29
Emaline
I asked Xavier to borrow his car,and he refused to let me go alone for fear that I might be followed. The unbearable strain from the stress was too much, and I broke down crying. I didn’t mean to be such a wimp, but I’ve reached my limit and can’t do it anymore.
“Where are you going?” It is a reasonable question that deserves an honest answer.
“To meet Austin,” I tell him, and his mood lifts slightly.
“Okay,” he said, asking no further questions. “He’ll look after you, but I request one thing, Em.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” I ask breathlessly because I’m so apprehensive about what I’m about to do.
“Message me when you arrive there and then again when you leave to return home,” he says sternly, and I heed his concern.
“I promise,” I assert as he leans down and kisses me on my cheek, then presses his lips against mine.
I open my mouth to tell him what I’m doing and where I’m, but I feel he already knows. Some things don’t need to be said. Giving Aaron a smile as a goodbye, I take Xavier’s key from his hand and head upstairs to grab my coat and hand-knitted scarf. I had the urge to contact Rosie to ask her if I was doing the right thing, and naturally, she said no.
That’s why I decided not to message her; I need yeses. After all, this is the only path I can see to solve my problem. I can’t have my grandparents homeless, and I just can’t let that happen. Even if they sold the house, they’d never find a buyer for the hardware store with the giant hardware warehouse across the road with a million shelves of every tool and home fitting imaginable. My grandparents’ dream has been destroyed in the space of two years, and maybe we have to resign to the fact that sometimes life can turn a corner that you least expect.
I am starting to accept our fate, but I cannot take for a single moment that my grandparents will be homeless, which will happen if the bank forecloses the house because I doubt they will be able to afford a lovely home with all the debt they have accumulated. So, instead of living under an umbrella of illusion, pretending that it will go away, I’m taking action.
It was the longest drive I have ever taken, not just because I was so terrified of how he would treat me but because every set of headlights that followed me fed my anxiety about the possibility that the Viches were nearby.
I approach Demon Cove, and apprehension is replaced with anticipation and wiggle in my seat when my panties moisten. Hoping that my period hadn’t just arrived, I used the light on my phone to check between my legs once I parked Xavier”s car. Nope. It’s just ordinary sex juice from being aroused.
Using the light on my phone to guide the way, I open the iron gate and jump in fright at the squeak. Immediately, I spot the outline of his bike parked outside the church and glance down at the cracked path beneath my feet to keep going.
A twig snaps behind me, and I pant as I increase my pace, realizing that my light is giving me away, but I can’t walk to the graveyard without it. I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but I keep seeing shadows moving and hearing footsteps, reminding me of when Kieran and Kody captured Rosie and me to stow us away in the tomb.
Could this night be a repeat of that night? Am I about to meet my fate?
My feet stop dead on the graveyard”s edge when a dreaded thought occurs. What if the text from Austin is not actually from Austin? What if someone stole his phone and tried to lure me into a trap?
My commonsense is quick to prompt me that only one person, besides me and the Leroux brothers, knows about this secret deal, and that’s Rosie, and she wouldn’t trick me.
As soon as I spot dim light coming from the direction of the tomb door, I take a deep breath and let it guide my way. I’m surprisingly clear that this is the best and only option, but his choice of location is …unnerving. But then, it was always about him choosing me as his favored piece of meat on the Butcher’s Block. Yep, that sure makes me feel good about myself, but I have plenty of years ahead of me to flush out the shame with therapy.
I keep my eyes low to focus on the uneven ground beneath my feet, step over the corners of graves, weave between headstones, and freeze again when I hear thudding footsteps. It’s hard to determine where the footsteps are coming from as the sound bounces about the empty open space. I glance behind me, holding my light up, and then point it toward the tomb door, where I spot something moving. But when my eyes adjust, I realize the movement is a tree branch swaying. There is a gentle breeze out here, but it’s not strong enough to sway that branch like it does when other branches aren’t.
