DEPRAVED

by J, Bella

  As I reached the door, I hesitated for a moment. I leaned forward, glancing down the unfamiliar hall. Dark wooden floors flanked with cool-gray walls led to what seemed like a kitchen at the end, part of the kitchen table and cabinets visible from where I stood. I couldn’t see more than that, only that there were two more doors between the room where I was and the kitchen.

  “Over here.” Neon drew my attention, standing beside the door across the hall. “The bathroom’s in here.”

  I stilled. Uncertainty was knocking at the back of my skull.

  Neon rolled her eyes. “Get your bony ass over here before I change my mind. Besides, the crew should be back any minute. If Granite knew I let you out of the room, he’d cut my goddamn tongue out.”

  I frowned. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “You’ve seen the man. You tell me whether I’m kidding or not.” She crossed her arms, pursing her lips. “I’m going to count to—”

  “I’m coming.” I hauled ass across the wooden floors and literally stumbled over my own two feet, almost falling my way into the bathroom.

  “You know,” Neon started, “for a ballerina, you sure are uncoordinated.”

  I glowered her way. “Being kidnapped can do that to a person.”

  “Ha,” she winked at me, “funny. Now, hurry up. You have two minutes. I’ll go see if I can find you something clean to wear.” Her gaze swept over me from top to bottom. “You’re a what, size nine to ten-year-old?”

  “Funny.”

  “Hurry your ass up, Swan Lagoon.”

  “It’s Swan Lake.”

  “Don’t care.” She closed the door.

  A few seconds passed, and I just stood there, glancing from one side to the other. Everything seemed so…clean. With dark and light tones of gray, a corner tub, and double shower, the bathroom didn’t seem like it was used by a bunch of barbaric motorcycle grease junkies.

  I turned and spotted a toothbrush, still sealed in its packaging, on the sink. Alongside it, toothpaste, a bottle of shampoo, and a bar of soap. Was Neon trying to be nice, or was this the part where they groomed the live offering right before they slaughtered it in the name of Satan?

  I checked the door, but there was no key. Of course, there wasn’t. And I didn’t hear the lock turn when Neon closed the door. Did that mean it was still open?

  Slowly, softly, I moved forward. My heart raced, my mind about to explode with a hundred different things I’d do if the door wasn’t locked—the best option being to run as fast I could.

  My hand shook as I reached out, gently placing my palm on the doorknob. Sweat beaded at the back of my neck, my legs ready to run. I swallowed then slowly turned the knob. When the door clicked open, my heart stopped.

  What the fuck do I do now?

  In which direction do I run?

  Do I run to the kitchen, or away from the kitchen?

  Jesus.

  I pulled the door open, ready to sprint, only to look right into Neon’s face.

  “Seriously, Swan Lake. You’re seriously going to try to make a run for it when there’s an entire bar filled with mean-ass motherfuckers who would break you in half just by looking at you?”

  I tried to swallow, but my mouth and throat instantly went dry. “I, ah…I’m not—”

  She shoved a bundle of clothing into my chest. “Take a damn shower and quit fucking around. Your two minutes just slipped down to thirty seconds.” She placed her hands on either side of the doorframe. “I’ll wait right here.”

  I clutched the clothing tighter. “You’re going to watch me take a shower?”

  “Yup.” She didn’t even blink.

  I took a few steps back, watching her watch me. “At least you got Swan Lake right this time.”

  “I’m a quick learner.” Her head leaned to the side. “Let’s hope you are too.”

  From the look on her face, I knew she wasn’t kidding about the whole thirty-second thing. So I tried to ignore the fact that she was watching me get naked and hurried myself through the shower. Even though I would have loved to drag it out, to concentrate on how good it felt to have the water cascade down on my aching body, I decided it best not test Neon. Washing my hair and face, then lathering the vanilla scented soap bubbles on my skin, all happened in record time. When I stepped out of the shower, a towel got tossed right in my face.

  “Hurry the fuck up. They’re here.”

  “Who?” I wrapped the towel around me.

