Chapter 19 Everett
NINETEEN
EVERETT
Sixteen years old
I’m dragged into a room and shoved onto a metal chair that’s bolted to the floor. I rub my hands up and down my arms, trying to warm myself up, but they’re grabbed and brought behind my back. The sound of the zip tie fills the room as the hard nylon cuts into my skin.
I wish they’d at least give me a jacket. I hate it down here. It’s always freezing.
“Hello, Eve.” The woman enters with a smile, and I groan. Not this bitch again. I’m going to bite her for real next time she touches me. “How are you feeling today?”
I look away, refusing to answer, and a hand fists my hair, forcing my face down onto the table. Smashing my cheek into the steel. “You speak when you’re spoken to,” the man orders.
“Yes, sir,” I growl through gritted teeth. I’m so tired of them thinking they can control everything I do.
He lets go of me and I sit up, wishing I could push the hair from my face but settling for trying to blow it out of my way instead. “I’m feeling good.” I tell her what she wants to hear.
“Wonderful.” She beams, and the door opens.
I tense when my father joins the party. “A word. Now,” he orders the woman.
She gets up and goes to the back of the room while I remain seated.
“Still nothing?” I hear her speak softly.
“No.” My father’s friend snaps. “What’s with all that garden shit? It should have worked by now.”
She sighs. “There are many reasons as to why…” Her voice lowers, and I can’t make out what she says.
“If you’re no use to me, then why the fuck are you here?” my father snaps, not caring that I can hear him.
The woman mumbles softly, and again, I can’t hear her.
“Isn’t that like a test tube thing?” His friend laughs. “What’s the point of knocking up a woman if you can’t use your dick to get the job done?”
I wiggle in the cold seat, trying to fight the zip tie, but it’s no use. I’ve come to like the pain they make me feel.
“You have to start considering other options. Her health isn’t…ideal.” The woman goes on whispering. “She may technically be a woman, but she’s still a child. She’s malnourished and irregular…her body is telling you it’s not ready.”
“So you’re suggesting that we try shooting her up with hormones?” My father sounds skeptical.
“I’m saying don’t put all your eggs in one basket,” she insists.
His friend laughs. “Isn’t that the point?”
“Unbelievable,” she mutters softly.
The door opens and a third man enters. He looks over my head at the back of the room. “Your son is looking for you.” He glances at me. “I told him to wait for you upstairs.”
“Christ,” the man hisses. “I’ll be right back.”
My eyes open, pulling me out of that nightmare, and I stare at the ceiling. Reaching over, I pick up my cell and see it is almost midnight. I get up and walk to the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of Jack and a shot glass out of the freezer, I fill it to the brim and throw it back, hissing in a breath.
My eyes catch sight of the flowers sitting in the center of the kitchen table.
They mock me.
I let Kashton fuck me, and he sends me flowers? What the fuck is up with that?
I’ve never received flowers in my life. What do I do with them?
You water them so they can grow.
I want to vomit at the ironic metaphor.
Why would I want to water them? They’re just going to die. Like everything else in this world. You’re just prolonging the inevitable.
Grabbing the bottle, I leave the shot glass and stomp my way to my bathroom. I need to break some shit, but first I have to get ready.
I spend the next couple of hours shaving my entire body, doing my skin care routine, hair, and makeup, as if I’m planning on going out to the bar to take a man home to fuck.
You’ve got to give them something to stare at. While their hands are on your ass and their eyes are on your tits, your finger should be on the trigger. They’ll never see it coming.
Once ready, I return to the kitchen, grab another two bottles of liquor, and make my way down to my basement.
I unlock the door and descend the stairs, my heels clapping on the hardwood. Flipping on the light, I smile, looking around at all the stuff that was once beautiful before I destroyed it. I pick up the mallet that hangs on the wall that has fuck with me written in red lipstick on the handle.
Throwing back a drink of the liquor, I set the bottle down on the counter to my right and pull up something to listen to on my phone, and “Wonderland” by Natalia Kills fills the large space.
KASHTON
I wanted to see my girl tonight. After my talk with Adam and how upset she was after we had sex, I needed to see her.
Push her a little more.
Pulling up to her house, I enter like I’ve been here a million times.
No more hiding in her closet. No more letting her think she can get away. I’ll chain her up before I allow her to leave me.
The sound of thundering bass hits my ears as I walk through her living room. I catch sight of the flowers I sent her on the kitchen table and smile.
Following the sound of the music, I make my way to the back of the house and come to a door that’s cracked. Shoving it open, I hear her scream over the music, and I rush down the stairs, only to slow when she comes into view.
“So Called Life” by Three Days Grace blares while she adjusts her grip on the handle of a mallet before she swings it at a glass vase that sits on a wooden table in the center of the room, letting out another scream.
I drop my bag at my feet, cross my arms over my chest, and lean against the wall, letting my eyes devour her. I’ve never seen anything more stunning.
My woman is such an angry angel. This is what my version of heaven would look like if I ever had the chance to see it—beautiful chaos.
She’s got on a pair of black high heels that could be used as weapons on their own, each covered in little black spikes about an inch long with a silver chain that drapes across the back of the heels.
Her lean legs are wrapped in black fishnet tights, and her black leotard dips low in the front, showcasing her perfect tits. And she tops it all off with a matching studded belt that sits at an angle on her hips.
Her bleached-blond hair is down and in big curls, and she’s got a lot of makeup layered on her face, like she does when she meets men at the biker bar.
She looks like the best fucking wet dream I could ever have. The song comes to an end, and I speak before the next one begins. “Bad night?”
