Heart So Hollow (Dire Wolves #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Brett

College

“Oh my god,” I exclaim as I slam my car door, “are you a drug dealer?”

When Colson said he lived on the river, I assumed he meant in one of the many apartment complexes or condos set far behind the road, like me. I was wrong.

My GPS directions take me past all the apartments and tract home subdivisions, into a neighborhood further north where the houses are custom built into the hillside and each backyard has a dock with private access to the river’s edge. This neighborhood is the kind that I drive by and wonder what the residents do for a living because there’s no way I’ll ever make enough money to live here.

I turn my Impreza into a hidden drive between a line of thick hedges and follow Colson’s Bronco down a steep driveway into a wide turnaround in front of a stunning riverfront home. The stone exterior shines bright in the floodlights lining the walkway to a massive oak and wrought iron door. Gazing around at the landscape, the strategically placed boulders and trees make it seem like the house just sprouted up in the middle of a forest.

I should be impressed, but suspicion gets the better of me. I don’t belong in this neighborhood, at a house like this, so how does Colson?

He strolls across the driveway and smiles when he sees me standing at the door of my car, gawking at the house with my mouth hanging half open.

“No, I’m not a drug dealer.”

I shoot him a side-eye, “Is your roommate?”

“Kind of,” he shrugs, “he’s a VP at some pharma company.”

“And why do you live with him?” I scrunch up my face in confusion, “You do live here, right? ”

Colson pulls his hand out of his jacket pocket and jingles his keys, “I’m not a drug dealer, I don’t do drugs of any kind, I drink too much, I live with my cousin, he’s not a drug dealer—that I know of—but he and his family have money.”

I shift my gaze back and forth between him and the house that seems too fancy for either of us to be standing in front of, let alone go inside, “OK, fine,” I finally say with a shrug.

He motions to the door with a nod and I follow him up the walkway lined with boulders and foliage. As soon as I walk through the door, my jaw hits the floor. The walls are India ink blue framed with crown molding and square paneling. The hardwood floors are laid out in a herringbone design stained in light brown tones that pop against the walls. Through the foyer, to the left, is the dining room. The windows and walls stretch two stories high with an ornate chandelier that hangs above the 10-seat mahogany dining table.

So, this is what these houses look like on the inside...

I’m so distracted, I have to keep glancing ahead of me to make sure I haven’t lost Colson. I set my tote bag next to the coat rack near the front door and follow him down the hall into the kitchen, where I’m rendered speechless again. The walls are the same stone as the exterior out front, but it has a vaulted ceiling with black exposed wooden beams. Behind the island is an enormous gothic cathedral window that’s filled with nothing but trees. It’s nearly pitch-black right now, but I imagine it’s gorgeous in the daylight.

When Colson hangs his keys on the far wall, I notice he’s not wearing his jacket anymore. I was probably so gob smacked, I didn’t notice him hang it up at the front door. I start unzipping my fleece, still unsure whether I’m dreaming or not.

I glance over my shoulder as I head back toward the front hall, “You live here and you still party at Cade and Anderson’s hellhole?”

“I live here, it doesn’t mean I can party here,” Colson replies. “Can you imagine what those heathens would do if I let them loose in here? I’d end up homeless by morning, and probably murdered and dumped in the river.”

“Valid,” I concede, my voice echoing as it bounces off the high ceilings. “Where’s your cousin?”

“Dubai—I think. Or Munich. I don’t remember, he travels a lot.”

I come to an abrupt halt when I pass the living room. On my left, the house opens up to another wall of two-story windows that face more trees and the riverbank. The walls are painted the same India ink blue with the same crown molding and paneling. Black leather furniture and a white contrasting rug sit in front of a massive stone fireplace on the left side of the room with a TV mounted above it. There are also a lot of green fern-like plants in giant Victorian vases all over the house.

“When’s he coming back?” I fold up my fleece and tuck it inside my bag on the floor, then slip off my sneakers before returning to Colson .

This place is so immaculate, I’ll die of embarrassment if I track so much as a blade of grass across the floor.

“Next week,” he pauses, looking me up and down, “you can stay here as long as you want. He wouldn’t care.”

His offer catches me off-guard and I’m not sure whether to thank him or call him crazy.

“Want anything to drink?” Colson asks before I can respond. He strolls toward me, stopping when his chest is almost touching mine, “Water? Another one of your sandpaper smoothies?”

“No, thank you,” I grin up at him and then take another look around the giant living room that looks like it belongs in Bruce Wayne’s house rather than somewhere in greater Columbus.

An instant later, I let out a shriek as my legs are swept out from under me and I’m flipped upside down. My arms flail as Colson wraps his arm around my thighs and tosses me over his shoulder. Pushing away from his lower back, I lift my head and try to look around while the floor starts moving beneath me. When he starts up the staircase, all I can see are more dark floorboards as I bob up and down with each step he takes.

“ Ow!” I wince when I feel a sharp pinch on my backside, “Did you just bite my ass? ”

“It’s right here, I just wanted a taste,” he calls back to me.

Even from upside down, the second-floor looks just as impressive as the rest of the house, with the same walls, herringbone floors, and gothic sconces lighting the way. Colson continues to the end of the hall and steps into a dark room, swinging the door shut behind him. He flips a switch next to the door and gently lowers me down. Once I get over the initial headrush, I realize it’s his bedroom lit by a single lamp on the dresser that casts a moody glow through the room.

Colson’s bedroom is shaped like an A-frame, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on the left side—with actual books on them—and an entire wall of slanted windows on the right. Jagged, pitch-black silhouettes of pines and maples tower over us, making the entire room seem like a treehouse at the top of a forest.

And his bed—oh my god— his bed.

It’s a black Queen Anne mahogany four poster with thick posts that alternate between flat edges, turned designs, and dramatic swirls that end at a point. The headboard is decorated with ornate carvings that line the railing, making the entire thing look like it belongs in a gothic manor rather than a 21-year-old college student’s bedroom.

