Chapter 27
Dash
The terror of seeing her die afflicts my mind.
There is no cure.
It dominates me night and day, demolishes my thoughts, turning every second of my life into a rabid nightmare.
Mila pushes up on her toes so gracefully, with not one wobble or loss of balance. She may not dance anymore, but every step she takes is still like a ballerina emerging on stage.
She ’ s figured it out, knows my deepest fears, and now she will use that against me.
Her lips come closer to mine as they part, ready to try to seduce me.
I close my eyes. I ’ m tired. Exhausted.
I ’ ll let her kiss me. I know that ’ s what she ’ s about to do. Just one kiss. One second not filled with concern about her, but rather a moment of satisfaction.
I should stop her. We ’ re out in the open for fuck ’ s sake. All my efforts of making the world think I hate her, and here I am, hoping she rebels, fights me, and kisses me.
Her silken hair brushes against my chin. “ You ’ re doing it yourself,” she whispers. Her pain and sorrow-filled breath presses against my mouth instead of her full lips. A cold wind slips between us as she turns and leaves.
You ’ re doing it yourself.
She thinks I ’ m killing her by denying her.
I don ’ t miss the quick intake of breath as she walks to the art building and tries to suppress her cries.
Look what you have done!
I should just leave this school!
She pauses at the art building door, wipes away her tears, and then roll her shoulders back. She ’ s so fucking good at faking it to others.
Why can ’ t she fake it for me?
I ’ m a nuisance, a shadow that blocks the sun from warming her face. Like a good shadow, I continue to follow her. Clinging to her heels as she walks up the stairs to her class. Always lingering. That ’ s my duty now.
The smell of paint sticking on the walls brings back memories of Mom ’ s home studio. I ’ m happy mom can ’ t see me now. She ’ d kill me herself.
Music is blaring from the room at the end of the hall, where Mila ’ s silly little art parties take place.As much as I hate her being out late attending these, I secretly love watching her excel in art, in something I gave her.
If only she knew that while she was tucked away in this class, I not only watched her on the cameras I had installed in the room, but I made art, too. I bring Mila to life, piece by piece, through my sketches. It ’ s the only soothing balm that keeps me from losing my mind. I get a little piece of her buried in the pages of my sketchbook to take with me wherever I go.
You ’ re doing it yourself.
I stalk behind her, but with each step she takes closer to the art studio, the distance between us slowly dwindles until I ’ m on her heels.
You ’ re doing it yourself.
“ I can ’ t win!” I snarl out as I hit my chest.
Fuck! Stop talking, you idiot!
She suddenly turns, her brown hair floating around her face. When she smiles widely, you can see her dimples. I haven't seen her dimples since we were in high school, before the world forced us to change into the monsters we are today.
Stop! I shout at my feet, but my heart has taken over control of my body. My feet close any space between us, and my face dips lower so I can look her directly in the eye.
“ If I love you openly, my enemies will hunt you down.”
She drops her bag and reaches for my face again. “ Dash,” she replies like I ’ m a hero coming to save her.
“ I ’ m the villain. All I ’ m good at is killing, Mila. Why can ’ t you leave me be?”
She looks so determined when she snaps, “ You ’ re not the villain in our story.”
“ I ’ m not the hero,” I state with confidence.
“ No. I didn ’ t say you were.”
My heart beats slower. I wish I could be your hero, Mila.
She tilts her chin up higher so she can really look at me. “ You ’ re the antihero. You ’ re good and bad; you have no morals, yet the rules you live by beg to differ. You hate love, but you love that hate. Therefore, one can argue that you do know the definition of love, no matter how hard you try to distort and redefine it. You do everything to push me away, but deep down, you ’ d do anything to keep me close, too. You think a hero has to be morally sound, but the cold, hard truth is in order to be the hero, you can ’ t abide by all your morals, Dash, because in the end, the hero has to defeat the villain. Sometimes heroes kill, and the most selfless heroes are willing to admit that, and that ’ s why we call them anti-heroes, because sometimes killing the villain is the only answer to peace.”