My heart races as cold drips land on my nose of rain closing in, and I try to increase my pace to avoid getting wet. But I’m clumsy and trip over the stone corner of a grave and manage to stop myself from falling to the ground. I stop once more to catch my bearings and find the slit of slit coming from the partially open door of the tomb. Fear encases me, and I’m close to screaming his name, but would he bother coming if I called? The only times he does anything that resembles kindness is at his brothers’ request, with the only exception of fixing the taillights of my van.
For my peace of mind and sanity, it is better to view him as nothing but a figure in the dark without a heart and soul, and this event is nothing but a trade. My shame for his money.
Finally, I arrive at the heavy door of the crypt and am greeted by that nauseating scent of dusty old bones smashed together with candle wax.
There is a lit candle on each step, guiding me down, and when I reach the bottom, I shiver from the eerie, penetrating chill of being underground, surrounded by death.
I walk precariously down the short corridor to the crypt area and expect to see that sullen figure standing there with his usual indifferent expression. Instead, the crypt is empty, with no sign of life apart from lit candles casting scary, moving shadows upon the stone walls.
My gaze lands on the cold stone cube Butcher’s Block, and I wonder how many women, the chosen ones, have lowered their pride to sit, legs spread for an arrogant jock to penetrate her for one night. I suspect this is what the hell is.
“You’ve arrived,” his voice shivers down my spine, and I twist behind me to find him standing over me, dangerously close.
I step back nervously. “Oh, I didn’t hear you come in.” I swallow as reality hits that I’m about to do something terrible.
“Let’s get this over and done with,” Austin snarls as I catch the scent of alcohol, and my immediate thought is that he had to numb his feelings with alcohol to have sex with me. That’s how low he views me.
“What do I do?” I ask, then feel stupid for asking. His mood is dark and sinister, and I don’t feel safe alone with him.
“Get on the block,” he says coldly as if it should be obvious.
I slowly tread to the stone grave, trying to brush away the image of the eroding skeleton inside it and attempt to lift myself onto the stone. When it’s apparent that I’m struggling, Austin appears before me and effortlessly lifts me with my backside on the cold slate.
“Ab-bout the money,” I stutter because I’m so cold and nervous and hate everything about this moment.
“No money until I get what I want,” he says cruelly, and it strikes me that I should’ve asked for a monetary deposit first. That’s one stupid move on my behalf.
A gasp escapes my lips when he unzips my jeans and drags them roughly down my legs as I come so close to telling him to stop. Instead, I bite my lip as a stray tear falls down my cheek, and once I realize I wipe it away with the back of my hand, hoping he didn’t notice.
His warm hands seize my naked thighs as he positions himself between my legs, giving me a short sharp tug so his crotch is aligning with my vag.
His narrowed eyes seem to soften for a few seconds, running over my lips, glasses, and hair. “D-do you want me to take them off?”
“No,” he grunts, before claiming my mouth, sucking my bottom lip. His hands find my cheeks, forcibly pushing my mouth hard against his as he bites my bottom lip and runs his hands back down to my thighs.
I am so wet and hot for him, yet I use all of my strength to restrain my desire to be consumed and devoured by him. He tastes of alcohol, and his tongue does a heavenly dance with mine until something comes over him, and a monster emerges. When my body tenses in fear, it spurs him on to hold me tighter in a cage, and I don’t have the strength to fight him off.
I can’t breathe as he demolishes my mouth, lips, and tongue, and those hands grip my panties, snapping the elastic, ripping them off. I’m so wet and ache for him to climb inside me to douse every cell in my body with his touch and set me on fire.
His fingers are so close to touching my clit, and I can feel his hunger to slide inside my sodden core. He takes my bottom lip between his teeth and presses down, and the metallic taste of blood seeps into my mouth.
A finger brushes lightly against my clit, and a sigh escapes my lips longing for him to make me his, but instead, he stops dead. He pauses for a few seconds before releasing his cage and stepping away.
“D-did I do something wrong?” I ask as he turns his back on me and wipes his mouth with the base of his palm.
He refuses to answer me, but it’s evident that he’s disturbed by something as he roughs his short hair up with his finger, still refusing to meet my eye.
