Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Catarina
His fingers dig into my arm and I can tell I’m going to be sore tomorrow.
It’ll probably even bruise. But that’s the least of my worries, or it should be.
He just made me suck off his hand. What the actual fuck was that?
I lick my lips, still tasting him on my tongue.
The bitter salt of sweat mixed with copper from the blood on his palm.
Somehow that wasn’t even the worst part.
The worst part was the moment I’m trying not to think about—the sliver of a second where I liked it.
My nipples are still tight from feeling him grind into me. When he yanked my hair back, I should have wanted to scream out in pain, not pleasure.
“You were seriously going to let me pass out?” He cocks his head at me.
“No.” His lips curl. “You were going to choose to pass out.”
My voice is dry. “What kind of bullshit is that?”
He doesn’t reply, he just keeps us moving through the halls. The only sound I hear are the heels of my shoes clicking against the floor. The tension between us grows with every step. Every now and then I catch him glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.
“This is the library.” He gestures to a room filled with towering shelves of books. The air smells of ink and dust, and I hate how quiet it is.
“Wow.” I motion toward them. “I thought all of these were just for decoration.” He doesn’t bother reacting. He just walks away leaving me to scramble after him.
Our next stop is the dining hall, long tables are scattered throughout, and not in any particular pattern. “Do you host many dinner parties?”
His eyes narrow. “No.”
I roll mine. “You’re not exactly the most charming tour guide.”
“And your welcome wore off the second you opened your mouth,” he shoots back. My pulse still hasn’t leveled out since he tried to kill me, but I step into him anyway.
“Maybe I’m just more than you can handle.” He traces his thumb against my lips and warmth slides between my thighs.
“That mouth of yours. It’s always moving, isn’t it?
” His hand shifts and he pinches my cheeks together until my lips pucker.
“Sooner or later I’m going to find a better use for it.
” I stare at him, holding my breath, thinking he might say something else—or even better, do something—before I feel his hand fall away.
I walk fast to catch up with him. He doesn’t say anything until we stop in front of a light wooden door, and he asks, “Did he give you your key?” I reach in, pulling it out of my pocket before shoving it into his chest, pausing for a moment to take in his features.
The longer wispy pieces of his dark hair fall in his face, which looks like it has been chiseled out of stone.
His eyes are encased by thick lashes. He grabs the key from my hand and slides it into the lock; the door creaks open, revealing a room lit up by the sun shining through the pale curtains. His body turns. “After you.”
I walk into the room before spinning back to see him standing just inside the doorway.
He leans against the frame with his arms crossed, like he doesn’t have a care in the world, yet his eyes follow my movements, causing prickles to form on my arms. I roll my eyes before closing them and resting my back against the tall dresser.
I relax my shoulders before I reopen them and take in the room. It’s grubby and austere, practically a prison cell pretending to be a bedroom. I look over at Zedediah. “Charming,” I mutter. “What, no bars on the windows?”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Bars wouldn’t make a difference. You’re not going anywhere. Honestly, you should just be thankful he gave you a door.”
My irritation flares and I push off the dresser in his direction.“Oh right, sorry, I should be so grateful.”
I dramatically drop to my knees, press my hands together and bow my head.
“Thank you, Father Fenris, for your generosity. What a blessing.” I lift my head, only to see he’s pushed off the frame.
Every muscle in his face is locked tight, except for his jaw that is currently grinding.
Oh, he is seething. A smile creeps across my face before I continue, wondering just how far I can go.
“And thank you, Brother Zedediah, for delivering me straight to my own personal hell.”
He’s calm when he turns away, softly shutting the door before walking over to me. He looks down at me, and I realize what a mistake this was, his face is telling me more than words ever could. He crouches down, getting on my level. “Now, what have I told you about that mouth of yours?”
I lift my chin higher in defiance. “Aw, what about it? Gonna run and tell your daddy?” His fists curl, and before I can do anything, he hauls me up and slams me into the wall. The impact knocks all the air out of me, and pain rips through my spine.
“You can scream in here if you want. Sound doesn’t really carry in this wing.” I blink, trying to clear the burn from behind my eyes when he pats me on the head. “I made the bed myself, try not to mess it up. Unless…” He winks at me. “It’s the kind of mess you need help making.”
He goes to walk out the door, and I can barely hear what he says.
“You’re going to make this harder than it needs to be.
On the both of us.” He inhales a deep breath, his voice rising to a normal level.
“Oh, and you can lock the door if it makes you feel safer.” He leaves without another word, closing the door with a soft click.
I walk to the bed and plop down, an exhausted sigh leaves my lips.
Harder on the both of us. What does that even mean?
I wish I hadn’t let them take my bags, but I’m seeing now that I probably had less of a choice than I thought. I stare at the dusty ceiling with the weight of the day lying on my chest and close my eyes, allowing my mind to replay the day—a movie I can’t turn off.
I hear Dad’s voice and taste the blood in my mouth from biting my tongue so hard. “Maybe someone like him can fix whatever’s wrong with you.You’re not the daughter we raised.”
I yell back at him, “And you’re not the dad who raised me!” I struggle through tears. “He would hate to know you.” The knock on the door cuts through the silence that lingers between us. The driver of the van stands in the doorway.
“You’ll have to be firm with her. She’s always had a problem with authority.” I flinch as the man wraps his hands around my arm.
I hear my dad laugh. “Told you she’s dramatic. Tell him to do what we couldn’t. Beat it out of her if he has to.”
I tore away from him and ran. Just get to the trees. Get to the tree line and disappear. Get there before he gets you. My poor attempt was just that, an attempt. Fenris’ minion caught me, threw me in the van, and threatened to hog-tie me. I watched as Dad ushered Mom inside without a word.
The look of disapproval on their faces wasn’t about the dirt on my face or the force being used on me. It was because I had the audacity to question authority, like always. I watched Dad shut the door and the reality settled in. Their love was a leash, and I had finally chewed through it.
Somewhere between the porch and main road I decided that if it was that easy for them to cut me out of their world, I could carve them out of mine. They stopped existing the moment I stopped needing them.