Red traces the slices her nails made in my face; her expression almost thoughtful. “No. You’ll give in one day. I’m a patient person.”
She pats my cheek. “Enough games for tonight. I’m tired.”
She doesn’t touch me again. But the tension in my body doesn’t relax until she’s sleeping next to me beneath those emerald sheets.
I stare up at the ceiling.
If I gave in, gave her what she wanted – handed over my heart, my body, she would soon get bored. And perhaps I would be free of this twisted obsession.
Red is used to getting what she wants.
She wants me.
But I will never, ever want her.
It takes a long time for my eyes to close.
6 – Alyss
Frowning, I glance up at the warehouse. It looks empty, dark and abandoned. Several broken windows don’t show any light shining through.
Maybe I wrote it down incorrectly.
I glance behind. The rear lights of the cab I persuaded to drop me off down here are barely visible in the distance.
I can’t say I particularly blame him. Forcing my limbs to relax, I stroll toward the tall, ominous building with a sigh. No point leaving before checking it out.
My eyes travel along the dirt floor before I pause.
Footprints. Several of them, but others show faint edges beneath, as if—
As if they were stamped down, but someone else passed through.
“Looking for something?” A voice filters through the dark, and I still.
Another voice. “Or is something looking for you?”
Laughter. Low, threatening laughter.
The men emerge slowly from the darkness. Scruffy and nonchalant, they spread out around me, even as I try to back up, my heels digging into the dirt.
You’re a fucking idiot, Alyss Lidell.
Not even a weapon on me. Not when I was planning on going to a damn nightclub. Certainly not in this dress.
Chess would belivid.
Slowly, I turn, assessing them. One, broad-shouldered and leering, nudges his friend. “Is it a sheep, or a rabbit?”
Teeth flash. “Maybe it’s a little lost bunny. Off you hop.”
They don’t seem inclined to let me leave at all. Spreading my legs out, I brace, before I tilt my head. “I’m already late. I suggest you don’t make me later.”
The group pauses at that.
Eyes sweep over me. “Late for what?”
I turn to face the one who spoke. He looks nasty, his eyes running over me in a way that tells me I need to talk my way into that club and fucking fast.