She spins around, her hair slapping her in the face. She slides one high heel out and drops the mallet to her side, resting the tip on the floor. “What in the fuck are you doing here?” Her wide green eyes meet mine as the song changes to “Crazy House” by Princess Nokia.
“Came to see you.”
“How do you know where I live?” Throwing her head back, she gives a manic laugh at her own question. “Don’t even bother answering that.”
I wasn’t going to.
Picking up the mallet, she holds it out in front of her, pointing to the stairs. “Leave.”
“I think I’ll stay,” I inform her, my lips twitching to keep from smiling at her.
She huffs, eyes dropping to the bag at my feet before they meet mine again. “When will this end?”
“When I die,” I respond truthfully.
Her eyes narrow for a brief second. “I won’t miss this time.”
I hold my arms out wide. “Go ahead. Give it a second try.” She doesn’t have a gun on her at the moment, otherwise I know she would do it. That mallet can do some damage, though.
Huffing, she growls, “Goddammit, Kash.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, she adds, “There has to be something. Name it.” Her hand falls, and she peers at me. “What can I do to get you to go away?”
“Nothing.”
Rolling her eyes, she runs a hand through her hair, pushing it off her face. Then she struts over to me. When she leans in, I think she’s going to kiss me. Instead, she grabs the bottle of Jack Daniel’s from behind me.
Stepping away from me, she wraps her red-painted lips around the bottle and tosses it back. I watch her throat work as she swallows the liquor. Some drips from her red-painted lips, falling down her neck and between her breasts.
I’m so fucking hard, imagining my cock being the reason she drools all over herself.
“How much have you had to drink?” I look around, noticing the other empty bottles lying around. Who knows how old they are. My eyes go back to her.
Taking a few more steps backward, she pulls the bottle from her lips. Gasping, she rubs her chin before dropping the bottle to her side. “You”—she points the bottle at me—“are a problem.”
“I take that as a compliment.” I smirk at her.
Spinning around, she gives me her back, and my eyes fall to her perfectly round ass covered in her fishnet tights. The leotard doesn’t cover much more than a thong does, and I imagine ripping it off her.
“Kash,” she growls.
“Angel,” I say.
“Fuck me.” Her tone is clearly pissed, but the invitation is there.
“That’s my plan.”
Turning back to face me, she bares her teeth, tosses up the bottle, and swings the mallet at it. Glass shatters and what liquor was left splatters across the room, getting in her hair and on her clothes.
I reach down, grab my bag, and walk over to her, deciding now is a good time to show her there are other ways to let out aggression.
“What are you really doing here, Kash?” she demands. “You here to fuck? You want sex? Go get it from a whore. I’m sure you’ve got several lined up.”
I ignore her. “I came to play with you.” I toss my bag onto the wooden table. I rip the mallet from her hand and toss it on there too. “Turn around,” I order, getting a better look at her.
She’s got her bottle-green eyes lined with thick black liner on the top and bottom. It makes them look bigger.
Her hard eyes hold mine. I let her have the inner battle with herself—should she fight me, make me force her, or should she just give in?
I smile when she turns around. I unzip my bag and grab what I need, then brush her long curls off her back and out of my way to rest over her shoulder. “Hands behind your back.”
She crosses them at the wrists, and I slide the black leather belt around her upper arms and tighten it in place. Then I place another shorter one around her forearms before I turn her to face me.
She lifts her chin. “What’s the matter, Kashton? Afraid I’m going to hurt you?” Her pretty green eyes glance around the basement before they find mine again. “I don’t have any sedatives on me at the moment. Feel free to search me if you want.”
I reach up and run my thumb over her red-painted lips. “You can do whatever you want to me, angel,” I tell her honestly.
She swallows at my confession. I’ve waited my whole life for this woman—the one I’d die for. The one who makes it all worth it.
“Make Me (Cry)” by Noah Cyrus and Labrinth fills the room, and I drop my hand, picking up a broken piece of glass stuck to her alcohol-covered chest. “You should pick a new hobby. One less…hazardous. May I suggest knitting? At the very least, you should wear face protection.”
She graces me with a white-toothed smile.
It’s condescending and abso-fucking-lutely adorable.
“I’ve bled before, Kash, and I’m still alive.
” Then she leans forward, sticks out her tongue, and slowly licks the whiskey off the thick piece of glass that I hold between my fingers… all while her eyes hold mine.
I didn’t think my dick could get any harder, but she’s just proved me wrong. Although I know it’s a front. She’s fucking with me. After I’m done with her tonight, she’ll be on her knees in the bathroom hating herself for letting me fuck her.
If I was a good man, I would leave her alone. But I’m not and I won’t. I can help her. Show her it’s okay to be mine.
I also never walk away from a challenge.
“Is that what you want, Eve? Want me to make you bleed?” I ask, placing the tip of the sharp glass to her racing pulse.
She arches her neck, giving me easier access to her throat. “If that’s what gets you off.” She bats her long fake lashes. “We all need something to make us feel alive.”
I drop my hand, and she lowers her head to meet my stare.
Her eyes hold so many secrets. I wish I could force them from her lips.
My hand drops to my side, and I run the tip of the glass up her thigh, hooking it into her fishnet tights, making sure I don’t cut her while I let the glass slice through the thin material.
Her eyes soften and her breathing picks up, no doubt at the realization of how easily I could cut her if I choose to.
I tilt my head to the side. “You like pain, angel?”
“You want to hurt me, Kash?” Another challenge.