Chapter Eighteen
The Longing Inside Me
After Mastyx’s sudden departure, I found myself thinking of him often over the next few days. Is that why he did what he did? Is that why he made me feel so much pleasure? Did he do it to make me long for him? Make me crave his presence?
I shake off the thought and continue setting the dining room table for my parents. Mom called me up a few hours ago and invited me over for dinner. Since I was caught up on my projects, I said yes.
It’s hot as fuck in here, but I didn’t want to wear short sleeves on account of the red marks on my wrists from Mastyx’s grip. This shirt has thumb holes, which I like, but it’s a pain when it’s time to do the dishes.
My dad carries a platter with a spiral ham balanced on top, and Mom is hot on his heels with a massive bowl of mashed potatoes.
She sets them down and disappears through the doorway, heading back to the kitchen as my dad sits at the head of the table.
He picks up a stray piece of ham that fell onto the tablecloth and stuffs it into his yap.
I smile at him as my mom sweeps into the room carrying steaming peas in one hand and fresh-baked biscuits in the other, setting them down on either side of the ham platter.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Mom says, sitting at the opposite end of the table from my dad. “I made a bunch.” She shakes her napkin into her lap and raises her eyebrows. “I made an apple pie for dessert as well.”
“Thanks for dinner,” I say, reaching over and resting my hand on hers.
She pulls her hand away and waves it in the space between us. “Yeah, yeah, come on, let’s eat before it gets cold.”
My dad wastes no time, stabbing the pile of sliced ham, picking up four pieces and dropping them on his plate. He stabs two slices and drops them on mine. “There you go, kiddo.”
“Thanks.” I take the fork from him, pick up a slice, and place it on my mom’s plate. She eyes my dad, frowning at the pile of mashed potatoes he filled his plate with before covering them with a pile of peas.
I clear my throat to get his attention and nod toward Mom. “I think she’d like for you to save some food for the rest of us.”
My mom sighs heavily. “Actually, I was just thinking about how much salt and calories you just filled your plate with. You know what the doctor said about your sodium.”
Dad rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on. If you didn’t want me to eat so much sodium, you would have made chicken instead of ham.”
He has a valid point. My mom rocks her jaw and extends her hand, gesturing to the potatoes. “Pass me the potatoes before your father hogs them all.”
I take a small spoonful and set it beside her. She takes about the same amount as I pass her the peas. We eat in silence for what feels like an eternity before my dad finally says, “So, how’s the death art business going? You still making money?”
“It’s been great. I’m making more and more every day.”
“Good,” Mom says, taking a small bite of ham before resting her fork on the side of her plate.
I take a massive bite of potatoes and excuse myself to go to the bathroom.
The door closes softly behind me, and I stare at the mirror above the sink.
A flash of Mastyx’s face appears in the mirror, and I leap back, clutching my chest. “What the fuck?” I blink several times and realize I’m fucking imagining it.
I sit on the toilet and let out a long-winded sigh as my urine stream starts to flow.
My mind drifts to the moment the Bomb Pop pressed inside me, and my legs clamp closed. “Stop it, Contessa,” I murmur to myself.
The door rattles with a quick knock. “Tessa, are you okay?”
I swipe my face with my palm. “Yeah, Mom, just using the toilet.”
Geez, I can’t even use the bathroom for more than a few minutes without everyone worrying. “I’ll be right out.” I flush the toilet, wash my hands, and gaze at my reflection. I don’t look like a sinner, but I’m certainly acting and feeling like one lately.
Mastyx calls me his Little Sinner, and I’ve grown to like my pet name. Every time he growls it, it sends chills down my spine and a tingle between my legs.
Stop, just stop, I say to myself as I dry my hands and whip the bathroom door open. When I round the corner, I run straight into my dad, clutching his abdomen. “Eat too much, too fast again?” I say, shaking my head.
“Yep.” He curves around me, enters the bathroom and slams the door.
He’ll never learn.
When I enter the dining room, my mom has already cleared most of the dishes, including the one I hadn’t finished, and placed a piece of apple pie in its place, with a fork resting beside it. “What are you waiting for?” she asks. “Dig in.”
She’s rushing me, and I don’t know why. “Mom, what’s the rush?” I ask as I take my seat and cut into the pie with the side of my fork.
“Well, there’s a new movie on Lifetime tonight, and I thought if we wrapped up dinner early, you would stick around and watch it with me.”
Oh, I get it now, she misses me and knows Dad won’t watch it with her. I think they don’t know what to do with each other now that I am out of the house. I smile at her. “Of course I’ll stay.”
Her face brightens. “Really?”
“Yes, Mom. You know I can’t turn down a fresh and new based-on-a-true-story Lifetime movie.”
Dad enters the room. “So, are you sticking around after dessert, kiddo?” He sits in his chair and eyes the pie across the table.
Mom slides it closer to her. “You need to let your dinner digest before you add any pie on top of the pile in your already full stomach.”
I giggle, and his eyes snap to mine. “Not funny.”
“Tess’s staying and watching that new movie with me,” Mom says with a smile.
He leans back in his seat and interlaces his fingers on his stomach, rolling his eyes. “I told you I would watch it with you.”
“Why, so you can whine the whole time about how unrealistic it is?” She scoffs, stuffing the last bite of her pie into her mouth before standing.
