Chapter 25 #5
I bite my lip and wrap my arms around my breasts, feeling awkward, mortified, and full of hope that he assumes everything I said was all a lie to make him come and never bring it up again.
I’m desperate to redress, yet I’m paralyzed, hoping he just leaves.
He bends to scoop up my clothes, and when he straightens, our eyes meet, and my hope fizzles out like a firecracker.
Instantly, I drop my gaze as my face heats. I’m too embarrassed to hold it, and I think I’d rather crawl farther inside the chamber and die than talk about what just happened.
I’m naked, covered in human fucking remains, and have his cum coating the inside of my thighs. I’m already at rock bottom, but Dread loves digging holes and shoving me further down when I thought I was at my lowest.
“When was the last time?” he asks quietly, tossing my clothes at my chest. I’m instantly grateful to have some coverage from his probing stare.
“I think you got enough from me tonight, don’t you?” I mutter, pointedly avoiding his gaze and brushing ash from my thigh. I only smudge more onto my skin.
“I’ll never get enough,” he retorts. I clench my teeth, hating how that makes my stomach flip.
“Answer the question, Rev.” His voice deepens in warning, and while I hate to obey him, I’m also really fucking exhausted and just want him to leave.
At least then, I can have some peace and fucking quiet while I wallow in my own self-loathing before calling an Uber to take me back to my dorm.
Fuck staying at Dread's—I can't stand to sleep in his bed without him anymore.
If Rogue wants to sleep outside the door again, the hallway in my building isn't any different than in Dread's.
More than anything, I’m desperate for a scalding hot shower and my bed.
“After you left me in the hotel,” I answer quickly, my tone hardened with impatience and annoyance. “You got a picture memorializing it, remember?”
Which I really fucking wish I didn't send now. Clearly, I lost my damn mind.
“How often?”
I sigh, rolling my eyes to the ceiling of the chamber. I think I regret not letting him burn me alive.
“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “It’s not like I was fucking counting.”
“I think you know damn well how often you’ve been playing with your cunt for the last four years. Don’t play fucking stupid, Reverie,” he snaps.
My frustration grows to the point of tears burning the backs of my eyes. Anger takes precedence over my shame, and I drop my chin and glare at him.
His fingers are curled tightly into his palms, the muscle in his jaw pulses, and his nostrils flare. I can’t tell if he’s pissed or turned on—sometimes, they look the same.
“A few times a week. Sometimes more, sometimes less,” I bite out. “Happy?”
One second, he’s across the room, and the next, he’s prowling toward me, eating up the space between us in a few long strides. I flinch as he gets in my face, planting his hands on either side of my legs and leaning in.
I stop breathing.
“You fucked three men from school,” he states. It’s not a question—he knows this for a fact.
My mouth flops, and I blink several times before I find my words. “How do you even know that?”
“And I’m sure you fucked more when you’d run away all summer break. Did you think about me when they were inside you?” he asks, ignoring my question. “Did you pretend it was me fucking you?”
His stare is intense, and while I don’t exactly know how to interpret the emotion in his eyes, I do know it has my heart racing and electricity humming beneath my skin.
Fire blooms in my cheeks, and I work to swallow, but it feels like a chunk of bread has gotten caught in my incredibly dry throat.
I clear it, a sad attempt to buy more time while I chew on my response: a lie or the truth.
His eyes narrow, sensing my internal battle. “Tell me the fucking truth, Rev.”
I drop my gaze to my lap.
“Sometimes,” I whisper, the admission breaking off my tongue.
Fuck.
I decided to lie, yet that’s not what came out of my goddamn mouth.
You’re such an idiot.
His bottom lip finds itself between his teeth, and now, it seems like he’s chewing on my response.
“And the other times?” he pushes after a moment, his voice considerably rougher. “When you didn’t?”
I don’t know why I answer. He doesn’t deserve it.
I flick a glance at him. “Then I didn’t come.”
He huffs out a humorless laugh and pushes away from me.
He nods to himself and starts to turn, but he stops to pin me with a stare I still can’t comprehend, his bottom lip back between his teeth.
He sort of looks pissed, but he also sort of looks like he wants to pin me down and fuck me all over again.
He shakes his head, seeming to make a decision I’m not aware of, and turns to leave.
“I'm going back to my own room,” I call, stopping him in his tracks, though he keeps his back turned from me.
I'm convinced he's not going to respond until I hear his low voice.
“I'll let Rogue know so he can keep watch outside your door.”
My heart squeezes, and I don't know why it hurts so much that he's okay with me going back to my own dorm, but it fucking does, and I hate him for it.
He takes another step to leave, but there's a stupid part of me that can't seem to let him go yet.
“Hey,” I call sharply, prompting him to pause once again, twisting his torso just enough for his frosted eyes to find mine. “You could’ve easily killed me, maybe even gotten away with it. Why didn't you just let me burn? It's what you've always wanted, isn't it?”
The muscle is his jaw pulses, and after a few beats, he murmurs, “If I did, I think we both know I would’ve followed you into the flames.”
Before I can respond, he turns away, his tone resolute. “Go home to your dorm tonight, Rev.”
Then, he walks out of the door, leaving me to sit naked in a chamber of human remains.