Chapter 29 BETH #2
Another man? Did he know he was the other man here? The imposter?
Callan was the man. The one who held my heart and disappeared with it.
This right here was just a parasite. Did he know he was a disease I wanted to carve out? Bleed out?
His hand rose, his palm cupping my cheek harshly, but not enough to hurt. “Let me see him.” I maintained humility, helplessness, giving him the illusion of power that he so desperately craved. “Please.”
His jaw twitched again, anger flashing in his eyes. Then his hand slid from my cheek, wrapping around my throat, flexing. Of course, his favourite language. If he didn’t threaten one with death for a day, I doubted he would have a normal day.
“He’s not coming.” His tone was a low growl, like a man holding back rage. “Not anytime soon.”
My chest tightened, and I could hear the echo of my heart shattering. “Why?”
“He might not even come back at all…” A malicious look flashed in his eyes. “…if you piss me off.”
The words landed like a punch to my ribs.
I barely registered the pain in my jaw with every word spoken anymore.
What did he mean by that? Was he planning on sealing Callan off?
Would he never let Callan take control back?
He told me he only borrowed the body. When you borrowed something, it was only right to return it, wasn’t it?
What was he saying now?
“B-but–”
“Hush.” He leaned in, his lips grazing my ear, warm breath heating my skin.
“We made a deal.” His thumb pressed on the vein flexing below my right ear. “And I won.”
A slow, satisfied breath broke past his lips. “You’re mine for now.”
I wiggled against his captivity, seeking for freedom, a crack I could slip through, but his grip on my neck tightened, enough to make me gasp.
Then his voice dropped to a husky whisper.
“You’re mine until I have had enough of you.
Until these fucking eyes starts to bore me, and your fire no longer drives me insane.
” His thumb flexed on the pulsing vein below my ear.
“When you no longer excite me, feed my curiosity. When you’re no longer the perfect prey I wanted to hunt, the angel whose innocence I needed to destroy…
” he took a dramatic pause, his eyes scanning my face, fingers pressing harder on the pulse. “I’ll snap this neck.”
My heart continued to ram against my rib cage at the poison seeping from every word he spoke. Through my fluttering lashes and the eyes blurred with tears, I watched as his eyes widened with a different kind of frenzy, one that looked disturbingly like my death had already taken shape in his mind.
“If you were not already doing that, then from now on, I’m the only man you should think about.” His thumb smeared my lipstick across my jaw, my eyes fluttering as heat licked at my skin.
“In every waking moment, every lonely night when you want be wrapped in someone’s arms, you will fucking think about Zaghan.”
My pulse stuttered beneath the weight of his fingers.
“Don’t let another man get in my way.” The darkness in his voice grew, and the knots forming in my stomach twisted harder. “Don’t fucking dare.”
“W-what?”
He silenced me by dragging his thumb further across my lips. Then he suddenly pulled my face closer, without warning, clashing his mouth into mine, claiming my lips in a bruising kiss.
It was possessive, all-consuming, a brand being seared into the soul. By the time he pulled away, my lungs were heavy, my lips raw. And I was sure I looked like a fucking possessed doll with red all over my mouth.
He studied me for a moment, panting. Then suddenly, he slowly released his hand from my throat, letting the hand drop to my chest. His fingers brushed against my skin as he fixed my remaining buttons, then my tie.
Done, he stepped away from my space, straightening his cuffs like nothing happened.
“Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I’ll be picking you up from school today,” he said, smoothing out his shirt. “Don’t make other plans. And if there are outstanding plans.” His gaze lifted to me, eyes intent. “Cancel them.”
He turned toward the door, about to walk away, but something caught his eyes at the other side of the room.
It was a framed picture of Mother hanging on the wall. I noticed it, the sudden shadow in his expression, the careful way his jaw tightened, the gentle way his fingers flexed, as if to wrap around something.
“The scars on your back,” he suddenly asked, voice like a blade, and I froze, the same way I did when he saw the scars for the first time where he began bleeding his rot into me. His reaction hadn’t been like Callan. He didn’t drag in air, he didn’t see the pain behind the scar.
He had pressed a finger into the deepest gash that day, as if pain were a door and he finally found the key.
“How did they come about?” His eyes landed back on me, dark and cold. “The fucking scars?”
“Religious people,” I said simply. “Trying to fix me.”
He didn’t ask for clarification. And I was glad he didn’t.
His gaze lingered for a second too long, dark and haunting. Then he nodded once. Just once.
I saw his finger flex again, then curl into his palm, slow and deliberate.
Then he finally murmured, “See you later, Elizabeth.”
He began to head for the door, shoulders squared, steps commanding. At the door, he hesitated, as if there was something he suddenly remembered to say.
“I’m watching you, Elizabeth,” he warned, voice like a whip. “Don’t fucking look at another man. Don’t smile at them. Don’t entertain them.”
And with that, he was gone, leaving behind the scent of whiskey and the echo of his dark promise.
???
“I really think you should talk to him,” Kenzo said, his pace falling into rhythm with mine as we wove our way through the chaos of students flooding out of the school.
“Talk to him about what, exactly?” I asked, my voice taut and clipped, tension weaving into my bones.
We usually had Introductory Psychology Mondays and Tuesdays.
Today, I didn’t attend the class because, well, I was scared.
What if it was today Mr. Donald would decide to point me out?
Besides that, his presence alone, knowing he was a man who knew my secret, unsettled me.
I didn’t want to see him. Not yet. I felt like I would break if I did.
And Kenzo felt I shouldn’t have to live like that. This was a school, a teacher shouldn’t be allowed to taunt and psychologically bully students.
But what would talking to him fix? He hadn’t directly mentioned my name.
Kenzo sidestepped a kid who almost barreled into him.
“He’s clearly making you uncomfortable. And I think that’s what he wants. To make you scared. You need to ask him why he’s trying to make you scared.”
I tightened my grip on the strap of my rucksack, his words making my chest heavier.
“Remember what he said about being here for the rest of Autumn? Yeah, that’s still more than a month. Imagine going through anxiety for that long?”
I took in a sharp breath before speaking.
“Whatever he’s doing, he’s doing it because he knows something. Confronting him will cement whatever he thinks he knows if it was just a guess before.”
“There are ways to do these things.” He slung an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer. “You have be coded when you ask him.”
I arched my brow. “And by coded, you mean?”
He didn’t answer immediately. His hold on me seemed to suddenly tighten protectively, his gaze somewhere far away. And when I glanced up at him, I noticed his expression hardening.
“What is it?” I followed his line of sight.
“What’s he doing here?”
Alarm prickled down my spine. And when my eyes finally fell on the black SUV he was staring at, my stomach lurched.
It was parked in the teacher’s spot, windows tinted, the weight of unseen eyes pressing, assessing.
My heart pounded.
He was actually not kidding?