He nodded, though mostly to himself as he continued to walk around my room and examine everything. “It feels…familiar.”
My heart ached for him just then. For us. For what had been stolen away from us.
Not wanting for him to see the emotion rampaging through me, I turned on my heel and rushed inside the walk-in closet. Grabbing my spare school uniforms hanging in the closet and then my duffle bag off the floor, I quickly stuffed every item of clothing I was holding into the bag while simultaneously also stuffing my emotions back into the pit of my stomach. The whole thing was very therapeutic.
“When was this taken?” I heard Trace ask from across the room.
I picked up my duffle bag by the handle and straightened before walking out of the closet. He was standing by the night table beside my bed, holding a picture of us in his hand, and I all but fell over.
It was a picture that Taylor had taken last year.
A picture of me and Trace.
His arm around my shoulder.
My hand on his chest.
The rush of emotions was more than I could stand. I dropped the duffle bag and leaned back against the wall, trying to gather my bearings and not pass out from the sudden rush of way too much shit coming at me at once.
Trace’s head turned at the commotion and then he was rushing over to me, his eyebrows knitted together in concern, the picture now a forgotten relic of the life we once had.
“I’m fine,” I said, holding my hand out to stop him from getting any closer.
“You don’t look fine.” His jaw muscle ticked under his skin like a drumbeat.
“Thanks,” I said and made a face at him. “I’m just a little dizzy. Probably because I haven’t eaten all day.”
He squeezed his eyes shut as regret poured over his features like rain. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I laughed, because none of this was his fault. Not a single thing in our messed-up lives was his fault.
“You wanted to pick up some burgers before and I—”
“Stop. You didn’t do anything. I just forgot to eat, that’s all. It’s been a long day.” Something moved in my peripheral as though a shadow had just rushed past my bedroom door. My heart kicked into high gear as my head whipped toward the hallway, but by the time I looked, there was nothing there. “Did you see that?” I asked, my anxiety rising unnaturally.
He followed my gaze. “See what?”
“I don’t know. I thought I saw a shadow or something.”
“A shadow?” Trace stalked to the door and then peered his head into the hallway, looking both ways. “I don’t see anything. Looks clear to me.”
My racing heart settled down as confirmation came that we were still alone and not being stalked by Evil-Dominic.
“We should probably go. I really should get some food in me.” Because apparently, I was seeing things now.
Trace nodded before marching back over to me and then picking up my duffle bag from the floor. I followed him downstairs, paying close attention to any other shadows or misplaced noises. Even though I was fairly certain my eyes were just throwing spots around from lack of food, it wouldn’t hurt to be extra cautious.
“Keys?” asked Trace as he opened the front door.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I said and then handed him the keys to the house and car.
“Alright. Just wait for me,” he instructed, his eyebrows still knitted with concern.
This time, I didn’t argue with him since I was a quite a bit more on edge than when we’d first arrived here.
Leaning against the front door, I watched as he opened the truck and tossed my duffle bag inside and then made his way back up the front steps. “After you,” he said and then followed me to the washroom down the hall.
“I’ll just be a minute,” I said and then closed the door behind myself before flicking on the bathroom light.
The minute the lights came on, a hand came down over my mouth as another hand gripped my waist and lifted me off the ground and away from the door. Panic fired through my body as my attacker set me down in front of the sink and allowed me a glimpse of his face through the mirror.
It was Dominic Huntington, and he was smiling like a madman.
6. POISON AND WINE
With his icy fingers still pressed firmly against my mouth, Dominic turned on the faucet and then brought his index finger up to his own mouth in a shushing gesture. My heart pounded wildly against my chest as I watched him through the mirror. I had only seen him once since that fateful night outside of All Saints when he shattered my entire world, and while I was terrified of what he was doing here, what he had planned for me tonight, a part of me—the sick, bonded part of me—was also contented to see him again. To feel his body close to mine, no matter how cruel and unforgiving his hold on me was.
I’ve missed you, angel, he said to my mind, his free hand back around the front of my stomach. Have you missed me?
Words could not describe how very much I had longed to hear those words from him again, but I knew they were not birthed from any real sentiment. I could see it in the callous way his mouth was hiked up at the corner and the way his vacant eyes mocked me through the mirror.
He was playing a game with me and I had no idea what the rules were.
My instincts were to tell him no. To tell him I hated him. Hated what he had become. To break out of his hold and turn the tables on him, something I knew I could easily do. But Gabriel’s words replayed in my head like a solemn whispered prayer, stopping me from doing anything brash.
I had to stay cool, calm and collected and play this thing smart if I had any hope of ever getting the real Dominic back. Even as he traced cold circles against my abdomen with his finger. Even as he pushed his palm against my mouth far harder than he needed to. Even as my grief enveloped me like a second skin.