  “Granite and the rest of the guys. You can hear their Harleys coming from a mile away.”

  Drying myself, brushing my teeth, and grabbing the clothes Neon brought me all happened in fifteen seconds flat. I glanced down at the t-shirt I just pulled over my head. ‘Bra off. Hair down.’

  I gave Neon a knowing look, and she shrugged. “It’s the best I could find on such short notice. Now, hustle.”

  The pair of jeans she gave me was about three size too big, but I was in no position to complain.

  Neon rushed me across the hall and back into the room I woke up in. We could hear the stomping of shit-kicker boots downstairs, and Neon seemed about as frazzled as I was.

  “Here.” She held out two chocolate energy bars. “He said I should make sure you eat something. So, eat.”

  My stomach churned, thinking of the last time I binge-ate a shitload of chocolate bars. “I can’t—”

  Her glare bored holes into my forehead. “Now is not the time, Swan Lake. Eat the fucking bars now, before he gets here.”

  I hesitated.

  “Now!” Neon pushed the bars against my chest, forcing me to take them.

  My hand quivered as I tore the wrapper open. The mint toothpaste taste was still in my mouth when I took the first bite of the energy bar. It masked the sweetness of the chocolate and tasted all kinds of wrong. But Neon’s glare my way made it clear I had no goddamn choice but to stuff both bars down my throat as quickly as possible.

  The more I ate, the more I started to taste the chocolate as the toothpaste flavor dissipated. It had been two years since I last tasted anything chocolate. It was good, the smooth taste of cocoa. The sweetness of refined sugar. And the bitterness of a fuck-load of calories. Each mouthful I swallowed became heavier, moving down my throat as if coated with sandpaper.

  Neon frowned. “You must be the only woman in the entire fucking world who doesn’t like chocolate.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like it.” I chewed some more. “I had a bad experience once which ended with undigested chocolate pieces on my parents’ front lawn.”

  “Oh,” she nodded, “kind of like the experience I had with vodka which ended with pieces of undigested spaghetti on my bedroom floor.”

  I stilled, my stomach giving a violent churn. “Yeah,” I said slowly. “Like that.”

  We heard footsteps coming from the stairs, and Neon grabbed the empty wrappers from my hand. “It’s been swell, Swan Lake.” She rushed to the door, but just as she reached to close it, Granite appeared, towering over her like Goliath. Neon was taller than I was, but she was nowhere near as tall as the hulking biker.

  Neon smiled. “Have a good run?”

  Granite glanced from her to me. People said eyes were the windows of the soul, but not his. It couldn’t be. If it were, his soul was as dark and wicked as the glare in his green eyes. Malevolent. Sinful. Golden specks of immorality.

  My breath hitched, and thick mucus that still tasted like chocolate caught in the back of my throat, choking me.

  Granite took the empty chocolate wrappers from Neon’s hands. “Leave.” He was talking to her even though his eyes remained pinned on me. Neon didn’t hesitate. She just shot me a look as if to say, ‘Good luck, Swan Lake,’ then left.

  After she left, his big frame blocked the open door. He reached up, dragging a hand down his beard, and that was when I saw it. Blood. His hand was covered in it, dried blood stuck on his cuticles. My gaze slipped down. There were splatters of blood on his jeans, his shoes, and it sent a blast of hor
ror through my insides. The sight of him demanded fear strong enough to split my spine in half.

  A half-smile started at the corner of his mouth, making it seem like my fear amused him. As if he knew the sight of him covered in blood turned my body cold.

  “Still think you know who I am, ballerina girl?”

  Dizziness dug its claws into my head, nausea tightening around my stomach.

  Please don’t throw up. Please don’t throw up.

  I threw up.

  11

  Granite

  The look on her face was priceless. Her skin was already naturally pale. The sight of blood on my hands and clothing turned her complexion to a ghostly white. It didn’t require rocket science to know she was about to vomit. Even if I wasn’t covered in blood, the two chocolate bars Neon made her eat would have done the trick on its own.

  I watched silently as she hurled, her body jerking as it rid itself of the four hundred calories she just shoved down her throat.

