My heart slams so hard my body shakes.
Then a click.
A key.
The door swings open, and Dean fills the doorway.
He grins when he sees me in the corner, and my skin crawls.He steps inside and shuts the door behind him.The need to puke makes my mouth fill with saliva.
I hate how slow he walks toward me, how mean his face looks when he squats beside me like we’re friends.Before I can make my voice work, he snatches Little Jag.
“Give it back,” I whisper.
He holds it up by one arm, examining it like trash.I bury my face in my knees so he won’t see my tears.
Then the worst sounds spill into the room.A zipper lowering.Fabric pattering.Warm droplets splashing onto the floor.
I freeze until the truth hits me, ugly and monstrous.
He’s peeing on it.
“No!”I snap my head up.“Stop!Stop!”
He pees harder, spraying Little Jag until the fur turns dark and soaked.Ruined.
My chest caves in.I can’t breathe through the breaking pain inside me.
When he’s done, he drops the dripping jaguar at my feet, and it lands with a wet slap.
“Maybe I’ll clean it.”He grabs the floppy thing between his legs.“But first, you clean me.”
I scramble backward, but there’s nowhere to go.I’m cornered, and he’s bigger, so much stronger as his hand captures my hair and yanks me to my knees.
Pain shoots across my scalp.Tears blur my eyes.I try to pull away, but he jerks harder, forcing my face forward, too close, right up against the disgusting part of him that’s no longer floppy.It grows against my cheek, turning hard as he jabs it against my pressed lips.
Panic rips through me, and my vision goes white at the edges.
“Open your mouth.”His fist tightens.“Do it, or I’ll make you.”
My stomach heaves in terror.
Jag told me exactly what to do if someone tries to hurt me like this.I don’t want to do it.I don’t want to open my mouth.But I don’t have a choice.
I unlock my jaw.
Then I bite.
Hard.
Dean screams, releasing my hair and staggering back.
I scramble on all fours, slipping on the floor as I lunge toward the bed.My fingers search under the pillow for what I know is there.
The knife.The little folding blade Jag shoved into my hand my first night here.
My fingers grip cool metal, and I whip around.My arm shakes so fiercely the blade trembles in the air.
“If you come near me again, I’ll chop that thing off and feed it to the garbage disposal.”