Does Colson get dressed for Halloween-themed frat parties in this room? Does he stumble in drunk after a long day of tailgating? He can’t possibly bring girls back here, otherwise everyone would know that he lives in a riverside mansion.

Or maybe they do and I’m just that clueless …

“You know,” I glance up at Colson, “I never would’ve pegged you for a goth kid.”

“Well,” he leans down to kiss me, “we all have secrets, don’t we?”

In response, I grab the hem of his black t-shirt, dragging it up to his chest until he pulls it the rest of the way over his head and drops it behind him.

“Last chance to leave,” he strokes the side of my face, “before I tear your heart out and make it mine.”

“If you can find it,” I tease, trailing my fingertip down the middle of his chest to his stomach.

“You’ll show me where it is,” Colson nods, “you just won’t give it up that easy…”

I hesitate for a moment, then give a curt shake of my head.

Slowly, he leans down and gently taps his forehead against mine, “You want me to search for it, don’t you?”

My eyes fall to the floor, “Yes,” I admit as rush of heat ripples through my stomach.

Colson steps away from me, backtracking across the cream rug, the only shred of bright color in the entire room. He sits down on the edge of the bed and beckons to me with a curl of his finger.

As soon as I come to a stop between his knees, he reaches for the hem of my t-shirt and gently pulls it over my head in one fluid motion, “You don’t wear your heart on your sleeve,” he smirks, dropping it at my feet.

His eyes fall to my hips and he hooks his thumbs in the waist of my leggings, sliding them down over my ass and then my legs. I set my hand on his shoulder to keep my balance and watch with intrigue as he gently lifts my ankle, pulls one leg free, and then does the other.

But instead of straightening up, he runs his hand up my calf and behind my knee, staring at my leg with intense concentration. Trailing his thumb over each curve of muscle and bone, he studies each faded scar and tiny imperfection that’s otherwise invisible to the naked eye.

“What are you looking at?” I murmur.

Colson doesn’t look up, “You need to get used to me looking at you,” he answers while his eyes continue moving over every inch of my skin.

His touch is excruciating, sending tremors through every nerve ending as he steadily moves up my legs to my hips and then my stomach. Finally, he reaches behind my back and unclasps my bra, letting the straps fall from my arms. Goosebumps scatter down my chest when the cool air hits my nipples, turning them hard.

At that moment, I don’t care if Colson’s fucked every single one of the Deltas—twice—because right now, I’m the one he’s undressing in his swanky gothic lair.

He grasps my waist and jerks me toward him, pressing his face into my stomach. With eyes closed, he inhales deeply, running his nose and mouth up my skin to my chest. The way he does it seems almost…animalistic .

He sweeps his head back and forth between my breasts, taking in my scent, “You smell just like I thought you would,” he groans, pulling my leg up to his hip so I’m straddling his lap, “would you be mad if I tore your heart out for real—if I ruined your perfect tits and dyed your hair with arterial spray?” He guides one breast to his mouth and tongues the rosy shadow before closing his mouth around my nipple, sucking hard, “Am I getting closer? Have I found it yet?”

I wince as I lean into him, raking my fingers through his hair. The more he talks, the more sinister he sounds, and the tighter I want to hold on to him. But I still like fighting him…

“What if I say you can’t have it?” I want him to keep chasing me. “What if I give it to someone else?”

Colson stills except for the steady rise and fall of his shoulders with each breath. Slowly, he lifts his head and stares right at me with vacant eyes. They go dark and for a brief moment and his mouth twitches into a snarl before relaxing again. I don’t even feel his hand reach up my back before he clenches my hair at the base of my skull and snaps it back with a gasp. I grab his shoulders in a panic, my scalp on fire as I suck air through my teeth.

“Who has your heart, Brett?” Colson murmurs against my throat, sending a chill up my spine. When he pulls back, I hear a thwack and immediately cry out, a sharp pain radiating through my breast. “Who else would you give it to?” he asks through clenched teeth.

My mind is chaotic and empty at the same time, “No one…” I grind out through clenched teeth, my chest heaving with desire.

“Tell me who else I need to fuck up to take back what’s mine.”

Who else?

I feel his hand at the small of my back as he reaches for the strips of black lace. His arms go rigid and I hear a faint snap. Then another. He’s ripped my underwear apart. The fabric falls away as he pulls it through my legs, leaving me completely naked.

Still gripping my head, he balls up my thong in his fist and tucks it into the side pocket of his pants, “I think I found it,” he whispers with arrogance. “You don’t want anyone else, little liar,” he says while trailing kisses along my collarbone, “but I want you—” his teeth clip my shoulder, “to crawl to me—” then he tips my head to meet his eyes, “ like a little slut. ”

His last words send a tremor deep through my stomach all the way down to my knees. My muscles go rigid and I can feel the liquid heat at the top of my thighs as he pushes me off his lap. He starts scooting back across the black bedspread until his back hits the headboard, then he curls his index finger, beckoning to me. I do what he says, crawling over the edge of the bed and slinking toward him until I’m kneeling on all fours between his bent knees.

Colson tilts his head with a wicked smile, “Take your hair down,” he commands .

I reach behind my head and slowly pull my hair tie from my knotted bun. His smile fades with each curl that falls over my shoulder and I recognize the same far-off look in his eyes that he had at the library, except now his gaze feels like hot embers on my skin.

The corner of my mouth curls and I tip my chin up, “What’s the matter, Colson?” I taunt him.

He runs his tongue over his teeth, eyeing me intently, and then reaches up and brushes his index finger back and forth under my chin, “Waiting for you to take off my belt,” he glances down at his waist.

I run my hand over his thigh and up the front of his pants, moving at an agonizing pace over the stiff outline of his cock. When I hear a faint groan escape his throat, I pop the clasp on his belt for the second time and pull it through the loops with a zip. He holds out his hand to take it from me, and that’s when something on his hip draws my attention.