  Alyx kept vomiting until there was nothing left and she started to dry-heave. I leaned against the doorframe. “You should have eaten the salad.”

  “Screw you,” she spat, hands on her knees and hunched over.

  I walked in and shut the door. “You know, for a woman who’s in the position you are, you sure know how to dig yourself a deeper hole by talking shit.”

  “That’s funny because from where I’m standing,” she stood straight, “it doesn’t seem like the hole can get any deeper.”

  I looked at the black t-shirt she had on and frowned. “Apparently, my babysitter has a sense of humor.”

  She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand then took a seat on the bed. Her hair was wet, and judging by the sharp scent of vanilla and soap, I’d guess Neon had her take a shower. Pity the pungent stench of vomit was starting to ruin it.

  I glanced at the vomit on the floor then back at her. “It’s a shame mommy wasn’t here to see it.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “She would’ve been real glad to see her pretty little ballerina purge herself of some unwanted calories.”

  By the way she glowered at me from underneath those thick, dark lashes, I could practically feel the hate she was directing at me. “You don’t know me, so stop pretending you do.”

  “Remember my warning, ballerina girl.” I took a step closer. “Do not think you can fuck with me. You’ll lose.”

  She stood from the bed, hardly tall enough to be intimidating. Neon’s shirt was way too big, the pair of jeans nowhere close to hugging the curves she didn’t even have. “I don’t think I have much more to lose here.”

  I cocked a brow. She thought she left enough distance between us, but I reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her right up to me, proving her wrong. Her breath escaped with a huff, her neck leaning back as she stared up at me. I had to be a fucking psycho because not even the putrid smell of chocolate vomit could keep my cock from getting hard for her.

  My grip around her arm tightened, and she didn’t fight me. She didn’t even try. She was like a meek lamb in my grasp, just waiting to see what I’d do next.

  I grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of her neck and pulled her head back even more with a violent tug. The most titillating yelp left her lips, and it shot all the way through my insides, slamming against the head of my cock.

  Letting go of her arm, I cupped her between her legs, gripping her pussy through the denim jeans. “Oh, you still have something to lose, all right. Something I’m hellbent on taking.”

  With parted lips and rapidly blinking eyes, she stared up at me in fear. But there was something else hiding in the blue swirls of her irises, giving me the same feeling I got whenever she stared at me from her bedroom window. It gnawed at my bones, an exhilarating feeling of desire that made my groin ache. That was the best part of our midnight visits to the commissioner’s house, the desire she managed to radiate from two fucking floors up. It was toxic, yet addictive. Every goddamn time it felt the same. Powerful. Sinful. Bewitching. And every night I looked up at the girl in the window, I knew the day would come that my addiction to it would ruin me. Now, while I looked into her eyes, it warned me the time was nearing. My ruin was approaching fast.

  At the brink of losing control, I yanked her to the side, loving the whimpering sounds that came out of her mouth. I pushed her down into the chair that stood in the corner, her tiny body slamming into the wooden seat.

  “What are you doing?” Her voice was a plea even though she tried to sound fierce.

  I grabbed some of the rope that was left on the floor and tied her wrists to the chair.

  “Please don’t. Don’t do this.”

  “It’s already done.”

  Round and round and round, I tied the rope, tightening it, watching her flinch as the fibers cut into her flesh. It had to be this way. I had to teach her a lesson. She was not allowed to disrespect me or think she had the balls to fight me, or all this would be shot to shit. Plus, her fight was fucking with my resolve by making this all way more fun than it was supposed to be. It would make me lose control, something she wasn’t ready to handle.

  I made quick work of tying her ankles to the chair as well before moving in behind her. “Try not to squirm or scream. The rope will tear through your flesh if you do.” She moaned when I placed the rope between her lips, and the sound made the tip of my cock throb.

  Of course, she squirmed. Of course, she tried to scream. By the time I had moved back in front of her, there was already tiny beads of blood at the corners of her mouth. God, I loved witnessing this newfound fight of hers come to the surface.