There ’ s her poison. I knew she always had it. Like I said, she's a different kind of predator, one with poison instead of claws and teeth. Those words will sicken me because I can see her point. Maybe I am the anti-hero.
“ If I love you in the shadows, your heart will slowly wither. Tell me what to do, Mila!” I brace the palm of her hand over my jaw.
Please don ’ t leave me! Don ’ t give up.
No, I need her to give up to keep her safe.
“ Fucking tell me!” I roar, feeling my chest cut itself open so she can see the ugly heart that beats within those decaying walls. “ How can I love you openly, knowing my enemies will kill you? How do I ignore you, knowing that is killing you too? No matter what I do, you die. So I have to choose a physical or mental death.”
I didn ’ t want her to see this side of me. My ugly, feral, untamed beast that lurks so deep; it howls at night when it is denied her touch and ravages during the day when I allow it to stalk her.
She openly cries now.I want to lick away the tears that slowly paint her cheeks. Bottle them up to use when I want to draw her image.
See what you did? Did you think this would fix it?
“ We can ’ t worry about things we can ’ t control.”
“ That ’ s where you ’ re wrong. I can control it!” I can make the world think I hate you and love some other poor decoy.
She shakes her head, eyes glinting with emotions. “ No, you can ’ t. I could drop dead this minute. Wouldn ’ t you regret not loving me when we had the chance?”
My heart chills for one moment. Shock. Then it roars in fury. “ You plant such vile seeds and expect flowers to grow instead of weeds,” I growl.
Those words, the image of her dying…
The walls within me, the iron gate around my heart, slide open.
Control is lost.
The air surrounding us becomes too thin to breathe; only Mila can be my oxygen; she can feed my body what it needs in order to survive.
Grabbing her hand, I turn toward the nearest door. A twist of the knob—it ’ s locked—but one strong kick, and it breaks open. Half-finished sculptures surround us, fitting since our love is as unmoving and abrasive as their marble stone. The images are forever trapped, begging to be carved out from the rock, just like our passion.
I don ’ t bother trying to close the door since it ’ s hanging half off the hinges. Music from the other room sinks through the walls, obscuring our sins.
“ Dash!”
I spin her around, eyes set ablaze as I grab her, cementing her body against mine. I need to see her alive in my arms, and I need to hear her crying in pleasure and not pain.
Need her! So, so badly!
Nothing makes sense, not one plus one, not letters that could form words. Nothing but Mila, but tasting her and claiming her.
My mouth covers her in a feverish passion. Utter loss of control and sense of reality.
Peace.
The kiss, the taste of her on my lips, transports me to a different world entirely.
I wish we could stay, run away like she always wanted to, but running only provokes predators.
A soft sob fills my ears. Small hands grab at me, agreeing to plunge into this madness together.
Bliss!
Stupidity.
Regret.
Memories savored.
She matches my strokes, my desires, as she slips her hand inside my pants, grasping my hard cock. I ’ m so sensitive; it ’ s been so long since I ’ ve fucked her, since I ’ ve allowed myself the pleasure. A few hard jerks of her hand and I almost come.
The force of our passion takes the breath from my lungs, but the only cure, the only inhale that will fill my body and stop it from suffocating, is kissing her more.
More. More! That ’ s what she always wanted. More of me, more freedom. More!
Her mouth is like a sword wrapped in silk, safe to the touch until it slices you; tricks you. But then that pain is cradled in the gentleness of its silk walls again.
Again and again. Pain, then healing, restoring, then suffering.
A trap I would fall for time and time again.
Her hands roam over my body, begging me for more. More, more, more.
She was always so greedy.
Spinning her around, using the wall as my weapon to encase her, I grab her hands, trapping them above her head. Her legs shake with a desperate need for my hardness between them. To anchor her and stop her heart from drifting off in those perilous, uncharted waters.
I look down at her parted lips. I want them around my cock; I want her tears dripping down my thighs as I give her every greedy drop she begged for.
But we don ’ t have time.
This isn ’ t just about pleasure. It ’ s a need.
I ’ m dying, and I need to be inside of her to live, to chase away the words she spoke earlier.
