35. Clint
THIRTY-FIVE
CLINT
I watch as my Petal sleeps peacefully. She’s a vision. An angel. Then again, that could be the dress talking—Scarlet’s a vision in white.
“Rise and shine,” I trill, checking my watch.
The sedative should wear off soon. I only gave her a small dose.
Maybe I got her weight wrong? I shake off the thought.
It’s silly. I know everything about her, down to ger cycle.
Which means if I want to impregnant my wife on our honeymoon, we really need to get the ball rolling. Colorado’s a long drive from here.
The tulle of the dress rustles as she stirs, her features screwing up much the way they did when I injected her.
The memory of causing her pain momentarily sours my mood.
I don’t ever want to hurt her… but I will if I have to.
The sooner she realizes I know what’s best for her, the better for everyone involved.
“Come on now, Petal. Open those pretty eyes for me.” A sigh rips through me as I pace the length of the room. “I need you to wake up so we can pack.”
I didn’t want it to come to this—to any of this, but she’s too stubborn for her own good. That’s okay though, I know I can get her to see reason. To see that we’re meant to be together.
“Where am I?” she asks, her voice groggy from the lingering sedative in her system.
“You’re finally where you belong.”
“Clint?” She blinks and tries to rub her eyes, but the rope binding her wrists stops her.
I can see the moment it all comes rushing back. Her entire body tenses before she begins thrashing like a cornered animal, but my knots hold.
“Stop that!” I scold. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“You’re hurting me,” she whimpers, her eyes darting around the dimly lit space.
“I wouldn’t have to hurt you if you’d just listen.”
“Okay.” She nods, tears filling her eyes. “I-I’m listening.”
Having her solitary focus is a rush—a high better than any drug. She’s all mine, mine, mine and she’s looking at me, me, me.
Finally.
“Good.” I grab a chair from the table and drag it over to where I have her bound on the loveseat in my studio apartment. “The first time I saw you… I knew you were the one.”
“At… The Creek?” she asks, causing me to grind my molars.
“No.” I twitch in my seat, muscles straining as I hold myself back from striking her. She shouldn’t be bruised for our wedding. “We met years ago. In high school.”
“Did we?” Her voice is barely a whisper as she looks anywhere but at me. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”
I stand abruptly, sending my chair flying backwards. “Don’t worry, Petal.” I twine my fingers into her hair and wrench her gaze up to meet mine. “I’m happy to help you remember.”
“Clint, please stop.”
“You beg so pretty.” I tighten my grip before forcing her away. “We met sophomore year. Biology. I… I let you copy my notes.”
“Oh… Oh!” She swallows thickly. “That was you.”
“Surprise!” I throw my hands out wide, accidentally clipping her in the temple.
She cries out, and I rush her, brushing her hair away from her face to inspect the point of contact. “It’s only a little red. You’ll be fine.”
“Please let me go,” she sobs.
“Let you go?” I tsk at her. “Petal, I can’t let you go. You’re mine, don’t you get it?”
She shakes her head, and I see red. “This is the start of our forever,” I shout. “Soon, you’ll be Scarlet Downey and—”
“Clint, stop, please,” she cuts me off, her voice going higher and higher with each word.
“Do. Not. Interrupt. Me.” I bite off the words, seething. “A good bride is seen and not heard.”
“Bride?” It seems as pretty as she is, Scarlet’s a little slow on the uptake.
“Haven’t you noticed your dress?”
Her eyes flare wide as she glances down, taking in the satin and tulle dress I had made for her. “You… dressed me?” Her delicate throat bobs as she inspects herself as best she can with her limited range of movement.
I groan as a vision of me crushing her windpipe slams into me. Lucky for her, I shake off the urge. This is not the time for violence. Not yet.
“Of course.” I boop her nose. “You couldn’t very well do it while you were sleeping. Now, we need to pack. We’re already behind schedule.”
“Behind schedule—” Her jaw snaps shut with an audible clack. “You know what, you’re… you’re right. You should, um, untie me so I can help you.”
I cast her a dubious look.
“We…” Her eyes slide left to right as she studies the tulle. “We have a-a lot of time to make up for, right?” she asks, and I nod. “And y-you said we were going to be late. So let… let me help.”
Silently, I weigh the pros and cons of untying her. I may as well. Worst case, I can sedate her again.
“Okay.” I move around to the back of the loveseat. “But, Petal, don’t make me regret this.”
“I-I won’t.”
She cradles her wrists to her chest once the ropes give way, massaging them to aid her circulation.
“There’s a suitcase in the closet,” I tell her. “Along with some clothes for you. Pack them all.”
She nods and tries to stand, wobbling dangerously before regaining her balance. “Okay.”
I watch her like a hawk as she stumbles toward the closet. Luckily my place is small and allows me to see her no matter what. My Petal can’t hide from me here.
She’s trying to hide the shaking of her hands as she rifles through the closet. “Are these... my clothes?”
“Mostly. I bought a few things, too.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders shake as she wraps her arms around herself. “Okay.”
