When he sees that he doesn’t get an answer, he sits down next to me and puts a hand on my right leg.
Directly on my skin.
I look at him, confused. He has this strange grin on his face. My thoughts go the way Paul was, giving me the chills down my spine.
I hope with all my heart that I am wrong.
“What are you doing, Blake?” I ask, trying to appear calm.
He doesn’t answer me. His hand starts to move up my shorts. These tiny fucking pants were the worst decision.
And fuck those positive thoughts, because I don’t even think I’m wrong. I’m just too scared of what could follow.
“Blake, stop!” I say while trying with both my hands to move his, but he takes my wrists with his other hand.
This isn’t Blake anymore.
“Why stop, dear Anmara? I want to continue what I started on your birthday,” he smirks. “I know you wanted for me the day after, all wet for me, and I stood you up. You became mine that night, and I wanna make up with you for having you wait for me for so much time.”
“This is not you, Blake. Wake the hell up and leave me alone!” I scream, but he only tightens his hold and leaves his weight on my legs.
“How could I not be me?” he asks while getting his lips closer to my face. “I’m the same man I always was, just as obsessed over you as on the first day I saw you. I would’ve gotten closer from the beginning, but Lucas kept staying in my way. I’m glad he was taken, and I could make you mine,” he smirks, biting my earlobe.
“I’m not yours, dickhead!” I scream in his ear. “I’m no one’s! Let me go!”
“Or what?” he growls. “You won’t escape this time.”
I try to process how to get him off me fast, but I’m immobilised. Physically, I have no chance.
“Or I will make you wish you’d never met me,” I say, conceiving a stupid plan, but I have to try anything.
He laughs and gets up to look at me, close enough for me to yank my head into his nose.
The impact makes me instantly dizzy, but he reduces his hold on my hands enough for me to punch him in the face. A fist I then regret I hit with, because it transmits pain through my whole body, but it is too satisfying to see blood running down his nose. Even more than before.
“You bitch!”
I try to take him off me, but he abruptly rolls me on my stomach and takes my hands over my head in a stronger hold that makes me scream.
“Now I have to punish you for being such a bad girl,” he whispers dangerously close to my ear.
Full of adrenaline and anger, I join my legs and push his back with all the force I gathered from the workouts I had in the past weeks. I manage to roll him over his head, right down the bed. I quickly get up, trying to make my brain cells process my next move.
I’m so glad that my muscles still remember some moves from that defence class I took, even though I never put them into practice. I don’t know why I took that class. I just got bored and went with Bianca to do something different. I guess it may come in handy after all.
Blake manages to get up on his legs. When I see him climbing the bed to get to me, I impulsively pick up the bedsidetable and hit him in the head. He collapses straight down on the bed, with his head hanging over the edge of it.
I put the nightstand down and silently pray for him not to be dead. I tremble when I get closer to him and see a big bloodstain dripping from the side of the head I hit him in. I exhale with ease when I put two fingers on his neck and notice that he’s still alive. His pulse is weak, but strong enough not to make me panic because of this, too.
However much the man next to me scares me now, I can’t have on my conscience that I killed someone. Especially him, who was next to me when I needed someone. I still care so much about Blake. I really hope we will reverse the effect of this idiotic drug that runs through his veins.
Same for Paul.
I run to the closet from the other room and rummage around until I find some zip ties to put over Blake’s wrists and legs. And because I had half his weight and the arm workouts didn’t go that far, I don’t have enough force to get him up and put him on the armchair next to the window, so I let him lie on the bed.
I move to that armchair in the corner of the room and painfully fall into it, taking my knees to my chest. I wish Lucas would finish what he has to do faster. I want to know what the hell we will do with the unconscious man on my bed, who behaved too much like Paul.
Chapter 16