Her eyes meet mine, full of longing and hope, fucking hope as if I could slowly make love to her up against the classroom wall.
No.
Love could never be. She needs to understand that.
“ If you want me, this is all you will get,” I warn her, pausing and removing my lips from her heated skin.
“ Think, little fox, this is all I can give you. Nothing more or a lot less. Take it or leave it.”
Leave it. Be smart this time. Remember what happened last time you made a deal with me?
Her wide eyes look into mine, searching. She still thinks she can change my mind as she nods.
“ It ’ s a mistake.” You should refuse me.
Fire might keep you warm, but too much can burn you, take everything from you, your shelter and food; it will leave you scarred and starving.
“ You will say it one day, Dash.” She murmurs with such hope that it feels like a new day dawning over a war-torn land. Vultures circle as the sun tries to blind them, banishing them far away.
When would she realize my love and hate were the same?
Too late, it seems.
If she is doomed to sink, it will be in my arms, holding her tight, teaching her how to breathe in the unforgiving murky waters.
Keeping her hands pin, I spin her around, pressing her chest against the wall. “ Dash,” she moans an angry hiss.
I won ’ t let her look me in the eye. I can ’ t; it weakens me too much.
“ Are you wet? How bad do you want me inside of you again?” I grab the waist of her leggings and pull them down. They make a satisfying snapping sound as they rest under her round ass.
The whole time she wore these leggings, she wasn ’ t wearing panties!
Fuck! I groan.
“ Do you dream of me, little fox, dream of me hunting you down, pinning you down while I make love to you? That ’ s what you want, isn ’ t it? My love entangled with the thrill of my hate?”
She nods, exposing her neck to me to kiss. Surrendering to the madness that was our love.
“ Can you handle my hate because that ’ s how I love, Mila?”
“ I ’ ve always been able to handle you, Dash King; it ’ s you who has struggled to handle me.” She replies as she pushes her ass out against my hips.
I shake visibly. How the tables have turned. Even though I was pinning her down, her words have trapped me.
“ Show me your hate, and I ’ ll give you my love, Dash. I ’ ll take it all from you and make it mine.”
“ Stop speaking, or I ’ ll fill your mouth with something else.” I press my lips to her neck, licking the length of it.
My right hand slides down her body over her smooth skin until it makes contact with her scar. Her abs clench under my touch. “ Take it away, Dash. Take those memories and make new ones with me.”
I slide my hand further, feeling the start of her heated entrance. “ This is what you want, isn ’ t it? To tempt me till I break. Broken things are covered in sharp edges, Mila; no part of you will remain unscathed.”
She thrusts her hips into the palm of my hand, grinding her core against my inner palm. “ We were always broken, Dash. I want to fix us.”
I slide my fingers up and down her entrance, feeling the heat and wetness coat my knuckles. Her trembles pull a grin to my lips. “ Were you this wet when he fucked you?” I hope that mentioning Dom will repulse me and make me step away. But then she speaks, and that hope is lost in a wildfire.
“ I know what you ’ re doing.” She jerks one of her hands free and slides it down over mine, taking control of it as she guides one of my fingers inside of her. There ’ s my little fox, clawing and fighting just like I remember.
“ I need you to fuck me,” her mouth parts open in glee, “ so hard I never think of him. Never think of the pain. I want to forget, Dash. Take my pain. Please,”
Did he hurt her when they fucked?
I never asked; I assumed she enjoyed it.
But what if it wasn ’ t always wanted? What if their relationship wasn ’ t how I perceived it? Did he force her?
“ Did he…” I swallow. I ’ ll find his bones, every single insignificant one, and crush them, making it not even dust to rest on the soil of this earth.
“ I gave him what I thought would help me move on. I hated every minute of it. I faked it. I never could be fake with you, Dash. You always saw inside of me.”
She tries to turn to face me, but I meet her lips with mine instead, not allowing her to see me entirely. We kiss and kiss as my fingers swirl around her sensitive peak; I bring her to the height of her pleasure, then slow it down. High and low. Pleasure and pain, moans of passion, then cries of a beggar.
