A teapot was something I never thought would end up on that list. Yet here I was, once again slung over Mason Kessler’s shoulder while tightly gripping onto the handle. As if that tiny bit of porcelain could whisk me away from this nightmare.
While I didn’t know where Mason was taking me or what was going to happen, I did know there were three blue flowers and four pink on the teapot. The blue ones had the smallest touch of yellow in them, and the pink had darker shades of the same color.
Both types were beautiful, but I preferred the one closest to the top. The chip missing from one of the petals told me how much this little dish was used.
“Maggie really loves this tea set.”
“I think you have other things to worry about, Freckles,” Mason growled while rounding a corner. “Why the fuck are you talking about a tea set?”
His logic was sound. The corridor Mason was walking down led to a set of stairs. And up there… my room. Was it weird that I thought about it as mine? I didn’t have to think about that right then. Just like I didn’t have to think about what he was going to do to me in that room. Not as long as I focused on the dish in my hand.
It was a pretty little thing, with a gold tip on the lid that glinted when we passed a light. Did her mother get it for her? Maybe her father did? I’d only seen Shelby’s parents a couple of times, but they seemed like nice people. Shelby was crushed when her father died. When I saw her moping around school, I wanted to hug her. I didn’t.
That would only encourage her to do something like show up at my house, and Daddy would have someone else to put on his radar. Star, I couldn’t stop him from finding out about, but Shelby and Riley I kept safely tucked away. He didn’t even know their names. Every time they’d text I’d tell him it was someone from school that needed help with an assignment.
If this tea-pot did come from Maggie’s dad, it might be the last thing she had of him. Something so precious needed to be taken care of.
“Mason, please let me put this down.”
He grumbled something inaudible then stomped up a step, making me slap my free hand down his back to clutch his shirt as I was jarred on his shoulder. On the upside, my bruises were healed so this ride didn’t hurt as much as the last. But it was still uncomfortable.
“Please,” I tried again.
“Drop it. Who gives a shit about a tea-pot.”
“Maggie does.” I quieted my tone when his shoulder twitched, tightening the muscle under me.Don’t poke the beast.“She’d be disappointed if it broke.”
“Oh for fuck sakes,” he muttered.
Next thing I knew, my feet were placed back on the ground. It was seriously scary how easily he did that. Mason lifted me like I weighed nothing. I couldn’t even see any labored breathing as I stared up at him, confused.
“What the fuck are you waiting for?” He swung his hand at a small table next to us. “Put it over there.”
It took me a second to absorb the fact that he’d listened to my pleas. Was this real? Was Mason Kessler actually letting me do something I asked? Last week, when I wanted to go for a walk in the garden, he locked me in my room.What world did I land in?
“I don’t have all day.”
Mason clapped his hands in front of my face, spurring me to jerk back and rush over to the table. I ever so carefully placed the precious pot next to a vase of flowers. The instant my fingers were free, my wrist was seized and my arm yanked back as I was pulled away. Not sure why I was surprised. Patience was never Mason’s strong suit. Still, I thought he might have given me a few seconds at least.
Even though I knew where he was dragging me, I asked, “Where are we going?”
“Shut up.”
Geez, I thought guys were supposed to be in a better mood after having stuff done to them?
My eyes locked on Mason’s back. Is that where we were going? Did he want me to put my mouth on him again? Because I couldn’t do that. I shouldn’t have done it in the first place. Not that I had much of a choice. That didn’t make my reaction right.
“Can we go back outside? It’s so nice out–”
He cut me off with a loudly snarled, “No.”
I thought about tearing my arm out of his vice-like grip and running the other way. Even tried giving a tug once. That action ended the second Mason arched a brow over his shoulder. I needed to get away. I couldn’t be alone with him. That’s when I started to think about things I shouldn’t. Like the way his butt looked in those jeans, or how his forearms flexed below the charcoal shirt rolled up past his elbows.
A spark of annoyance played across Mason’s face when he glanced back at me. It was time for me to keep my head down and be quiet. Whatever was coming would be over soon. He was probably just going to push me in my room and leave. That I could deal with. In this house, I preferred the solitude.
That’s not what happened.
Mason didn’t stop to open the door to the room I’d grown comfortable being in. He tugged me down the hall towards another. One I hadn’t seen the inside of.
