13. Orion
Orion
“ C an I light you a fire?”
Vince was slow to open his eyes, but quick to reach for his gun. He had it pointed at my face before the question was all the way out of my mouth, and I held my hands up to show I’d come unarmed.
“Considering I’m still recovering from a bullet to the chest, you can come put the barrel of my gun in your fucking mouth and make this easier for me,” he said.
My heart beat violently against my sternum, and I closed the space between us.
He spun his chair to the side and I met him behind his desk, going to my knees between his spread legs.
He lowered the gun to keep it at face level, and I tangled my fingers together behind my back and opened my mouth.
I hoped he would follow through. After a month of being away from him, a month of living with what I’d done, I wanted my life to end. It was what I deserved.
“You look like shit,” he murmured, pressing the gun against the center of my forehead, dragging it over to my temple.
I remembered the night he murdered his father he handled me much the same way.
It had been the start of the end, and I’d never hated myself more.
I’d never been more scared, more uncertain of my future.
And then over the two weeks after that, I saw my life unfold with a startling new clarity, saw a way to entertain the most depraved parts of myself without giving up my soul, and I’d ruined it.
My throat was dry, and I licked my lips before speaking, “I don’t think I’ve slept.”
“You surely haven’t shaved.” He let the gun wander lazily down the side of my face, scratching through the beard that had taken shape on my cheeks and my jaw. I hadn’t shaved since the day he fucked me. I hadn’t done a lot of things since that day.
“No,” I agreed.
Vince tilted his head to the side slowly, eyes tracking across my face while he studied me. I wanted to ask what he saw when he looked at me, but there was also a large part of me that didn’t want to know the answer.
“Were you behind it?”
“Yes.”
He pressed the gun against my lips and I opened for him again.
“Why? ”
I blinked hard and slow, tears welling up against the backs of my eyelids and escaping down my cheeks. I didn’t have an answer, so I took more of his gun into my mouth until I could smell his skin.
“Why?” he asked again. “I…I thought…”
I sobbed, choking around the barrel of the gun.
I tried to pull off, but Vince moved quick, fisting my hair and yanking me down so it reached the back of my throat.
Spit poured out of my mouth and snot from my nose, and I cried and cried and cried for what I’d done.
He didn’t loosen his hold on my hair until I got myself under control, and by then I’d made a mess of my face and his lap, and I didn’t have strength left to do anything besides rest my cheek on the top of his thigh and close my eyes.
With a muttered curse, he pulled the gun out of my mouth and threw it on the desk, and a fresh wave of tears slicked down my cheeks.
“I got too soft with you, Orion. I brought you to heel and neglected to keep you there.” Vince made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. “You didn’t know better, did you? This is my fault.”
“It’s not,” I protested, trying to pull back to look at him, but he forced my head down into his lap again.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
He shoved me out of the way and stood, and I crumbled onto the floor at his feet.
He kicked me in the ribs, and I curled into a ball, barely trying to hide my body from him as he kicked me a second time, and a third, a fourth, until he grimaced and grunted in pain.
Vince bent over and braced himself on the edge of his desk, staring at the wall instead of looking down at me.
I didn’t blame him. I didn’t want to see me either.
“Why are you here?” he asked, stepping over me and walking toward the fireplace. He joined his hands together behind his back, and I kissed the carpet he’d walked on to get there.
I came back because I was miserable without him.
Lonely and unhinged and scared. I knew that he was alive, but I didn’t have much information beyond that.
I’d been laying low for fear of his retribution, but I’d isolated myself from his affection, and in a very short amount of time, he’d managed to get me addicted to him.
The days had turned long and the nights were unmanageable.
I didn’t expect forgiveness—I wasn’t even sure I wanted it.
I’d shown up hoping he’d offer me mercy and put a bullet in my head to end my fucking misery.
“There’s nowhere else for me,” I answered.
“And what makes you think here is a place for you anymore?”
I pressed my forehead into the carpet and screwed my eyes shut, listening to the sound of Vince’s footfalls across the floor as he came back to me.
“Please forgive me,” I whispered, shaking my head. I reached forward until my fingertips grazed the tip of his shoe, desperate for him to touch me again.
He did, kicking me to the side and stepping onto my hand with all of his weight.
The bones in my fingers threatened to shatter, and I screamed, grabbing my wrist to stop myself from pulling away, thrashing beneath him as he twisted his foot, trying to grind my knuckles to dust. Vince let out a tired breath and finally put his shoe back onto the carpet, which didn’t help the situation any.
Pain seared up my arm, and what did it say about me that I would have tolerated it a thousand times over?
That I would have begged for it.
“Get up,” he said, kicking the inside of my elbow.
I cried out and scrambled to my feet, my arm limp at my side.
Vince went to the desk and holstered his gun, the look he gave me so murderous, the weapon only felt like overkill.
“If you can pay your penance, I’ll entertain the idea.
If not, I promise what comes next will be worse than death.
Now get the fuck out of my office, Orion. We’re going to church.”