She’s crying. Why is she crying? I tip my head to the side as I study her. She must be excited about the new clothes and overcome with gratitude.
“You don’t need to cry, Petal. A few new outfits are the least of what I have planned for you.” I flick my eyes to the empty suitcase and clap my hands together twice and order, “Get to packing.”
“Sorry.” She rips a shirt off the hanger and throws it into the open suitcase.
“Neatly, Scarlet.” My voice cracks like a whip through the small space.
She visibly recoils before bending at the waist to retrieve the shirt, returning it to the suitcase after folding it nice and tidy.
“Much better,” I say, my tone softer. “Wouldn’t want you to have wrinkles.”
“What about work?” she asks.
“Work?” Why is she worried about work? Doesn’t she know I’ll take care of her?
“Yeah, you know.” She adds another shirt to the suitcase. “Our jobs.”
“Oh, Petal.” I shake my head. “Your only job will be raising our kids. I’ll provide for you.”
“Kids?” She whips around to face me so quickly her legs tangle in her dress, and she pitches sideways.
Ever the gentleman, I dart forward to catch her, holding her trembling body close to mine. “Of course. A boy and a girl.” I press my nose to her hair and inhale, breathing in her sweet citrussy scent.
“Um.” She’s tense in my arms, not melting into me like she should. Why is she not melting?
“Um, what?” My voice snaps out, making her flinch.
“This just all seems so... fast.”
“Fast?” I shout as I shove her away from me, sending her crashing to the floor in a tangle of limbs and tulle. “I’ve been waiting years. Literal years, Scarlet. It’s not my fault you never noticed me.”
I stare down at her as she cowers on the floor. Something dark inside of me delights at seeing her fear. “Why didn’t you ever notice me?” I roar, slamming my hands down onto the small table.
“I’m sorry,” she cries. “Clint, p-please, I’m sorry.”
The sight of her glassy eyes and tear-stained cheeks soothes the monster raging inside of me, and I rush to her, bundling her up into my arms. “It’s okay, Petal. Everything’s going to be okay now. But we need to get on the road soon.”
“Can I, um, can I ask where we’re going?” she asks, leaning away from me. I don’t like that she’s leaning away. She should lean in.
I tighten my arms, leaving her zero wiggle room. “That’s for me to know.”
“Right. Oh-okay.” She nods, and I release her.
“I just need to get a few things in order.” I stomp over to my bedside table and fling open the drawer. “Something old, something new. Something borrowed, something blue.”
“Oh god.” She sniffles, her right hand shooting up to her throat. “Clint, where’s all of my stuff? My necklace?”
“You don’t need those things anymore.” My lip curls as I think about her scrubs and sneakers.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why don’t I need my phone...” She looks down at her bare feet. “My shoes.” She touches her throat again. “My necklace.”
I just barely stifle my eye roll. “If you must know, your phone is smashed on the side of the interstate. Your clothes are in a dumpster. Anything you need, I will provide for you. Now, let me focus, Scarlet.”
“Here’s the new,” I mutter, ignoring her as I set the lace wedding garter on my bed. “Borrowed and blue.” I add the bracelet I nicked from Cara beside it, the blue gemstones sparkling even in the low lighting. “Old...” I scratch my head. “Old...” How did I forget old?
“M-my necklace!” Scarlet practically shouts. “It’s old. It was... my mom’s. She passed it down to me. That’s why... why I asked about it.”
My sweet, precious, perfect Petal. Always so in tune with my needs. “It’s in the kitchen. I’ll retrieve it.”
I grab the necklace from the kitchen counter, fingering the delicate wing of the butterfly. It’s fitting for her, really. “Turn around and lift your hair.”
She sucks in shuddering breath before giving me her back.
“Your hair. Lift it.”
“Right. Sorry.” She gathers her hair, exposing her graceful neck to me.
So slender... the perfect size for my hand. My dick hardens in my pants as a vision of me crushing her neck in my grip flashes through my brain. I rub myself against her before I can stop myself. She whimpers.
“You like that. Don’t you?” I hook the clasp before giving into the urge, palming her throat and pulling her closer, pushing my erection against her ass. “You’ll be my perfect little slut, won’t you?”
She whimpers again, and it’s so delicious, I swear I can taste it on my tongue. “I wanted to wait until we were wed to consummate our vows, but if you need it now...”
“No!” she rushes, her voice hoarse from my hold on her. “Let’s... let’s wait. So it can be...” Her throat flexes as she swallows. “Special.”
“Pretty, perfect Petal.” I release her and step away. “Let me finishing packing, and then we can go.”
“Okay, Clint.” She reaches up, gripping the butterfly charm between her fingers.
“Don’t call me that,” I snap. “I’m your sweetheart, so call me that. Say it. Now.” I’m practically giddy with anticipation. The mere thought of her sweet lips uttering sweetheart is nearly enough to undo me.
“Oh-okay, Sweet—” She squeezes the pendant harder as she swallows. “Sweetheart.”