Chapter 17
SABLE
"What is this place?" I asked. The small house was derelict, probably unsafe.
Wallpaper was peeling off the walls. The corner of the floor was sloped downward, like the foundation was collapsing.
Rotting away, if I had to guess. The only thing that lived here were the termites.
If they lived with what I'd bet was asbestos and lead based paint.
"You don't like it?" Woody said sarcastically. "I thought it was a fucking palace."
"That's an interesting perspective," I said. Rats might have found it palatial.
He sneered at me and shoved me deeper into the house. He hadn’t had much to say since he'd pinned me to the wall back in the city, his hand around my throat. He'd growled at me, literally growled, before grabbing my phone from my hand and shoving me into a car.
Every time we stopped at a traffic light, I'd tried the door, but it remained firmly locked.
My phone rang a bunch of times, but he'd shoved it into his pocket, ignoring it. Was Leif trying to contact me? Forrest? Were they worried?
I shouldn't have walked away from Leif. Okay, it was easy to say that in hindsight. Of course if I'd known this would happen, I wouldn't have.
Would Leif have stopped Woody from taking me, though? I didn't know the answer to that.
This whole situation was way too fucked up.
"Let me guess," I said lightly, "you brought me here to tell me how you're going to redecorate this place. That was what Leif did. I can think of a few suggestions."
Tearing the place down for one. The house was clearly a historic building, but way beyond repair.
"I don't need any suggestions," Woody said. "Have Forrest and Leif told you about me?" He reclined against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.
I was surprised the wall held his weight.
"Let me see," I said slowly. "Leif said you were an asshole. They both said you tried to kill them. I think one of them might have said something about you holding grudges, possibly something about jumping to conclusions."
He grunted and lowered his arms.
"They didn't tell you I like to set things on fire?" The expression on his face made my blood run cold.
"I don't believe they mentioned that, no," I said. "Did you bring some marshmallows?"
He snorted a laugh. "You won't be needing any marshmallows. I know what you're thinking, this place should be burned to the ground. As it happens, I agree."
"You brought me all the way out here to help you set this place on fire?" I asked.
"No. Would you?" He frowned like he was trying to figure me out.
I didn't know how to respond. I'd rather set fire to a house than burn down with it.
"What have you got to get it started?" I asked.
He squinted at me, then shook his head. "It doesn't matter. You know why I brought you here."
"You thought I had the marshmallows?" I asked.
I shouldn't provoke him, but maybe he'd see I was harmless after all. He might let me walk out the door before he set fire to all of this dry, dead wood.
"Did you?" He shook his head as if annoyed with himself for asking. "You know what, it doesn't matter. You could have a six-pack of beer in your bag, and it wouldn't change anything."
"Unfortunately, I don't," I said. "I don't tend to carry beer around with me." Valium, yes. Alcohol, no. I should have packed something stronger.
"Has anyone told you you have a smart mouth?" He stalked toward me, forcing me to take a handful of steps back.
"Not recently," I said.
I never gave Wolfgang cause to. I knew better than to provoke him. He would have made me regret every word, with bruises.
Woody kept stalking forward until my back touched the drywall.
I grimaced at how spongy it was. I could have fallen through it.
He wrapped his hand around my throat.
"You have a smart fucking mouth," he whispered harshly.
A thrill of fear went up my spine. I should have been terrified, but my heart was racing.
All he had to do was squeeze, hold my throat hard enough, and I'd run out of oxygen. I'd slump to the floor and he'd set fire to the building, leaving my body to be turned into ashes.
He didn't. He held me there like that, his eyes locked onto mine. What was stopping him from killing me right now? What was that poking into my hip? Was he really hard from all but choking me?
I must have imagined the pulse in my pussy beating faster. For fuck's sake he wanted to kill me.
"What is it with you?" he whispered. "I hate you but…" His brow creased.
"I hate you too," I whispered back. "So much."
"Shut up." His mouth crashed down onto mine, lips devouring me like he hadn't eaten in a lifetime. Instead of strangling me or burning me, he'd satisfy his ravenous appetite.
I found myself kissing him back, giving as good as I got, savoring the feeling of his stubble rough against my skin, wanting more.
His hand tightened around my throat while the other went to my hip, pulling me hard against him
I groaned. It was all I could do not to throw my legs around his hips and grind myself against him.
He rubbed the front of his jeans against me, his cock getting harder.
I wanted him to tear off my clothes and ram himself inside me. I bet his cock was nice and thick. He'd fill me all the way up, slam into me until I screamed.
He groaned and wrenched himself away from me, stalking a few steps away before turning back and rubbing a hand over the back of his head.