I try to make sense out of his behavior. “D-did I-”
“I can’t do this,” he snaps, still with his back partially turned on me where I can see half of his face and his expression is pained.
“Um, was it that bad?” I force a chuckle, trying to make fun of myself in this severe moment of being rejected by a man I’ve crushed on for far too long.
He tenses and places his hands on his hips, the expression changing from pained to confused. “What?”
“I know you’re not attracted to me, so it must’ve been difficult for you to be…you know, aroused-”
“What?” he barks, now turning to face me directly with a murderous expression on his face. He’s offended or angry, and fear trembles along my spine. I remember forgetting to message Xavier when I arrived here; now, I know why he wanted me to because his brother is a psycho. This entire situation of being down in a crypt surrounded by dead things is psychotic.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I breathe.
“Hurt you?” that scowl deepens. “Fuck, Em, you’re on another fucking planet. You couldn’t be more wrong.”
“Famous last words from those who trusted Ted Bundy, I’m sure,” I argue, and those lips of his tug at the sides.
“I can’t do this,” he shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You’ve already said that,” another tear falls as I slide off the block to retrieve my broken panties and discarded jeans. This rejection is more than I can handle.
“I’ll organize for the money to be transferred into your bank account,” he says flatly.
“No,” I hit, scrambling to put my jeans back on. “Forget it. Forget this even happened. Forget I asked you in the first place. It was stupid of me.”
“I can’t do this because it’s wrong,” his voice is like gravel. “You’re too good for this, Em.”
I glance up at him and swallow back my humiliation. “Is that a nice way to say you find me unattractive?”
He tilts his head to the side, confused. “What?”
“That’s the third time you’ve said ‘what’ in the past five minutes. Your vocabulary needs expanding,” I jab, buttoning my jeans.
“Em, where the fuck did you get the idea that I’m not attracted to you?” he snarls, drilling me with those scowling eyes.
“It’s obvious,” I sigh. “You can’t do it with me because you’re not turned on by me.”
A wide, beautiful smile stretches across his face, and I can’t interpret it. Is he mocking me or not? “Em, fuck,” he starts, chucking as he shakes his head, “I am very attracted to you.”
My heart skips a beat, and I wonder if I misheard. “You’re just being nice.”
He points to his face. “Do I look like the type of man that would say things just to be nice?”
“No, but this is an unusual moment,” I reason.
“True. But…” he becomes uncomfortable and keeps roughing up his hair, avoiding my eye, until he places his hands on his hips again and focuses that gaze on my squirming face. “Em,” he exhales, “I think you’re one of the most beautiful I’ve ever met. I am fucking nuts about you.”
Hot tears fill my eyes, and my glasses fog, so I take them off to clean the lenses on my coat. “How?” is my stupid question.
“How?” he’s puzzled by my question.
“How is that possible?” I sob, wiping my tears under my glasses. God, I can hardly see my eyes are so wet and blurry.
“I have asked that same question many times myself, but the problem is I can’t get you out of my head, and right now…this,” pointing at our cold, depressing surroundings, “is not what I want for you. This is not right.”
“What do you want for me?” I enquire curiously, sniffing.
He hesitates and glances about before holding that gaze on my face again. “The world. I want you to have the fucking world.”
I’m stunned by his words and struggle to know what to say. This is not the Austin I have come to know. This man before me is open and beautiful and wants the best for me.
“Um, you want me to have the world?” I clarify in case I misheard.
“Yes. I want you to have the fucking world,” he growls without hesitation.
“But does this world have you in it too?” I ask softly.
His Adam’s apple bounces as he swallows and I have the impression that what he’s about to say is difficult. “If you want it,” he answers, a little non-committed.
“Do you want it?” I press. I need to hear it from those sultry lips. I need to hear him say it aloud.
“Yes,” he says, stepping closer. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”
He stands over me with those eyes warm and full of love, a vast difference from how he looked at me moments before. “Then take me, Austin. Take me.”