Chapter 42 Kali
KALI
Once we were inside the house, Zion shut the door, closing me in with a madman—him.
His fingers crept up the wall in search of a switch. “Why are the lights off?”
“No,” I exclaimed, rushing to pry him off the entrance. “I don’t want Gedeon to see what we’re doing.”
His tongue darted out, wetting his lips and causing my core to tense. “And what exactly are we doing?”
“Hiding,” I whispered, as if the door would betray me by carrying my confession outside.
Based on the ride here and Gedeon’s promise to make us pay, I figured I wasn’t going to be able to get out of bed tomorrow. The last time I’d disobeyed Gedeon, he’d tanned my ass so hard I’d dripped down my thighs and couldn’t sit without a pillow underneath me in the morning.
“Is that so?” Zion slowly pulled his knife out of its sheath. “Then we better do it properly.”
“Zion.” I backed away, the floorboards giving way to the plush carpet drowning out my steps and—
My upper thighs collided with something solid.
Ignoring the slight ache obliterating my nerve endings, I clutched the edge of the kitchen table. Adrenaline drenched me as my blood roared and my palms grew clammy. I was all too familiar with the wicked things Zion could do with that knife. “No.”
He tapped the shell of his ear. “Such a beautiful ‘yes’ you just gave me.” Smirking, he threw the knife into the air.
The blade gleamed in the dim moonlight flowing through the three large windows.
Catching it by the handle, the trick I couldn’t learn for the life of me, Zion stalked closer. “Let’s have some fun.”
Oh, no. No, no, no.
How long had it been since Zion had a plaything in his underground? Days, a week—
Shit. It’d been half a month already. No wonder he was so wound up.
Navigating around the chairs, their legs clattering as I staggered around them, I slunk along the length of the kitchen table—
A loud rattle stopped me in my tracks. Zion stilled. The longest second ever ticked by before the wood creaked again. The door’s handle twisted, left and right, the rattling softer this time, but not a soul managed to walk through the entrance.
One, two, three blinks of a hush passed, and the silence grew disquieting. Foreboding. A heavy fog set on suffocating you.
Pushing through the dread dousing—no, stoking the flames low in my abdomen—I swallowed the dryness in my mouth. “What did you do?”
Zion’s grin slowly spread. “Upped the game.”