Peeking out from the waist of his pants are an array of scars. They’re all straight, horizontal slashes in varying stages of healing. Some are longer than others, from a couple of inches to a few that are so long that they curve around his side. Newer ones are pink and get progressively lighter, while older ones have long coalesced into one another like shiny white feathers embedded in his skin.

Gently, I pull the waist of his pants down to expose more of them, “What happened to you?” I murmur, brushing my fingertips over his chaotic marks.

Colson watches me inspect his hip as he feeds the end of his belt back through the clasp, “Unsustainable coping strategies,” he states with nonchalance.

I look up at him, “You did this?”

He answers with a nod.

As many scars as there are, I notice there aren’t any fresh ones, “What made you stop?”

After I say it, I realize that I don’t know whether Colson has stopped. I don’t know how often he feels the need to slice into his own body. I want to ask him why he does it, but before I can, I feel something brush against my shoulder and the sharp pinch of the belt as he cinches it taut around my throat.

He twists the slack around one hand and drags his gaze up and down my body, “I found a different vice.”

It feels like a slight. I don’t like the idea of being a vice. Vices are flippant, symptoms of bigger problems that change when they’re of no more use and no longer satisfy a need. They’re placeholders for the real things you can’t have.

My jaw tightens, “Another unsustainable coping strategy?”

Colson tightens the belt, pulling me forward until I’m back on all fours between his knees, “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” he growls, “You’d love to say I’m just some asshole who used you and put you out tomorrow morning with the trash.”

I also don’t like him assuming what I’m thinking.

“Did Dana and Leah ask about your scars, too?” I jab through my constricted windpipe, “What’d you tell them? ”

“Jealous girl…” Colson grins, “don’t worry, all that was before I ever laid eyes on you. Since then, I’ve been all yours. But they knew not to ask. They weren’t brats like you.”

I brace myself against his chest, ignoring the dangerous reality that Colson’s belt is wrapped around my throat and I’m sitting here bickering with him like a jealous idiot about whether other girls are aware of his pattern of self-harm.

“But that’s why you’re here,” his tone softens, “you’re not an accident, Brett. You’re more than enough to sustain me. You try to act so hateful, but it never works because while you’re busy talking shit, your pussy’s so wet for me it hurts.” He tightens the belt again, making my breaths go shallow, “I love the fight you give me, but it’ll always end the same—with you begging for my dick. All of it. ” He sweeps his nose back and forth against mine, groaning his last words, “Because you’re my best girl, aren’t you?”

What an arrogant asshole.

A beautiful one, but arrogant, nonetheless.

“You’re so full of shit, Colson,” I hiss with my last gasp of air.

This time, when I feel the strap tighten, all I can hear is my pulse in my ears as my face starts to throb. Colson smiles when he sees the spark of panic in my eyes, but doesn’t let up. I hold his eyes, like we’re engaged in a macabre staring contest. I dig my nails into his chest as hot tears pool in the creases of my eyes, which only seems to turn him on more. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out, not even a cough of choked air. Finally, when the throbbing begins to sound like a drumbeat in my ear, I frantically tap his chest with the palm of my hand.

To my utter relief, Colson releases his grip and I fall with a gasp between his knees, my forehead pressed against his chest as I whimper through each breath.

He gently cups my face and lifts my chin, brushing my hair away from my eyes, “Baby, I’ll fight you all night, and I’ll always win. Just tell me when you’ve had enough so I can put your pieces back together to make you whole again.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and tense my muscles beneath his touch. He’s right, I’m so wet for him right now and it does hurt. Now, I just want to feel him squeeze his belt around my throat again and decide when I’m allowed to breathe and when I’m not. It’s both horrifying and exhilarating.

“Do it again,” my shaky whisper pleads with him.

It doesn’t sound like my voice, but it is .

I push his knees down and climb over his legs into his lap. And this time, when he tightens his belt, I stay submerged longer in his oxygen-deprived euphoria. Instead of struggling against his iron grip, I grind against him with desperation and brush my breasts across his face while I do it. This time, the tears streaming down the corners of my eyes feel like a dam breaking and the first breath he gives me feels like waking up after a years-long hibernation.

Before I can open my eyes, I feel Colson’s tongue trail up my face and lick the saltwater from beneath my eyes, “You’re such a good girl for me,” his deep voice rumbles in my ear.

I’m crazy—certifiable—clinging to this man after he nearly choked me unconscious. I shouldn’t trust him as much as I do.

“What happens after you get your fix?” I ask between breaths, “Do you move on to your next obsession?”

That’s how it usually works, isn’t it? Aren’t infatuations and vices like fireworks; intense displays of shock and awe until they inevitably fizzle out into darkness?

“No,” Colson pulls the belt loose from my neck and drops it onto the bed next to him. Then he reaches up with both hands and gently rubs his thumbs over the red blotches forming on my throat, “It never ends because there’s nothing after you. I don’t get bored because I’m consumed by you and I’ll always need to chase you. You are, in the most concrete and unequivocal sense—” he wraps my curls around his fist and gently brings my forehead to his, “ my only. ”

“Is that why you stopped cutting yourself?” I press my palm against his chest, feeling a tiny shred of guilt that I have no business feeling, “Please don’t put that on me.”

Colson gazes up at me with an expression I can only describe as admiration. After a few seconds, he reaches behind his back to his pocket. When he brings his hand back around, he’s gripping something black in his fist. He rests his hand on his stomach, inches from my pelvis, and flips open a black knife with a sharp click. The blade is about four inches long, black metal with a serrated bottom that gives way to a smooth, razor-sharp edge.

“I can show you how it feels,” he slowly toggles the blade back and forth like a metronome, “when you’re so numb that you start to wonder if you’re already dead. But when that cold blade slices through your flesh and draws blood,” he smiles with a long blink, “it’s like finally taking a breath when you’re about to drown.”

