Chapter 22 Mattie #2
He winced but then smiled. "There are a lot of things I can do to you without having to look at that damaged flesh." He gripped her face, his thumb on one cheek and his finger on the other. "A lot of things you could do with those pouty lips of yours."
Mattie's eyes watered from the pressure, but she refused to cry out. That would only encourage him.
"I don't know what you mean," she managed.
Bushy Eyebrows' eyes narrowed. "Are you mocking me?"
"No, sir. I genuinely don't know…"
"Shut up." He released her cheeks to grip the back of her neck, his fingers wrapping around the slender column like a collar. "You talk too much."
The other immortals had gone quiet, watching the exchange with predatory interest. Even Yoden had stopped staring at her chest long enough to pay attention to the escalating confrontation.
"Tarik," one of them said. "Maybe ease up. She's just a dumb girl that doesn't know what a dick looks like."
Tarik. So that was Bushy Eyebrows' name.
His grip on her neck tightened. "Then perhaps it's time to acquaint her with mine."
Panic seized Mattie. Was he going to force her right there and then in front of his friends? Were they going to follow his example?
"Please." The word came out smaller than Mattie intended. "I don't want any trouble."
"Then you shouldn't have been born with that face and that attitude." Tarik pulled her closer, until their noses were almost touching. "Pretty girls with bad attitudes are born to be in trouble."
From the corner of her eye, Mattie could see Anil behind the bar. He'd stopped pretending to polish glasses and was standing frozen, one hand on the counter, his face gray with fear. He wanted to help, she could see it in his eyes, but he was just as helpless as she was.
There was no one coming to save her.
"Please," she pleaded, hating having to beg and knowing it wouldn't save her. "Just tell me what you want me to do."
Tarik's smile was slow and cruel. "That's better. See how easy it is when you cooperate?"
He released her neck, and she slumped in her chair, dizzy with relief. Maybe that was it. Maybe she'd humiliated herself enough to satisfy him, and he'd let her go.
"Stand up," he said.
Or maybe not.
Mattie stood on shaking legs. Her bad leg throbbed, the scar tissue pulling tight from stress. She clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from trembling.
"Turn around."
She turned.
"Nice." Tarik's voice came from behind her, appraising. "Very nice. What do you think, boys? Is she worth keeping around?"
"Definitely," Yoden said.
"She's got a limp," Galus observed.
Tarik's hand landed on her lower back, making her flinch. "Doesn't matter. I'm not interested in her legs."
As the others laughed, Mattie stared at the wall and tried to turn invisible.
"Turn back around," he commanded.
She turned. Tarik was standing close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. He was tall, like all the immortals, and he enjoyed looming over her.
"You know what I think, Matilda?" He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, an oddly gentle gesture that was somehow more terrifying than his earlier violence.
"I think you need a friend. Someone to look out for you.
Someone to make sure the other men on this island know you're spoken for. "
"I don't…"
"I wasn't asking." His hand moved from her hair to her cheek, cupping it with false tenderness. "You need a protector. And I'm volunteering."
"That's very kind, but—"
"I'm not kind." His thumb traced her lower lip, and she fought not to gag. "You give me what I want, and I make sure no one else bothers you."
"I don't think that's necessary."
"I wasn't asking what you think. I was telling you how it's going to be." His other hand settled on her hip, pulling her closer. "You and me are going to be very good friends."
Mattie's mind raced through options.
Screaming was pointless because no one would come.
Running was impossible because she couldn't outrun an immortal. Fighting was laughable because she'd be dead before she made a move.
There was nothing she could do.
Nothing except endure whatever came next and hope she survived it.
"Say something," Tarik commanded.
"What would you like me to say?"
"Thank me for offering you my protection."
The words stuck in her throat. She knew she should say them, knew that refusing would only make things worse, but everything in her rebelled at the idea of thanking this monster for anything.
"Thank you," she finally managed.
"Thank you, what?"
"Thank you for...for your protection."
"Good girl." He smiled like she'd done a trick.
His hand on her hip tightened, and he pulled her flush against him. She could feel his body against hers, could smell the whiskey and sweat and the particular musk that immortal males seemed to carry. Her skin crawled everywhere his hands touched.
"Now," he said, his lips close to her ear, "why don't we go somewhere more private? Somewhere we can get to know each other better?"
"The bar's still open," she said desperately. "I can't leave until—"
"The bar is closed when I say it's closed." He looked over her shoulder at Anil. "Isn't that right, bartender?"
"I—" Anil's voice cracked. "The curfew—"
"Fuck the curfew." Tarik's hand moved from her hip to her waist, then higher. "We're having a private party. Get lost, human."
Anil didn't move, and for one wild moment, Mattie thought he might actually try to intervene, that he might do something stupid and heroic that would get him killed.
Then his shoulders slumped. "I'll be in the back," he said, not meeting her eyes.
He disappeared through the door behind the bar. The click of it closing was the loneliest sound Mattie had ever heard.
She was alone now. Alone with four immortals and nowhere to run.
Tarik's attention returned to her, his hands roaming with increasing boldness. "Now, where were we?"
"Please." She hated how her voice shook. "Don't do this."
"Don't do what?" His hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back. "I haven't done anything yet. But I'm going to. And you're going to enjoy it."
She was completely and utterly at his mercy.
And he had none.