  “I’m going to get you something to eat, and even if it means I have to force it down your throat, you will eat whatever I give you.” About to walk out, I turned halfway and winked at her. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  It probably wasn’t necessary to tie her to the chair. But I had to do something in order to regain control. Even though I loved her fight, I had to show her who had the true power here. It was the only way. If there was even a tiny part of her believing she had the strength to fight me, I might as well just give up right here, right now. None of us were fucking saints. Me, the least. To lie, to cheat, to steal and manipulate in order to get what I wanted wasn’t beyond me. I’d do it all in a heartbeat. I’d do it all for her.

  I stormed to the kitchen, flung open the fridge, and grabbed the first two things I could find. A beer and some leftover mac and cheese. I was sick of this shit. This woman needed to eat something. She needed to pack some meat on those goddamn bones of hers. Her dad was a fucking coward for not standing up to her mother, allowing it to get out of hand. The fucker saw how his daughter was starving herself, how her mother was pushing her. Fuck. I didn’t even live there, and I knew. It didn’t take a special kind of stalker to figure it out.

  “Granite, there you are.”

  I closed the fridge and turned to face Onyx. “What?”

  “He’s on the phone.”

  “Who?”

  “The PC, man. It’s the call we’ve been waiting for.”

  I cursed. The whole goddamn morning I waited for that fucking phone call, and the fucker decided to call now. Now, when I really, really wanted to shove some food down Alyx’s throat.

  I glanced from the food in my hand to Onyx. “You take the call.”

  “What?”

  “I got shit I need to deal with now.”

  “What? Like eating lunch? Come on, man, this is the call we’ve been waiting for. The PC specifically asked to talk to you.”

  I gave him a knowing look before rounding the kitchen table. “You can talk to him. Just set up the fucking meeting.”

  “Granite—”

  “Onyx.” I stopped and looked at him. “You’re the fucking VP. Start acting like it. Take the damn call.”

  I stomped off, and Onyx called out, “You’re crazy, man!”

  “Yeah. Don’t I know it.”

  12

  Alyx<
br />
  I refused to cry. Not again. He’d already stolen too many of my tears and didn’t deserve another. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself this couldn’t be it, this couldn’t be the man I’d been watching for years, the more he gave me reason to believe it was. It really was him. And I really was wrong. In my head, I made him out to be something he wasn’t. He was nothing but a man with evil running through his veins. A man who would take and destroy and not give a shit. A man with nothing but a cruel heart that beat inside his chest—that was if he even had one.

  I pulled against the ropes that had me tied to the chair. My skin burned, and after a few violent tugs, I knew it was hopeless. I’d wear myself out trying to get free.

  I let my head fall back. Why did he feel the need to tie me up when he could have simply locked the doors? Was he trying to prove a point? Trying to show me who was in control? Of course, he was. He wasn’t about to let a little ballerina girl challenge him. That was why he grabbed me, hurt me…touched me where no one ever had before.

  That was the part that confused the fuck out of me. He was being nothing but a dick to me, evil and heartless, yet my body responded to his violent touch. It seemed I was still attracted to him in some twisted, warped kind of way. How was that even possible? The man scared me. He elicited the darkest kind of fear in me, but the second he grabbed me between my legs, desire sprouted from within that same fear and took me completely by surprise. If it was any other man, I would have been repulsed by the touch. But it wasn’t just any man. It was him, the man I had been infatuated with for years. It seemed my body didn’t care that he was a psychopath. Even my skin erupted into tiny bumps as desire ignited like a fire over thatched rooftops. Just from one touch. One hard and fierce touch, as if he was claiming it. Claiming me.

  I moved my head side to side, my neck stiff and sore. The back of my scalp still burned where he had grabbed a fistful of hair. Funny how it only ached now, but when he did it, it ached somewhere else. Somewhere way more south, right there where his cruel touch cupped me. For those few seconds while starring into his eyes, I wasn’t a captive. I wasn’t leverage to whatever game he was playing. I was a woman—or as Red would say, a masochist.