Finally, I scratch the itch and ask him what I really want to know, “What makes you feel so numb?”

Colson stares down at my abdomen, as if in a trance, and sways his knife back and forth at the same pace .

“You remind me of who I used to be, a long time ago,” he tightens his grip on my waist with one hand and lifts his knife with the other, “and when I saw you for the first time, it felt like I found myself again.”

When he touches the dark blade to my skin, all the air leaves my lungs and I don’t dare move while he tracks white lines up to my ribs. Goosebumps skitter over my shoulders and down my back as I watch him trace spiderwebs over my torso. Before long, he drops his hand and slides his thumb between my thighs where I’m leaving a slick spot on his stomach. My breath catches when he brushes over my clit, running circles over it while he teases my skin and threatens to nick me any moment.

My eyes flutter as I move with his hand, the tip of his blade catching and leaving a constellation of tiny red dots over my torso. The orgasm builds deep in my belly, eliciting a high-pitched moan as it slowly works its way to my core.

“Do you like the pain I give you?” Colson murmurs as my hips roll against his hand. “Do you love what I can give you, that no one else can?” his voice crescendos as my muscles tense, sending a shockwave down my legs.

I don’t feel his knife at first. I don’t feel him slice the blade across my rib at the exact moment the wave of ecstasy crashes into me. But soon enough, the stinging pain tears through the dopamine like a tornado splintering barn wood. I let out a scream, shuddering and cursing as I watch a red ribbon unfurl across my skin and slowly seep down my torso.

It’s a superficial cut, but enough to shock me and hurt like hell. It’s an instant high, a wave of adrenaline I want to wrap myself in like a blanket. I close my eyes so all I hear is me sucking deep breaths through my teeth and all I feel is Colson’s hands running over my skin.

“Open your eyes, baby,” his lilting voice brings me back, “you’re not dead yet.”

My eyes fly open and I mutter another curse when I feel the sting of my cut. I look down again at the six-inch slash oozing garnet blood across my otherwise smooth and unremarkable skin.

“It hurts,” I gasp, “ fuck, it hurts. ”

“It should,” Colson gazes up at me, “because there’s nothing dead about you. I could bleed you dry right now and you’d still have more life in your eyes than I do in my entire body. Even if I’m never able to feel like you do every day, just being with you is the closest I can get to being whole.”

He lifts my torso to his mouth and runs his tongue under my breast, trailing the dripping blood to its source. I wince at the sting of him sucking the wound, but he holds me firm with both arms, grinding me against the thick ridge of his cock straining against the fabric between us.

“Colson,” I breathe into his thick, feathered hair, “you’re not dead, either. You’re real, and you’re alive, and I want to feel you inside me. ”

When he lifts his head, his lips are tinted with ruby and his chest is smeared with rusty streaks of blood, “Can I have you bare?” he asks while he massages the small of my back.

I take a breath and open my mouth, but nothing comes out at first, “Um,” I swallow, “are you clean?”

He nods.

“How do you know?”

“Because I got tested.”

I don’t miss a beat, “When?”

And neither does he, “The first day of class in January,” he nods to the bedside table, “it’s in the drawer.”

Eyeing him, I turn and slowly crawl to the edge of the bed. When I open the drawer, there’s a folded piece of white paper inside, just like he said. When I look at, it is in fact a report from the student clinic. I stifle a laugh when I see the date—the first day of classes.

“I am, too,” I volunteer, folding the paper back up, “clean, I mean.”

Colson leans back against the headboard, “I know you are.”

I still my hands, “How?”

“Because you called to reschedule your gyno exam before class started one day. They test you while you’re there, right?”

My brow shoots up, so much for confidentiality.

“Yeah, um,” I toss the folded paper back onto the bedside table and crawl back to Colson’s lap, “I’m also on the pill.”

“You know those mess with your head, right?” he asks as I settle onto his thighs.

I barely suppress an eyeroll, “Oh?”

Colson cups my face and pulls me close, “They change your brain chemistry,” he says between soft kisses, “and can cause depression and anxiety.” I reach for his pants and pop the button as he speaks, “They can even change who you’re attracted to.” He sucks in a breath as I slowly tug his pants off his hips, “It’s very irresponsible of you.”

The arrogance—the audacity —of him trying to educate me on the pitfalls of hormonal birth control while I’m literally undressing him, as if my life as a woman isn’t one cost-benefit analysis after another.

“Are you afraid if I stop taking them, I’ll be repulsed by you?” I reply sarcastically, “On the contrary, my hormones seem to be benefiting you right now.”

“It’s all the same to me,” Colson grabs my waist and pulls me back onto his lap, “but I hope for your sake that you’re still this much of a slut for me when I decide to put my kids in you.”

I lean down and tease his tongue with mine, “I haven’t decided if I want you putting your kids in me.” But the metallic bite of my own blood on his lips says otherwise .

“You will,” he nods, digging his fingers into my hips as I start grinding on his cock, already dripping and rigid against his naval. “ Fuck , baby,” he groans through his teeth, “just put me inside you.”

I reach down and fist his cock, then raise up to notch him inside me. But when I try to sink down around him, I hesitate, digging my nails into his shoulders as a sharp pain radiates down my thighs. Half-suspended over his lap, I try again, but all it does is push the air out of my lungs. Colson just watches me with a ravenous grin that gets wider each time I fail.

“I…can’t…” I pause, because I can’t believe I’m about to say this shit—the one thing you never say to a man because it’s never true…

“You won’t fit.”

Colson chews his bottom lip, the corners of his mouth curling as he looks me up and down, “Give me your hands.”

I sink down onto his thighs as he reaches for his belt on the mattress. He waits for me to raise my hand and then loops the strap around my wrists, pulling it tight through the metal clasp. When I wince, he looks up at me with a slight smile and slowly raises my arms over his head until they’re resting on his shoulders and my bound hands are clasped behind his neck.