Madness.
Power.
Insanity.
My toes curl as I sink my teeth into her neck, kissing and sucking. I lick along the curve right as I push my finger knuckle deep. She ’ s still so tight.
Mine.
She was always mine, and I need to fill her with my seed again so everyone knows.
I milk her with my fingers until she is a quivering mess, dripping down her clenched thighs. I want to lay her out on a canvas and paint her with this. Cover her in the depravity that is our passion.
“ Brace the wall and stick your hips out more.” I force my lungs to breathe to try to regain some control, so I don ’ t hurt her.
She does as I order.
I don ’ t need a condom. She ’ s on the pill.
Did she let him fuck her bare?
As if the tempest can read my thoughts, she whispers, “ Only you, Dash. Only you have had me like this. Only you have seen the real me. Had all of me.”
I stroke my already throbbing cock, needing to feel more pain. Thick veins bulge out as wetness beads at my tip. I guide myself to her entrance, spreading her from behind, her wetness drips down her thighs, coating me with her sweetness.
Just the touch of her against my cock, and that ’ s all it takes.
Time ceases, and thoughts halt.
I thrust inside of her, gluing our bodies together so tightly no one else ’ s memories would fit. I ’ ll fill every inch of her with me.
Me!
My body, my words, my promises, and lack thereof.
Loathing and devotion, dedication and lament.
A massive ache starts to throb deep within my core, spreading throughout my muscles until it wraps around my mind. The agony of it makes me want to cry, but I have long forgotten how to do that.
I pull out, hating the feeling of the cold air wrapping around my hardness and not her warm, tight body kissing it.
I shoved myself back in. Her body recoils, squeezing me. Grabbing a hold of me as it begs for me never to let her go.
Her nails scratch the wall peeling into the paint.I grin. I ’ ll take a picture of this wall so I can look at it whenever I need a fix.
“ Yes, Dash, please harder. Deeper.” Her exhales are wild and untamed.
“ I ’ ll break you,” I mutter as I mirror her hands, trapping mine over them against the wall. She only juts her ass out further, taunting me.
“ You ’ ll fix me. Yes, oh god, Dash. It ’ s always been you, always real with you. I never had to fake it. You took everything I hated and made me love it, made me love myself again. I love you, Dash, I love you!” She shouts so loud I place my hand over her mouth so no one else can hear.
Her body starts to spasm around my cock. “ This is all I can give you. Take it!” I growl as my body jolts, and I come buried deep inside of her. Her screams are trapped in the palm of my hand, forever mine.
Only mine.
She collapses into me, panting so deeply I ’ m worried she might pass out.
Then, time starts to tick again.
Tick.
You fucked up.
Tock.
It ’ s okay. We can fuck away our indignation as long as no one else knows. She made a deal with me. Agreed to this.
This is all I can give her. Stolen moments of raw passion are better than cold nights of suffering.
I wish I could pick her up, cradle her in my arms, carry her to my bed, and lick her clean, only to make her filthy again.
Instead, I need to show her the details of our bargain.
I step back and tuck myself back inside my pants. She turns dizzyingly to face me, her lips pulling up in a dazed happiness. “ Stay with me. I ’ ll skip class. Let ’ s go back to my dorm, " she suggests.
“ The anti-hero knows when to walk away in order to save people, Mila.” I begin, “ He doesn't always have to kill because that's easy; a hero would do what's easy. The anti-hero picks the hard road to walk down, and if you want me, then you'll have to endure walking this road beside me." I step back, eyes glancing at the door and not her face, which falls and fills with the reality of our heartbreak.
My voice cracks as I feel the need to say one last thing. "Sometimes the villain is the one who makes the kill, Mila. I can't allow that to happen. One day, you will understand. I can’t lose you.”
My little fox thinks she ’ s strong enough to endure this. I thought this would finally make her stop fighting for us, but the look of determination in her eyes says otherwise; it might just be the knife that plunges too deep into her heart. Eventually, she will stumble on this path we have both chosen to walk. When she does fall, I won't be able to help her; I can’t.
Turning, I walk away without looking back.