"What the fuck?" he muttered to himself. "You're making me lose my fucking mind."
"I didn't do anything," I said breathlessly. My whole body throbbed from where he'd touched me. My throat was cold, already missing the touch of his hand, his rough skin.
"Why did you let me bring you here?" he asked.
"Excuse me?" I blinked a couple of times and stared at him. "I don't remember you giving me a choice."
"You could have screamed or…" He kneaded the back of his neck. "Something."
"Victim blaming is very uncool," I said. "You're the one who pushed me into your car. If you didn't want me here, you shouldn't have done that. I could have gone about my day. Living my life. I still could."
I inched toward the door.
"Don't even fucking try," he growled. He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the back of the house.
"Right, we were going to set fire to this place first, weren't we?" I said lightly.
I still wasn't thinking straight. I liked the way his fingers felt wrapped around my wrist. How would it feel to have him wrap both of his hands around my wrists, to pin me to a mattress while fucking my brains out?
He wants you dead, I reminded myself.
I was having a difficult time believing that. If he really wanted me dead, wouldn't I be dead already? Unless he wanted to torture me first. That wasn't a welcome thought.
"Would now be a good time to remind you I didn't kill your father?" I asked while he dragged me through the house. The smell of mould lingered in the air, musky and nauseating. I was starting to get a headache. It might have been from that, and it might be from him.
"I still don't believe you," he said over his shoulder. "You did something to him and you're trying to do it to me, Forrest and Leif."
"I promise I'm not," I said. "If they like me, it's not because I'm doing…whatever it is you think I'm doing. What is that, by the way?"
"Witchcraft," he said.
"You think maybe I went to the cemetery at midnight and danced naked to make some kind of love spell?"
He looked back at me and frowned. Clearly the word ‘naked’ caught his attention.
There was more where that came from.
"Did you know, the more a witch makes her breasts jiggle, the stronger the spell?" I wiggled my chest back and forth.
His gaze dropped down to my breasts before he turned away.
"There's no such thing as witchcraft," he said.
"Is that why you're planning on burning me? Isn’t that what they do to witches?"
"There's…" he started, then shook his head. "You know what? Close your mouth. You're not making this better for yourself."
"I'm not making it any worse," I pointed out. "Either way, you're going to try to kill me."
"I'm not going to try," he said darkly.
"Right. Either way you're going to kill me," I corrected.
As if there was a significant difference.
"You know Forrest is going to be upset with you, right? Leif too, possibly." I wasn't so sure about that. He seemed to like me, but all of those questions made me wonder. He wouldn't be the first person to have an agenda, a story they wanted to sell, even if that story was someone else's.
"They'll get over it," he said.
"Are you sure?" I asked. "Because I got the impression Forrest really, really likes me. He might hurt you if you do anything to me. He might burn the world down for me. He might—"
"This isn't BookTok," Woody said.
"You don't believe men like that exist in the real world?" I asked.
"I don't think about it that much," he said. He pulled me into what was once the kitchen.
"Wow, this looks like it hasn't been redecorated since 1947. 1952 at the latest." Yep, that was asbestos wrapped around a duct visible through a huge hole in the wall.
"It hasn't," Woody said. "It was my great-grandparents' place. No one's lived here in a couple of decades."
"I can tell," I said. "It's not exactly what you call 'fit for habitation.' You know, you could have it torn down."
"Burning it down would be more fun," he said.
"I disagree," I said. "Imagine a big excavator with a massive bucket slamming into the side of the building, pulling it down, piece by piece.
The whole thing crumbling apart like a sandcastle when you kick it over or step on it.
I think it'd be extremely satisfying." If anything was left after asbestos remediation.
"You've never watched a house burn down, have you?" he asked.
"No, but now I'm curious," I said, clutching at what might be my last straw. "We can watch this place go up together."
He smirked and led me over to a Roman-style column to the side of the room.
I guessed it was there to support the upper level.
Out of his pocket he grabbed a pair of handcuffs. He snapped one around my wrist, pulled the other around the column before snapping it around the other wrist, locking me in place.
"As first dates go, I have to say, the ending is disappointing," I said.
I pulled against the column. It shifted slightly.
"This isn't a date," he said.
"Are you sure? Because it feels like a date," I said. "I mean, you kissed me."
We'd both liked it.
"That was a mistake. See you in hell."
"That sounds accurate," I said as he stomped toward the back door. "I'm sure it won't be long until you join me down there."
That was the last of my humor.
He closed the door behind him.
I waited until the smell of smoke tickled my nostrils. Then I started to scream.