“I need to tell you something,” Colson reaches behind his head for the slack hanging from my wrists and loops the belt over the railing at the top of the headboard, “the first time I saw you wasn’t in class. It was at the Sig house,” he says while knotting the strap, muscle memory guiding his hands behind his head.

“When?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the knot getting tighter by the second.

“Right before winter break,” he replies, “you were there with Barrett. You were wearing these leather leggings and this white sweater that hung off your shoulders. You looked incredible, and that’s when I decided you’d never go home with anyone but me— ever. I was about to come over and talk to you, but then you—” Colson pauses and his blue eyes go dark, “ disappeared. ”

He gives the strap a sharp jerk and the headboard shudders like a punch to my chest.

Oh, shit.

“You were there?” I croak.

“I was there,” he nods, “so, imagine my disappointment when I didn’t get to talk to you.” He loops the strap around itself again and gives it, and the headboard, another sharp jerk, “Did you have fun with Trey that night?”

“No,” I mumble, my arms trembling as I shake my head, “not at all.”

“Why not?” Colson gives the knot another tug for good measure and then drops the slack, letting it fall behind his back.

My eyes fall to Colson’s chest. I don’t want to talk about this, I don’t want to talk about Trey and his disappointing lack of prowess right now . But Colson tips my chin up with his index finger so I’m forced to look him in the eye .

“It’s because he could never measure up. He just takes. He’s not fit to walk through the same dirt as you. But don’t worry,” Colson’s mouth twitches with amusement, “that was the last bit of fun he had for a while.”

“Why—” I knit my brow in confusion, “what do you mean?”

Colson stares into my eyes, a devious look spreading over his face, “It was a shame he shattered his knee the next day…”

I long blink, thinking back to the beginning of the spring semester. The next time I saw Trey, he had a brace on his leg and was telling everyone he busted his knee snowboarding.

“Up on your knees, baby,” Colson taps my hip twice, “and stay wherever I put you.”

I do as he says and rock forward. He wraps one arm around my waist and lifts me slightly, positioning my hips right above his cock. Then he gently lowers me down so his tip is just inside me. He feels both amazing and excruciating.

“But if you—” my breath catches as gravity pulls me down, “how are you not in prison?” I still manage to sound incredulous.

“I know things about Trey,” Colson’s jaw drops and then he snaps it shut with a groan, “illegal things.”

Fine, he has an answer for everything. But there’s no guarantee any of it’s true…

I return to facts I can recall, “But I didn’t even see you at that house,” I whimper as my breaths gets shallower.

“No, I guess you wouldn’t have,” Colson hisses through his teeth as he slides another inch inside me, “but it’s why I decided to fuck with you at Cade and Anderson’s. You didn’t leave before I could talk to you, I wasn’t planning on speaking to you at all that night.”

When he says it, everything falls away around me and I just stare at him in shock. I haven’t forgotten that feeling, when Colson’s eyes glossed over me like I was invisible—like I didn’t exist. Then I had to tell my closest friends about it. And now I want to smack him upside the head.

I give the straps around my wrists a violent jerk, but the headboard is solid and might as well be made of iron. This makes Colson laugh, but only for a moment. As soon as it comes out, he snaps his mouth shut as though he realizes he’s being rude.

“I’m not proud of it,” he shakes his head, “you didn’t deserve that. I promise I’ll never do it again, make you feel like you’re less than. But I made it up to you—” the corners of his mouth curl, “I came to visit you.”

“You came to my apartment?” I ask as I tug at the strap again, but it’s hopelessly knotted.

The knot looks very specific. It probably has a name and Colson’s probably tied it thousands of times around things like trees and boats and posts and pickup trucks out in the middle of the woods .

“No,” he slowly shakes his head, his eyes locked on mine, “I took a trip to the lake. ”

My stomach drops when Colson says this last unsettling word. He lets me slide down further and I let out a gasp as I feel him stretching me past what I thought was possible.

He stills and presses his forehead against mine, “Eyes on me.”

I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with air as he slides his hand between my thighs. I can’t concentrate on anything else. What was he talking about? Did he say he went to a lake? Which lake? I grew up on a lake…

Colson settles on my clit and starts rubbing slick circles around it, “You were made for me, sweet girl,” he murmurs against my cheek, “breathe for me and make me fit.”

I do what he says, feeling my own moisture seep onto my thigh as I rock back and forth and sink down further.

“Which— mmm… ” I want him to fill me completely and fuck me within an inch of my life, “w-which lake?”

I know perfectly well which lake. But I want him to give me another reason—a logical one—why he went there. I want him to say that he and his friends decided, for some inexplicable reason, to drive up to tiny North Bay in December. But it’s dumb, and I know it. The ferries don’t run. The islands shut down. No one likes the wind and you need four-wheel drive to traverse the lake effect snow. It’s not even close enough to Cleveland for a weekend of bar-hopping.

“The one you can see from your bedroom window,” Colson whispers.

I gasp through the pain cut with electricity, “You watched me through my window?”

Colson shakes his head no, “I was on your balcony,” he grins and stills his hand as soon as he feels my muscles tense and my breaths grow short.

More games…

He waits a few seconds before he touches me again, “I sat on your railing, and you had no idea, even while you walked around naked after your shower. It was cold as hell, but I waited ‘til you were asleep to come inside. Thank God you went to bed at a decent hour…”

“I keep that door locked,” I snap, deciding he’s at least lying about that.

“Popping a sliding glass door isn’t difficult, sweetheart,” he drawls as he works my clit.

I lean into him, brushing my lips over his, “Do you do that a lot—break into people’s houses?”