Dad opens his mouth to speak, and I shake my head at him. It’s not worth the fight, so he closes his eyes and sighs. “Well, I guess I could run to the gas station and buy some popcorn for you ladies.” He glances at his watch. “When’s it start? Eight?”
I rise from my seat. “I can go, Dad. You stay here.”
He slides his hand into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. “You need money?”
I mean, the old me would have my hand out in a second, but the new me is much more responsible. “No, that’s okay. I got it.” I kiss the top of his balding head, grab my jacket, and head out the door.
My car rumbles to a start and staggers backward out of their driveway.
I drive down the street and come to a halt at the stop sign. A small fire billows high above a fire pit in someone’s side yard, catching my attention.
“Mastyx,” I whisper his name without thinking. The flames shoot sideways from the firepit, making the people standing around it scatter like ants. My eyes widen right before an inappropriate chuckle escapes me. That wasn’t very nice, Contessa, I think to myself.
A car beeps behind me, making me jump. I pull into the intersection and turn left toward the gas station on the corner. When I arrive, the parking lot is full, so I park along the curb nearby.
The bell above the door dings when I enter, and the cashier gives me a quick head nod as I turn down the salt and sweets aisle. It’s not a huge selection, but it carries most everything you could need.
I grab a box of popcorn and turn the corner into the next aisle.
A man stands there, holding a woman’s arm so tight in his grasp that his knuckles whiten.
“You will listen and do as you’re told,” he hisses in her face.
His eye dart to mine. “What the fuck are you looking at, bitch?” The woman puts her head down, not wanting to make eye contact with me or show her face, but it’s too late.
The dark bruise around her eye tells what he’s done and will continue to do if I don’t do something about it.
Mastyx has always come to me when I’ve been in trouble, but I’ve always wondered if he would come to me just because I call him.
I back up and go to the next aisle, avoiding passing the abusive man and drop my popcorn at the register. I pluck a book of matches from the display and set it on top of the popcorn. When I finish paying, I step outside and wait for the man and woman to exit.
A few minutes later, the door crashes open and the woman stumbles outside, the man shoving her toward the gas pumps where an old, beat-up teal pickup truck is parked.
I fall in line behind them, scanning the parking lot. Most of the cars that were parked here when I arrived have already driven away.
The man pulls the gas nozzle from its holder and feeds it into his gas tank before noticing me. He yells at the woman, who’s spinning the thin wedding band around her bony left finger, over the bed of the truck. “Get in the fucking truck, Darla.”
She reaches for the door handle, her sunken eyes filled with despair, and I grip her arm. “Run.”
“What?” Her eyes drift to his, her face paling. “No. He’ll kill me.”
“No, he won’t. I promise.” I pull a hundred-dollar bill out of my wallet and place it in her palm. “Get as far away from here as you can.”
She nods, takes one last look at the man, who’s staring at the pump watching the numbers go up, turns and takes off in a sprint.
I round the truck bed and stand behind him. A car horn honks, and he turns his head just in time to see Darla, jetting across the street in front of traffic.
“God Damnit, Darla!” He shouts in her direction. “Get the fuck back here.”
“Hey,” I yell at him from behind. “Leave her alone.”
His eyes narrow at me as he fights to remove the end of the nozzle from his gas tank. “You fucking bitch. What the hell did you do?”
He grabs my arm roughly, sending a sharp pain through it.
Fear courses through me, sending prickling adrenaline across my flesh. Inside my head, I wonder if I made a mistake. What if Mastyx doesn’t come, and this guy takes me?
“Answer me.” The man twists my arm, but despite the pain it causes, the fear lifts from my body and dissipates in the air. It’s like my brain and body somehow know Mastyx will come the minute I call him to my side.
Does he know I’m in trouble somehow? Is he sending me a message from the sanctity of his dwelling beneath my feet?
“I saved her,” I say with a smile, yanking my arm out of his grasp.
“And you’ll never hurt her, or anyone else, ever again.
” I open the book of matches, pluck one out and strike it, watching the flames grow before my eyes.
“Mastyx.” I drop the match between us, and it lands in a small puddle of spilled gas, lighting up the ground at the man’s feet.
The nozzle breaks free from the truck as the man tries to move quickly away from the open flame.
I bolt away from him, knowing Mastyx will fan those flames right for the gas pump.
A massive explosion deafens my ears, and a shockwave knocks me to the ground, face-first against the pavement. Blood pools in my mouth as my teeth drive into my lip.
Someone grabs me from behind and hoists me to my feet. “Run,” the cashier from inside the store screams in my face, but I can barely hear his muffled voice.
He all but drags me behind him, heading straight for the metal dumpster where he slings me behind it as a second explosion rocks the ground beneath our feet. I peer around the corner, staring wide-eyed at the inferno.
Mastyx briefly emerges from the flames, his claws curled into the man at the pump’s chest. The man’s face suddenly sinks in, his skin melting off and seemingly transferring to Mastyx as he sucks out his soul before they disappear into the billowing black smoke, the fire raging out of control.
I’m right. Well, at least I think I am. It does appear that Mastyx can take the face of the person whose soul he takes.
I gaze down at my hand, still clutching the plastic bag containing my box of popcorn, with a small tear in its corner. The cashier turns away from me, pulling out his phone and no doubt dialing 9-1-1. I walk briskly to my car, still parked on the side of the building, and climb inside.
The cashier turns around and scans the area beside the dumpster, searching for me. I push the key into the ignition with violently shaking hands, start the car and drive away.