Enzo’s jaw tightens. “Is that necessary?”
Malek shifts his gaze from me to him. “No. But I’d like you to do it all the same. Now.”
Enzo draws a tight breath in and doesn’t quite meet my gaze when he takes hold of the neckline of my top and rips it in two. Within moments I’m stripped naked and colder now, even though my clothes were damp through before I got here.
“Good boy. Now go check everyone’s in place.”
Enzo grits his jaw.
“Oh, one thing before you go, though. That switchblade. You have it on you?”
Enzo’s eyes narrow. “Why?”
“Give it to me. Let me see it.”
Enzo reaches tosses the small black switchblade to him. Malek looks at it.
“Your sweet sixteen gift?” Malek taunts.
“Give it here,” Enzo says.
“In a minute. Go check on the others.”
Enzo glances at me, but then walks away I assume to do Malek’s bidding.
Malek tucks the knife into his pocket. He looks me over like he has before, his gaze slow intending to shame me. “I’ll send Romeo a photo, but really, he’s seen it all, hasn’t he? Slut.”
“He’s going to kill you.”
“Doubtful. By the time he gets here, my army will be in place. I will be ready. And he will die. Now smile.”
“Fuck you,” I mutter as the flash lights up the sky.
“There you go. Whoosh! Delivered instantly to Loverboy’s phone. Think he’ll jerk off to it?”
I don’t bother to answer.
Malek stands inches from me and the way I’m strung up, he has to look up at me. I know he fucking hates that. He’s always hated that he’s the shortest man in any room.
“Do you need a step stool?” I ask him, grinning even as my cheekbone throbs with the memory of his slap.
He doesn’t meet my eyes. He studies my bonds instead. When he does finally meet my gaze, his is undisturbed. I flinch when he brushes my hair behind my ears, his touch slithery as a snake. It’s something Cassian has done countless times, tenderly pushing my hair behind my ears. This? When Malek touches me? It turns my stomach.
He shifts one hand to grip my jaw tightly. Painfully. I hold his gaze when I hear the opening of that switchblade and feel the sharp, cool blade pressed to my cheek.
“Should I take another finger while we wait?” he asks.
I try not to let my fear show, but my heart is hammering in my chest, the stubs of my pinkie fingers throbbing.
“Too much, too soon. We have all the time in the world, don’t we?” The tip of the blade breaks skin. I make a sound. I can’t help it. Warm blood trickles down my cheek. Malek watches. “It is interesting that this knife was a gift from your Romeo to his cousin, am I right?”
I want to pull free of his grip, but with that knife, I hold still. “Let me go, you bastard.”
“You don’t give the orders, wife. You take them.” He studies me and grins and as his mouth stretches wickedly,he drags the sharp blade across my cheek, carving a line that only stops when a whimper escapes my lips.
“Oops.” He draws the blade away, smiling. “That’s going to leave a mark.” He’s careful not slice too deep. This is just a taste of what he can deliver. “That’s to teach you to be careful, bitch-wife.”
He steps backward, wipes his thumb over the blood on the switchblade. He brings it to his mouth, licks it off his finger. I watch, helpless. My cheek throbs with pain, blood streaking it, sliding down over my jaw to my neck.