Despite all of that and against every instinct in my aching body, I nodded my head.
Because I had missed him.
And because I was going to break the son of a bitch if it was the last thing I ever did.
Dominic stilled, his gaze fixed on me through the mirror, as though trying to decipher some riddle written in the hollows of my eyes. Neither one of us moved an inch as a whistling noise made its way into the room with us, the curtains from the open bathroom window whipping tirelessly against the wall.
The chilled air felt nice against my skin, sobering me as I stood there in the bathroom with the only man on earth I feared now. A dangerous truth I would never let him know.
As if sensing my game, he upped the stakes on me. What did you miss, angel? Hm? Was it this? he asked through my mind and then moved his hand from my stomach to the band of my pants, playing with the hem briefly before slipping his hand inside.
My eyes rolled back as he touched me the way only he knew how.
Did you miss that? he asked, needing the confirmation to fan his flames.
I nodded that I had, because it was the truth and because it was what I needed to do to break down the icy walls of his heart. I couldn’t stain our interactions with fear and allow him to thrive off the game of cat and mouse because he would always be the cat in that equation, and I would always be his prey—and that would only continue to feed the demon inside of him.
What else did you miss? he asked and then clicked out his fangs. Did you miss these?
Mutinous butterflies waltzed through my stomach and again, I nodded.
“Hm.” He moaned quietly against my ear as he removed his hand from my mouth and used it to push my hair over my shoulder. My skin prickled from his touch and I hated my body for betraying me so definitively.
With his hand firmly gripping my jaw, he titled my head and positioned my neck at just the right angle before bringing his mouth to my neck; his lips brushing eagerly against my skin.
A part of me, the dark and depraved part of me, wanted so badly for him to sink his teeth into my skin and take all this pain away, but there was another very real
and loud part of me that wanted to punch him right in the gonads for putting me in this horrible situation in the first place. I just wasn’t sure which part was going to win yet.
“Everything okay in there?” I heard Trace’s distorted voice through the bathroom door.
Dominic’s hand was still gripping my jaw firmly, but my mouth was free to speak openly. The bastard knew I wouldn’t call out for help. For one, I would never involve Trace in this and risk getting him hurt, and for two, he knew how much I couldn’t resist the things he was doing to me. Sick as it was, I was a willing captive, through and through.
“Yes, I…just need another minute,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice steady even though I was quickly broaching the edge of that primordial cliff already.
As if knowing I was close, Dominic increased his speed as he grinned wickedly at me through the mirror and then sunk his teeth into my neck without sound or warning.
My body tensed up before relaxing into his hold, into the familiar mix of pain and pleasure, as he fed off me slowly…deliberately as if to show me how in control of this he actually was.
Flutters and heat filled my insides, pulsing through my body and building like a slow-moving tidal wave as he continued to work that sacred place only he had ventured. Every muscle in my body tightened, preparing itself for that sweet release, and then suddenly, he stopped, taking with him the peak I was so close to reaching.
I groaned my dissatisfaction, but he promptly covered my mouth again before I could vocalize it.
Through the mirror, I watched as he drew his mouth away from my neck and smiled, his teeth red with blood before plunging into me again, harder this time as his other hand returned to my core and started its movement all over again.
My knees weakened as he continued to feed from me, his venom coating every ounce of fight I had inside and turning it into submission. His fingers picked up speed, touching me as though he knew every button to push, and then the feeling was back, stronger than before, ready to throw me off that cliff and freefall into the ocean.
And again, he stopped.
“Fuck!” I cried out against the hand covering my mouth.
“What’s that?” asked Trace, sounding as though he were closer to the door now.
Dominic slid his hand away from my mouth and down to my breast.
“Nothing,” I said, panting as his other hand started up yet again. “Dropped my phone.”
There was a brief pause. “Okay.”
Was he suspicious? Did I sound like myself? I could barely think about it long enough to care.
Within seconds, I was right back on that cliff, running like a wild animal towards the edge, desperate to swan-dive off of it before he could take it all away again. And once again, I failed to reach the drop. The fucker was playing with me, dangling a carrot in front of my face and then yanking it away before I reach out and grab it.
This time though, I didn’t have enough energy to groan out my frustration. The blood loss, while still tantalizing, was also substantial now. I was drifting back to that place I had been so many times before, receding into the dark corners of my conscious that longed only to stay within the shadows, forever lost to the pleasure of his bite. I was walking that thin line between breath and death again, and it was a horrible place to live, but I couldn’t seem to give a shit.
All I could think about was his fingers touching me again, moving faster than humanely possible, tauntingly bringing me back to the edge as he punished me for loving him, for making him feel things a damned soul should never be made to feel.
