Page 91 of Rot In Knotty Pieces

The old lady is not in her bed, and though the room is in pristine condition, there’s something off about it.

That’s the first sign. The second is that the bed is made. Whatever happened happened during daylight hours or early enough that she hadn’t even made it to bed yet.

I crouch down and look under the bed, half expecting to see a man in a bird skull mask and black clothes staring back, but there is nothing but dust bunnies and a forgotten pair of oversized granny panties.

The closest is similarly empty of people or corpses, but I’m impressed by her immaculate attention to detail with the folding and ironing of her dresses. On silent feet, I slip up to the bedroom door and turn the handle, pulling it open.

Again, everything in me expects him to be there. The fact that he’s not is both alarming and deeply disconcerting. Room by room, I search, but by the time I’ve cleared the whole house, they are gone without a trace. It’s like they got up and left.

Willingly.

Maybe they did.

But I don’t think so, I can feel the violence.

I check the garden and the garage.

The car is still there. I was hoping it wouldn’t be. I stand in the dark space between the little yellow bug and the bookshelf, wondering why there isn’t a single sign of where they have been or gone.

I’m out on the street, heading home, when I look back and see it. An egg smashed on the white door.

I stare at it, smiling grimly.

Good girl. She was taken, and she found a way to tell me. Damn it.

I take my time heading back and slip into the house, only to be shoved up against the wall, an arm pressed to my throat.

“Where have you been?” Rose growls.

“Checking leads.”

He snarls, his eyes glittering with malice. “Did you drug us?”

I shrug. “A little bit.”

Rose lets out one of those deliciously violent growls that always makes my heart stutter over itself.

“Raven!”

“Sorry?” I whisper with a little grin.

He growls again and this time whirls me around so I’m bent over the couch and slaps my ass so hard I yelp.

“Don’t.” Slap. “You.” Slap. “Ever.” Slap. “Do.” Slap. “That.” Slap. “Again.”

I just laugh, breathlessly, but it’s just so nice to see him lose his fucking mind. He spends far too much time being wound up and locked inside his head. I love unhinged, losing-his-shit Rose.

“Oh, baby, do it again. I didn’t learn my lesson.”

“Oh, I’ll teach you your lesson, all right.” He yanks down my pants and thrusts into me.

I squeal at the massive invasion and then, just to be an absolute bitch, I squeeze around him, tightening all my muscles until he is a groaning mess that collapses on my back.

“I think you love teaching me lessons, Alpha.”

“Why do you never fucking learn them?” he snarls and bites hard into my shoulder.

For a moment, I hope he will bond us, force that bond we yearn for so badly, but he doesn’t. I’m not even sure if he can bond me, but I hope he can. Rose just leaves a mark that is his on my body. A claiming, an announcement to any other alpha that I belong to him.