Chapter 9 #3
Unease washes through me as I turn to look, but of course he won’t let me see him unless he wants me to see him. When I turn back to Atticus, he’s looking past me, like he felt it too. Really, should we even be remotely surprised he knows how to find us?
I slip my phone back in my pocket as I realize that the go-karts did a splendid job of aggravating my wounds, but it was worth it.
As soon as Atticus is hauled back, I rush over, thankful I can no longer feel anyone watching us. It’s not like he’d hang around or join in on our fun; he just wanted us to know he’s here. For him, there was no sense in staying once he’d accomplished that.
Atticus unhooks his safety belt and climbs out before looking at the slightly terrified guy who helped him and saying, “I really wish I was as pretty as him,” then nodding at me.
The man is flabbergasted. He has absolutely no idea how he’s supposed to respond to such a thing. He’s been whiplashed between horror and confusion, and I’m here for it.
Atticus’s eyes catch mine as he walks up to me. “I see that you are pleased.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t get to hear you confess your lack of beauty to that man. Please do it again.”
“You said once.”
“No! I said you had to announce it to everyone for the rest of the night.”
He scowls at me while I debate how else I could abuse him, but the idea of going home is starting to sound preferable, which pisses me off. I have Atticus to torture for twenty-four hours and I’m going to sleep for twenty of them?
“I want your blood,” I demand.
“What? We’re surrounded by people to feed from. Go allure one.”
“You dare deny me what I want before you toss my corpse in a ditch somewhere? We all know you’re not splurging on the cardboard box you’re putting my body in.”
His expression tells me that he’s had enough of this but still, he heads off for the bathrooms as I beam and follow him. He finds a private bathroom that we walk into, then he slams the door shut and locks it before turning to me.
Atticus takes my hand while I wonder whether I’m about to be pulled right into his arms for some magical reason. Instead, he pushes up my sleeve and peels the bandage off my arm.
“This is ridiculous. How the hell have you not healed yet? What the fuck was in that poison?” he asks. “Are you still even a vampire?”
“Of course I’m a vampire! It’s healing. Just slowly. Now blood?”
He’s almost transfixed by my arm. “If you use the poison on him, you might not even need a cardboard coffin.”
“Why? Because he’ll be so pissed that he’ll shred me to such small chunks there’ll be nothing to fill the cardboard box with? Ooh, you could use a shoebox at that point.”
I go to pull my arm back, but he holds it tightly, still staring at the wound, and I can only imagine he’s fixated on the idea of all of the people he could poison. Then he gently lays the gauze back down and carefully bandages my arm.
I gasp. “Do you… do you care about me? How sad!”
Atticus scoffs. “I’ve only ever cared about myself since the day I was born. There was that one time I cared about a dog for a while, but when he died of old age, I went back to only caring about myself.”
“I can see why the women and men just aren’t lining up for you.”
“Where is your harem? They come for your looks but leave the moment they see your true personality?”
I glare at him and shove his head to the side. “Let me bite you.”
He gives me his hand which I frown at, wanting to bite his neck.
“Who knows where this hand has been or how many people have chewed on it. I want your throat.”
“In the hope you can rip it out?” Atticus bites his own wrist and presses it against my lips.
I grumble at him but quickly lick up a drop of blood that had begun to trail down his wrist. I never knew vampire blood could taste so good.
So addicting. I’ve craved it ever since he fed it to me back at the twins’ house.
Anytime I’ve drunk human blood since, it’s tasted extremely bland.
I would never let him know that, of course.
My eyes flick up and catch him staring at me as the sweet taste of his blood fills my mouth.
His expression is so sharp, so condescending, yet still…
I don’t know if it’s because the taste of his blood is so intoxicating, but my cock begins to harden while my mind wanders to the idea of him using his free hand to slide my pants down before he pushes me against the door and fucks me hard.
Horror tears through me when I realize what atrocities just trampled across my mind. Like what the hell is this? I thought I’d firmly squashed any thoughts of that long ago.
I spin around, yank open the door, and hurriedly leave the bathroom. I’m on autopilot as I rush out of the building and back to the car.
After a minute or two, Atticus gets into the car and looks over at me. “Are we finished?”
He can’t possibly know that I was thinking about him fucking me against the door. He can’t. It was the blood. The blood made me do it. There’s something intoxicating about it. There was absolutely no other reason for any of it.
“I was bored with that. I want to do something else.”
“Oh?” He leans over to get nearer to me, and the closer he gets, the more my desire spikes. “Or was it the fact that you wanted me to fuck you?”
“Ha! I would become a monk before I would let you anywhere near my ass. Now go tell someone I’m prettier than you.”
Atticus rolls the window down as a family walks by and goes, “I sure wish I was as pretty as him, don’t you?”
His presence immediately puts them on edge and his words greatly confuse them while they scurry off, and I feel significantly better about everything.
“Have you gotten your fill of things?” he asks.
“Not quite,” I mutter, but I feel tired and achy, so I sigh and lean against the door. “Fine, let’s go to my home.”
He happily drives me there with the clear intention of kicking me out. But when the car stops, I turn it off and force him to get out. He complies just so he can go stare at that precious car of his I’d driven into the side of my garage.
“I see Johnny fixed the front door.”
“What happened to it?” I ask as I swing it back and forth, confused.
Atticus only shrugs.
He eventually joins me inside my house and tsks in disdain. “The state of this place sickens me.”
I look around, unsure what’s wrong with it. “It’s all your money could afford.”
“And how did you pay for this?”
I just smile and grab a bag to toss some clothes into while he stalks around the house.
“I will sell it.”
“I’ll have to move back in with you if you do.”
That immediately stops that line of thought as I toss him my bag.
“Why are you going back to Casimir’s when you have a house here?”
“Because I get doted on there.”
Atticus doesn’t look impressed but dutifully carries my bag out to the car.