t fool me, Mason. I know your daddy. I know how you boys get down.”
Mason’s eyes harden into an icy glare as he looks Nana up and down, sizing her up like a predator assessing its prey. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as if he’s already planning his victory.
“How do we get down? ”
“By beating your women into a pulp,” she declares, running her tongue across her gums with a chilling smirk and a humorless laugh. “But you see, I’ll tell you what I told your granddaddy when we were young.”
Mason laughs, a smirk playing on his face. “Oh yeah, and what did you tell him?”
My nana reaches into her coat pocket and brandishes a gun, pointing it directly at Mason. “I told him that I am a sharpshooter who will kill him and you dead without hesitation.”
Mason’s humor leaves his face, but he looks my nana square in the eye and scoffs out a warning: “Miss Rose, you’re not the only one with a gun.”
Nana smirks, her finger resting on the trigger. “I bet,” she says calmly as she cocks the gun. “But I am the only one with their gun cocked and ready to blow.” Her voice drops lower, almost a guttural growl. “So as I said, get the fuck up off my granddaughter and mosey yourself up out of this house.”
Mason’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t meet her challenge. Instead, he slowly rises from his position on top of me, maintaining eye contact with Nana the entire time. His hands are up in the air as a sign of surrender, and his voice is calm but firm.
“48 hours, Gwen, not a minute after,” he says, not backing down. I don’t dare look in his direction but feel his gaze streaming down on me.
Nana Rose shakes her head, her gun hand steady. “We’ll be, Mason, but if you ever try to pull this garbage again, I won’t hesitate. Understand?”
Mason bares his teeth in a smile that isn’t quite a smile, then turns his gaze to me. “Neither will I. ”
Nana Rose keeps the gun trained on him as he walks past us out the door. I stay lying on the ground, my hands above my head and my breathing unsteady. Nana’s breath comes out shaky, but she doesn’t make me move because I feel completely human for the first time in my life, no more bravado or slick comeback to defend me.
I am terrified and frozen on my living room floor.