“I’ve never had a reason to go inside any but yours,” he murmurs into my mouth. “When I saw you asleep in your bed, do you know how much restraint it took not to pull back your covers, climb between your legs, and give you the best dream of your life? You would’ve asked me to put you in a coma just so you wouldn’t have to wake up. But I didn’t, I just sat on the floor at the edge of your bed, right next to you, for hours.”

My chest tightens and it feels like a thousand spiders are crawling up my back.

“If you’re good, I’ll mark you as mine…then I’ll bind your hands, so you won’t run when I start telling scary stories…”

The voice of reason screams in my ear, assaulting my brain, bombarding me with logic, trying to pull me out of his grip.

This is bad. He is dangerous. There’s something wrong with him.

Even though my heart is racing and my arms are shaking as I tug at his belt in panic, Colson’s still nothing but pure euphoria. And he knows it.

“Am I scaring you, Brett?” he grins as my breaths get shorter, “Keep shaking for me. The more scared you are, the tighter you get.”

He senses the orgasm building and as soon as I’m at the edge, he stills his hand again and waits for it to dissipate.

“You just sat there?” I clench my teeth in irritation, “For hours? ”

“Well, I didn’t just sit there,” Colson starts moving his fingers again, “you’re a sound sleeper, so I looked around your room to learn more about you. But after that,” he cocks his head with a diabolical grin, “I was pretty turned on.”

Oh, God…

I should be horrified, but I’m not. Not when my eyes are rolling back as he’s trying to fit his giant cock inside me, detonating every single one of my nerve endings as he goes. Instead, the thought of Colson kneeling next to my bed, jerking off to me sleeping feels like the sweetest compliment I’ve ever received. So much so that I let myself collapse the rest of the way onto him, sending a dizzying rush all the way up to my head. When my ass hits his thighs, my jaw drops and I let out a long crackling moan like I’m about to split in two.

“ Fuck, Brett,” Colson grits his teeth, “look at you, taking me like such a good girl. I knew you’d like that...”

And I do. I’ve fallen through a black hole into some alternate universe where I’m overcome with a sick sense of flattery. There’s nothing but fuzzy tunnel vision and all I can hear is Colson’s deep voice murmuring in my ear.

“You woke up once,” he continues, “and you looked right at me. I know you saw me. I even touched you. I ran my fingers over your forehead into your hair and, after a few seconds, your eyes rolled back and closed again.”

This time, when I pull back and look into his aquamarine eyes—the same ones etched in my mind that shouldn’t exist—I’m struck with a frenzied and chaotic mess of horror and relief.

“ I know your face, ” I crackle out in a whisper.

“Yes, Honeybee,” Colson brushes his lips against mine, “you met me in your dreams. Except you get what no one else does, you get to keep me even after you wake up. ”

I’m afraid—terrified—but the rush of adrenaline only feeds the carnal hunger that blinds me. This time, when I move with him, he doesn’t stop. His fingers move faster as he drags my soul out of my body with agonizing intensity. Now that I have all of him, I raise up on my knees and grab the edge of his headboard. Maybe if I ride him hard enough, I’ll tear myself apart before he does.

“Is that what you like hearing—how obsessed I am with you?” Colson’s tone turns harsh and condescending, “How you made me love you even while you fucked another man ?”

His words hit like a freight train and the anger in his voice scratches an itch I never knew I had.

“Then where were you? What were you waiting for?” My voice cracks as the words tumble from my mouth, “ Some fucking stalker! ”

We press our foreheads together, baring our teeth at one another like wolves fighting over a carcass. Even now, I want to fight him, drive him mad, make him lose control, and it only makes me want him more.

“Are you going to tell everyone you begged your stalker to fuck you like a little slut after I told you what I did?” he snarls, grabbing my ass with both hands and slamming me down on his cock over and over.

His angle hits its mark deep inside me and shoots the most amazing sensation through my core.

“Oh my god, Colsss …I’m gonna…” I tug against the headboard, howling into his ear while I fuck him as hard as I can.

Colson grabs the back of my neck, “ How sick are you? ” he growls into my cheek as I cry out.

When the orgasm hits, I bring myself down hard, cursing and screaming his name, taking all of him while I gasp for air like I’m drowning.

As soon as I still, Colson grabs my hips and lifts me off of him, pulling out so fast that I let out a shriek. Then he ducks under my arms and rolls out from under me, leaving me a crumpled and bound mess on his pillows. I bury my head in the crooks of my elbows, out of breath as the aftershocks ravage me.

Colson grabs my hips from behind and jerks my ass up, “You’re a sick girl, Brett Ashley,” my eyes fly open when he says my name, “almost as sick as me.”

I wince in pain, “How do you know my middle name?” The slash he gave me still stings, and when I glance down, I realize I’m bleeding onto his white pillows.

“I told you I learned a lot about you while you were sleeping,” Colson holds my hip with one hand, my legs still shaking, and notches himself at my entrance with the other, “plus, your name is from the only book I remember reading in high school.” Colson runs his hand down my waist and over the curve of my ass, “Lady Brett Ashley, she was built with curves like the hull of a racing yacht. And you missed none of it with that wool jersey… ”

Is he seriously reciting Hemingway while I’m tied to his bed and he’s about to rail me from behind?

Before I can respond, Colson rams his cock so far inside me, for a moment I think he’s penetrated my damn cervix. I let out another shriek, gripping the edge of the headboard with white knuckles as he jerks my hips back and forth, thrusting as deep as he can. I can’t breathe, my lungs are frozen, petrified in shock while I take his beating. He keeps going, not letting up until my staccato breaths morph into high-pitched moans. All I can hear are the curses under his breath and the sound of his hips smacking against my ass like the crack of a whip.

“Some fucking stalker, huh?” Colson gives a cruel chuckle as he slows enough for me to catch my breath, “I promise I won’t disappoint you again, Honeybee. I’ll use you up and take what I want, whenever I want.”

