Chapter 54
Chapter Fifty-Four
Tank tilts his head to the side to observe me before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. His tongue invades my mouth, and I fight the urge to gag. He tastes like charcoal and soot, nothing enticing about him.
"You aren't very convincing," he mumbles against my lips.
I have a feeling he is playing with me, trying to make me prove I lied.
It takes serious control to fight the urge to rip my lips from his.
I lift my head and kiss him back, which surprises him.
It is at that moment I realize he is indeed testing me.
He grabs my breast, squeezing it, the tip of the knife pressing under my chin and digging into my skin. However, it isn't very sharp.
Tank kisses me harder with a lewd groan which repulses me, but I shove it down and keep my feelings neutral; it is the best I can do without giving myself away.
My marking taints burn fiercely and make my eyes water at the stinging sensation, wondering what that means.
Does that mean they are trying to find me?
Or does it mean something else? Tank's tongue assaults mine before he lifts his leg, placing it between mine and forcing them open.
My eyes fly open as he climbs onto the bed.
His eyes are closed as he kisses me, bearing his weight down between my legs as he forces his way between them.
My ankles strain painfully from the restraints, and I think he is about to break them. The odd angle makes me pull my lips from his and gasp. Tank growls, looking down at me, the knife's blade now resting on my cheek.
"My ankles," I choke out, and he looks over his shoulder at my feet.
"Oh, sorry, doll, got carried away," he murmurs, quickly pecking my lips while I try to catch my breath.
Tank climbs off me, his hand running down the length of my body to my ankle as he undoes the cuff. He leans over to undo the other one. The knife is between his teeth as he fiddles with the cuff.
Tank then stands beside me before placing the knife on my chest while he unrestrains my hands. When one wrist is released, I twirl my wrist, knowing if I go for the blade, it would alert him, and my other hand is still restrained, so I wouldn't get far.
"Isn't that knife a little blunt?" I ask him, my eye averting to my chest where it sits on my cleavage.
"No, you just need to use enough pressure and the right angle," he says, cupping my face with his hand.
I grab his wrist now both hands are free before making myself sick as I lift my head and kiss his lips. Tank growls, kissing me back fiercely, approving of my affections.
His strange actions make me wonder what’s happened to this man for him to be so unhinged and to think I would reciprocate any of the feelings he seems to have for me.
Tank grabs the knife and my arm, pulling me off the bed to stand on my feet.
He turns me to face my brother before stepping behind me.
He grips my wrist in one hand, his hot chest burning into my back as he steps closer.
Using his other hand, he places the knife in my hand, wrapping his huge hand around mine, nudging me toward my brother.
I swallow when I come to stand beside Brian.
Tank's hand on mine runs the knife's point down Brian's side to his ribs.
"Now, you could slide it in here, or…" He moves my hand and taps Brian's chest above his heart with the knife. Brian does not wake yet as I get a closer look at him. If it wasn't for his shallow breathing, I would have thought he was dead.
Tank makes some stabbing motions with my hand wrapped in his, and I look up at him. He kisses my nose. "See? Easy," he purrs, and I nod, turning back to my brother.
With Tank directly behind me, I know I have no choice but to stab Brian.
I try to figure out a non-lethal way to stab someone, but I hav no idea where the arteries are.
Sucking in a breath, I try a different method.
Pulling my hand back, I make out I am going to stab through his side along his ribs.
Instead, I plunge the knife into Brian's upper arm, pretending to miss my target spot.
Tears burn my eyes when he doesn't so much as groan or move.
“I missed," I tell Tank, trying to keep my voice from shaking. My eyes sting with tears as I withdraw the knife.
"Damn, I must have hit him harder than I thought. Look, he is even drooling on himself," Tank chuckles, reaching over and slapping his face.
"Take your time. By the look of Brian, I don't think he will fight you," Tank laughs, letting go of my hand.
I press my lips together, and a lone tear brims and slips down my cheek as I raise the knife to stab Brian in the chest. When I bring the knife down, I divert direction and bring it behind me and into Tank's thigh.
Tank roars and staggers back, and I run for the door, smacking into the doorframe as I burst into the hall and slide into the wall. Tank's booming voice echoes around me tauntingly as I race toward the front door.
"Run all you want, Arabella. You can't escape this house," he says, and I toss the door open only to smack into an invisible wall.
I am thrown backward onto the foyer floor and land on my butt. I stare at the door. Nothing is blocking it; I can see the driveway clearly. Tank's footsteps reach my ears, and I glance over my shoulder to see him strolling toward me. Getting to my feet, he laughs.
"Welcome to our very own prison world, doll. Can't escape me now," he laughs as I run through the living room toward the kitchen.
My heart races as I check all windows, but he is right. I can’t get out. Checking the window above the sink, Tank's voice reaches my ears. "No use, love, the only way out of here is with the casting key."
Tank is leaning against the door frame with his arm folded. He hasn't even pulled the knife from his leg yet. I glance at it protruding from his leg as he pushes off the door frame. His eyes move to stare at his wound. He huffs and smiles.
"Just a flesh wound," he says, yanking it out. Black blood oozes from where I stabbed him, and my eyes dart around the room nervously. The only thing separating us is the dusting island bench.
"You were mine long before Latham's. He will not take you from me. I made a deal with your father, and now I want to claim it. You are mine," Tank growls, his eyes turning a demonic shade of black.
He charges toward me, and I shriek, moving out of reach and to the other side of the island bench.
Tank clicks his tongue. "Naughty girl," he says, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. "Just when we were beginning to have some fun."
"They will come for me," I tell him, moving around the island bench closer to the door leading into the living room, and he laughs louder. The sound sends chills up my spine.
"He can come. I hope he does. There is no way in or out of this house. As I said, I created my prison world, and once my brother watches me claim you, he will give up, because if I can't have you, no one will."
I shake my head. He clearly doesn't know his brother well. Because I know without a doubt they will come for me. I can feel them searching for me. I can't explain how, but I know they are getting closer, and now I just have to keep this asshole distracted long enough for them to get to me.