He cocks his head, assessing me as he squeezes our hands, our blood, together.
“It’s not enough,” I repeat, this time firmer, more certain. “You say you want me, that I’m yours, but what have you done to show me that? You’ve watched on the periphery of my life, stalked me, inserted yourself into my job—” I stop as a horrible realization hits me. “Did you make Celeste disappear?”
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, watching as my anger simmers and rises. When he finally speaks, I can tell he’s dancing around the subject. “It’s complicated. We have a lot to discuss—”
I don’t let him finish. Wrenching my hand back, I shove him away, giving myself space to breathe. I pace down the hallway, needing to do something, anything, to get rid of this nervous energy. There’s so much happening, so much I don’t understand.
“You kidnapped my coworker and what—murdered her? All because you were too afraid to just fucking talk to me?”
His low growl is a warning. He doesn’t like what I’m saying, and maybe it’s dangerous to threaten a Devil in disguise, but I’m too angry to be reasonable.
“Because you made a promise when you were like seven? What the fuck?” I’m spiraling. I can hear it in my voice, but I can’t stop. “And then you just think that you can show up, plant yourself into my life, whisk me away, and I’d never notice?”
My anger is so raw, so potent that I can barely stand to contain it. I shove him again, and again, and again. My hands hit his chest, and I know I should stop and control myself, but I can’t. I just fucking can’t. I’m so sick of being calm andcontrolled and polite. I want to fucking rage.
“And now you think a cut on your palm will fix it all?! You’re a complete and utter psyc—“”
He stops me before I can finish. His hand wraps around my throat again. I’m thrown backward, pinned against the wall again. The blow shocks me; my complaint is lost on my tongue.
“Listen up, Princess.” He gets in close to me, so close I could feel his breath were it not for the mask. “You have every right to be mad, to have questions, to rage. But don’t question my devotion to you.” His hands fall to my thighs, lifting me up. Instinctually, my legs wrap around his waist. “If you want me to show you just how badly I need you, more than with blood, more than with words…” He spins us and I shriek, grabbing onto his shoulders for support. He kicks open a door, carrying me into an empty room. “I’m more than happy to prove my devotion to you.”
We stumble across the dark space. Gray light filters in through a dirty window. The space is barren and just as run-down as the rest of the house. All that’s in here is a pile of wooden palettes. Moving swiftly across the room, he crashes us against the palettes, my back hitting the wood with a loud bang.
Looming above me, he brings back out the knife. The steel is painted with our combined promises. I swallow down my nerves as I stare at the bloodied blade. He slides it under the fabric of my shirt and pulls. I scream as the cotton tears and rips, falling down to the sides and exposing my pale skin. Before I can even react, the sharp edge slides along the fabric of my pants, slicing the stretchy material with similar ease.
“Youaremine, Princess. And now I want to hear you scream my name, myrealname, as you come around my cock.”
TWENTY-TWO
Allison
My mind is racing nearly as fast as my heart as I struggle to piece together what has transpired. Gabriel is my stalker, Gabriel isn’t Gabriel, Gabriel is Garett, and Garett is the same boy who helped me when I was in foster care as a child. He’s obsessed with me, has been stalking me, kidnapped a woman and made her disappear for me. If it wasn’t so horrific, it’d be…romantic. The Devil before me is maybe not as evil as I originally believed.
“Say you’re mine, Princess,” he demands as he looms aboveme.
“I barely know you—” I begin to protest, but as I do, he brings down the blade to my inner thigh.
The sting of the steel slicing through my skin is enough to take my breath away. It leaves me speechless as my lungs constrict tightly. And yet, my hips rise. My mind doesn’t know what to make of the sharp, intense pain. It’s like…a release. Against every instinct in my rational mind, a loud moan slips through my lips.
“You like that, do you?” he asks as he pauses his searing slices.
I can’t answer him. Tears prick my eyes as pain and something darker, deeper, something more intense that I dare not name, overcomes me. I shake my head, unable to verbalize the denial I’m desperately clinging to.
“Such a dirty little liar,” he singsongs as his fingers slide up my unmarked thigh.
He pulls my cotton panties to the side, exposing my core to him. I try to pull away, but he pushes me back down onto the pallet which groans beneath me.
“Such a dirty, dirty…” He flips the blade skillfully in his hand so the blade is facing him. I watch in horror as he brings the handle down between my thighs, rubbing it through my slickness. “Fucking liar. Your pussy is weeping for me.”
I can barely contain the guttural groan that tries to escape my mouth when the slickened handle of the knife rubs against my tight opening. My entire body clenches in anticipation and it feels as if my head might explode with the pressure of what’s happening.
“Say you’re mine,” he demands again as the knife begins to slide oh so slowly inside me. I dare not move a muscle, terrified that if I do, I’ll nick myself with the blade.
I shake my head. I will not give this manipulative monsterwhat he wants. He’s a depraved Devil, completely content with my utter ruin. But I am strong and in control. I’m not giving into him.
“Suit yourself, pretty girl.” He lets out a long sigh before swiftly pulling the knife from inside me, flipping the blade and returning it to my thigh.
This time, I can’t stop the scream of pain that slips from me as the knife slices through my skin. The blood is warm and sticky as it runs down the curve of my leg and pools beneath me. This cut is swift, a single nick. I let out a heaving breath and stare down at the mess he’s making of my flesh. He’s carved the letters M and I into my thigh.