He switches his rhythm and gives me three short pumps followed by two long, hard ones, making my muscles contract and my eyes roll back each time I think he can’t get any deeper.

“Is it still stalking if I want you to find me,” I whimper between breaths, “and do this to me every day?”

“Do what to you, baby?” he starts fucking me faster, “Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“Touch me,” I say in a high-pitched moan, “touch me so I can come again with you.”

Colson slides a hand between the crease of my thigh and starts rubbing quick circles around my clit, “I’ll always find you, Brett, whether you want me to or not. You’re my home now, the one I’ll always come back to.”

“Maybe I want you to find me,” his belt digs into my wrists while I roll my hips and pull him deeper, “maybe I don’t want to run.”

“Then tell me what I am to you,” he growls, “ say it. ”

“You’re—” I feel the wave cresting as he thrusts harder and faster, until I cry out the last words, “ you’re my only. ”

My hips convulse at his touch and I scream into the crook of my elbows as the second orgasm rocks through me. His belt digs into my wrists, but I hardly feel it. My shrieks send Colson over the edge and he buries his cock in me so violently, my spine cracks and my ribs jolt with every thrust. The headboard shudders under my hands as Colson pitches forward and grabs onto the edge.

He grabs my throat and jerks my face up to the ceiling, “Fuck, baby,” he grinds out, gripping the wood with white knuckles as he comes, Slam “You’re—” Slam “So—” Slam “Fucking—” Slam “Perfect.”

Stars flash like fireworks the harder Colson squeezes my throat, but I’m not sure whether they’re in his windows or in my head. I shudder when he pulls out, only for him to grab my ankles and jerk my legs out from under me. He grabs my hips and flips me over, twisting my wrists tighter in the belt.

My hands still affixed above my head, Colson wrenches open my knees and buries his face between my legs. I pull at the belt with a gasp when I feel his tongue sweep my pussy from top to bottom. Then he pins my knees to the mattress while he licks and sucks every inch of me with agonizing precision.

Finally, Colson releases my legs and crawls over my writhing body until he’s hovering over my face. Planting one hand on the mattress next to my chest, he squeezes my jaw with the other to open my mouth. As soon as our lips touch, he opens his mouth and I feel a gush of hot liquid flow off his tongue onto mine. He holds my mouth to his as I swallow the salty fluid cut with his spit and the tangy bite of my own cum.

When he’s done, he lifts his head with a smirk, “See how good we taste together?”

Rising to his knees, he scans my body, splayed, bound, and bloody beneath him. Then he reaches across the bed, grabs his knife, and flips it open.

“I would keep you like this,” Colson covers my knuckles with his hand and jerks the blade up, slicing through the belt, “but I don’t think you’re going anywhere.” Then he reaches down and loosens the strap, making my wrists and fingers tingle as the blood rushes back through them.

And I don’t go anywhere. Not yet, anyway. Colson disappears into the dark hallway and strolls back into the room a minute later with a first aid kit. For the next five minutes, he kneels between my legs in silence and I watch him gently clean the smeared blood off my skin and patch up my six-inch knife wound with Neosporin and extra-large bandages. But it’s anything but silent; our eyes bounce glances off one another with subtle movements of the mouth, carrying on a conversation only we can hear.

Only once I’m lying on his chest, beneath his arm, listening to his heart beat, do I open my mouth to speak.

I crane my head against Colson’s chest as he swipes and taps his phone, “What are you doing?”

“Ordering some Thai,” he finishes what he’s doing and tosses his phone onto the sheets next to him.

I draw in an excited breath, “That’s my favorite! ” I whisper with a grin.

“I know it is,” he reaches up with his free arm and stretches, arching his back, “Pad See Ew with tofu. But it’s not because you’re vegetarian, you just like the texture.”

How the hell does he know that?

I don’t even bother asking. I just slowly sink back down and settle my cheek against his chest again .

After a few moments in silence, I glance up at him, “I’m going to tell my parents what you did, Colson,” I say while tracing random curves over his stomach with my fingertip.

I don’t even have to look at him, but I know he’s smiling.

“Are you really, baby?” his baritone voice vibrates against my cheek.

I nod, “Yes. That way, they’ll know from the start how fucked up you are.”

He glances down at me, “By default, you’ll be admitting to them how fucked up you are, too.”

“They can’t say anything,” I shrug, “they got engaged after two weeks. They’re hardly responsible.”

“Two weeks, huh? What’ll they say when you tell them you said yes to me before I even took you on a proper date?”

I scoff at his arrogance, “You’re crazy…”

“You want to know crazy?” Colson chuckles, “I saw your mom the next morning when I came out of your house. She’ll probably recognize me when you take me home with you.”

My eyes round and I jerk my head up.

He nods, “I left from that walking path next to your house. Your mom was coming out of the garage to go on a run. She’s pretty hardcore. But she’s Canadian, right? She’s used to jogging in six feet of snow. Anyway, she said hi to me and I thought about stopping.” He looks down at me with a salacious grin, “Do you think she had any idea I climbed down from your bedroom a few minutes earlier, after I watched her baby sleep all night?”

It still makes my skin crawl, knowing Colson was watching me, in my bedroom, for an entire night. But I still can’t shake the idiotic feeling that goes along with it—the one where I secretly enjoy how deranged he is and can’t even begin to explain it.

“You’re nuts,” I murmur, furrowing my brow at him as he strokes my jawline, “ You’re fucking nuts. ”

He is wholly unfazed, “Is that why you love fighting with me while I fuck you? It makes you feel like you’re not complicit in my behavior?” His mouth twitches into a smirk, “If you act a little angry at first, then you don’t feel guilty when you’re riding my dick like your life depends on it?”

“How did you end up in my class this semester?” I ask abruptly, refusing to answer him.

But he’s willing to answer any question I throw at him, “The first day back, I followed you to class and just went in. Then I changed my schedule while I was sitting next to you.”

He also has an answer for everything.

“What if I didn’t like you?” I press, “Or what if I hadn’t given you another chance?”

Colson gives me a slow kiss on the forehead, “You would have.”

“What if I didn’t?” I don’t know what kind of answer I’m looking for, but I’m sure I’ll know it when I hear it .

Colson looks down his shoulder at me, “You probably think I’m your worst nightmare,” he states with nonchalance, “but I don’t need to be. Get over your weak, socially constructed hangups about how love should be expressed and let me be the rock you stand on to do all the great things you’re meant to do. That’s all that matters, anyway.”

That’s all that matters.

“But how do you know? ” I ask, “How could you know that?”

“Brett,” Colson takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, “everything I believe comes from the natural world—the dirt, the trees, the water...and if you ever just stop and listen, away from distractions, and feel the connection you have with it, you’ll know what I’m talking about. Maybe that’s what people think God is, but it’s like you’re sharing a pulse and a heartbeat with the earth and all the elements around you. And when you feel it, you know it’s exactly where you’re supposed to be.” He pauses for a moment, “And the only human I’ve ever felt that with is you. When I saw you, you were all these great moments in my life somehow stitched together to create a whole person. I knew you were supposed to stay with me from that moment on, because I was exactly where I was supposed to be—with you. And, now, I can’t see anyone but you.”

I sit in silence for a minute, marinating on his words—on him.

“Colson,” I take a breath, “you are a nightmare. You can be scary as hell and you hide it perfectly. But, for some reason, I still like being with you. I still like sitting with you in your darkness.”

“If you like being with me, then stay with me.”

I nod with a smile, “Well, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to drive home in the middle of the night, so yes.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I mean longer than that—forever. When I leave here in a couple months, come with me and write your books and do whatever you want to do. And if you decide you want to go somewhere else, I’ll take you there, too.”

People don’t do that—not really. No sane person just decides on a whim to run off to the mountains with some guy they barely know.

I push away from his chest and straighten up, “I shouldn’t still like you after everything you’ve done, and I definitely don’t know you well enough to say whether I love you. What I do know should be enough to get a restraining order and go into hiding.”

Colson grins, “Is that how you treat your one and only?” He intertwines his fingers in mine and kisses the inside of my wrist, “It doesn’t matter whether you say you love me in the next three minutes or the next three years. If you’re here, that’s all that matters.”

“You wouldn’t care if I never said I love you?” I press him.

“Baby, you’re such a terrible liar,” Colson scoffs, “you’re too curious. It’s why you let me drive you to Cincy tonight. It’s why you came home with me. You want to see what happens when you say yes to me. You want to see how it feels .” He grabs my leg and pulls me onto his lap, facing away from him. Then he pulls his knees up to spread my legs apart, “Just like you’re dying to know what it would’ve been like if I hadn’t been such a gentleman at mommy and daddy’s house.”

He reaches between my legs into his boxer briefs and takes out his cock, solid and at attention, then he raises two fingers and taps them on my bottom lip, “Open,” when I do, he slides them over my tongue, “get them wet for me, baby.”

I do what he says and close my lips around his fingers, sucking and swirling my tongue around them. After he takes them out, he reaches between my legs and strokes my clit, sending a full body shiver through me. Then he dips down and slides them in and out of my pussy until his fingers are soaked.

“You don’t—” I can barely speak, “You can’t just—”

And then I forget what I’m saying altogether as I watch Colson stroke his entire length in front of me, lubing it up with my arousal before he loosens his grip around my waist and lets me slide onto him. I throw my head back onto his shoulder and clench against him, making him groan into my neck.

“Close your eyes, Brett,” a moment later, I feel his hand clamp over my mouth and he murmurs into my ear, “Now be really quiet, so Jo doesn’t wake up next door and find little sis in such a precarious position.” My eyes fly open in shock as he plants his heels on the mattress and starts thrusting up into me, sending me into a tailspin.

“Listen closely, Honeybee,” Colson groans into my ear as my chest heaves, “mine is the only touch that will make you feel anything ever again, and my touch is the one you’ll long for, no matter how far you try to run. After being dead for so long, your voice is what brought me back to life, and your pulse is what keeps my heart beating. You have all of me, forever, no matter what. And whether or not you know it yet, I’m the one you’ll always come back to. Because I’m your home now, and you are mine. ”

I sink into the warm darkness of Colson’s arms and imagine what it might’ve been like if he hadn’t stayed put at the edge of my bed. And I love it, shaking and screaming muted sobs into his hand while he turns me inside out. Maybe it’s because now I know it’s him and not some grotesque creep in the shadows.

The devil you know, right?

Was I in love with Colson that night? No. But did I want to stay with him and find out if I could be? Yes.

I never told him because I never got the chance, but I was going to go with him to Colorado. He was going to be the one impulsive and irrational thing I did just because I could. And that was my last thought before I fell asleep, wrapped in his embrace while I listened to his steady breaths at my neck and felt his chest rising and falling against my back .

The first time I saw Colson was in a dream at my childhood home on the lake. But, hours later, standing in front of my bathroom mirror, staring at my battered body with drenched hair, it felt like he no longer exists, like he never left that dream. But the marks are real; they’re still here even after I woke up, and they came from him.

Colson was right, I got what no one else does—to wake up from a nightmare with the monster still here.

I can’t even get dressed before sinking down onto the floor, crouching on the lemon-yellow rug, clutching my head through silent screams and sobs.

Barrett’s right, too…

It makes sense why you do the weird shit you do.

Compulsively looking in rearview mirrors, checking backseats, double-checking window locks, triple-checking door locks, memorizing escape plans, avoiding sliding glass doors, living with the fear that I will see Colson’s formidable silhouette on the other side of the glass. It’s no way to live, but I adapted because that’s what humans do in order to function.

And, even after all that, I realize survival is relative.

And if Colson wants to find me, he’s going to find me.