He held all the power in his hands. In his bite. And he who giveth could also taketh away. And he was sure as hell taking it away, over and over again. I was hopelessly at his mercy and the sane part of me hated every second of it. The sane part of me wished I’d never met him in the first place.
But that part of me was too small and insignificant to be able to make any kind of a difference. Not after everything I’d been through. Everything I’d seen and done. Everything this man had made me feel.
“Please,” I begged, my last-ditch effort to plead my way across the finish line, and again, he mercilessly denied me.
Blurry dots peppered my vision as I watched him grin at me through the mirror. He was enjoying every minute of the agony he was putting me through, thriving off the sense of control I’d so eagerly handed over to him.
Enjoy it while you can, asshole, I thought dryly, because it would be the last time he’d ever get the satisfaction.
As if sensing my vengeance, his smile dropped away from his face, leaving in its place a cold, callous sneer. And then his teeth were inside me again, ripping and tearing at my neck with intent to punish, to solidify the fact that the man I loved was dead and gone.
My vision went black and suddenly, I was falling, spinning, tumbling through the open air and freefalling into that place and time where nothing else existed. No pain. No regrets. No thoughts of yesterday or tomorrow. Not a single breath moving in or out of me and yet somehow, I was still alive.
It was as close to death as the Amulet would ever allow me to go, and I was consumed by it even as he withdrew his fangs and his hold on me and let me drop to the floor in a hopeless heap of skin and bones.
He kneeled beside me and gripped my jaw, his fingers pressing hard as he turned my face to his. “Open your eyes,” he commanded, and I did, my heart barely ticking as I stared into those boundless coal black eyes of his.
Somewhere in the peripheral of my awareness, I could hear Trace ramming against the door, trying to bust it down, but I knew it was too late.
“You have forty-eight hours to lose Romeo and come to the Manor at dusk.” His voice was just above a whisper yet packed with enough power to move a mountain. Because it was an order—a death warrant by way of compulsion and I knew there was nothing I could do to resist it. “Oh, and angel lips? Make sure it stays between the two of us.”
A small part of me was aware that I was still alive and that he was leaving me, making his getaway through the window—the same way he’d come in. And that part of me already missed him. Missed his touch and his smell, missed the man he used to be. But the other part of me, the sane part of me, vowed to steal back every ounce of power he had over me and use it to break his heart wide open again.
And then the door busted open and Trace was beside me. His tormented eyes flying with hurt and agony, his eyebrows pinched with worry, and I knew it was all because of me, because of what I had let Dominic do to me, and I wholly and viscerally hated myself for it. I was complicit in this. In all of it.
Would I ever be able to stop doing this to him? To stop hurting him like this?
Probably not…I was ruined now. Spoiled goods. And sooner or later, he was going to see that for himself.
The thought briefly fluttered through my subconscious, too fleeting to hold on to, too distant to touch, and then everything went black…
Just the way I liked it.
7. RETROGRADE
I woke up sometime later in Trace’s bedroom with a throbbing pain at the back of my head and an ache in my heart that I couldn’t quite place. For the briefest of moments, I’d forgotten what had happened or how I ended up here, and then I spotted Trace siting in his armchair, the heart-shattering worry still etched across his face like a story, and I remembered.
I remembered what had happened with Dominic and I remembered the state I was in when Trace had found me.
Shame and regret poured into me, drowning me under their impossible weight. My throat constricted as I added yet another slice of guilt to my already overflowing plate.
“You’re awake,” he said.
I couldn’t tell if he was relieved or angry. His voice was giving nothing away and that only made the ache in my heart grow stronger. How much had he seen? Had he put the whole thing together already? Of course, he did. Even a fool could see what I had done.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out as tears burned the corners of my eyes
, warning me of their impending fall. Tears that I didn’t even have the strength to stop anymore.
“For what?” he asked, still sitting on the chair, his expression guarded and unreadable.
“You know for what.” Reflexively, I reached up to touch my neck as the memory of Dominic returned to me, but my neck had already been bandaged…by Trace…for the second time this week.
I was an utter piece of shit.
“You didn’t do that to yourself, Jemma.”
But I sort of did, didn’t I?
“I let him do it,” I admitted and dropped my eyes in shame. I couldn’t bear to see his reaction as I imagine all the horrible things he must’ve been thinking of me.
Normally, when Dominic had his fill, he’d always put something back into me that allowed me some semblance of strength and dignity. But he’d left me on the floor, emptied and discarded like yesterday’s trash and I had no one to blame for it but myself.
Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe now Trace would see just how ruined I really was, and he’d decide once and for all to drop this infatuation with me and run for the hills. I was no good for him. I was no good for anyone. That much was plain to see.
“Why didn’t you call for me?” he asked suddenly, his voice low and gruff. “I was right there.”
I looked up and met his penetrating eyes. There was something swirling in them, something brokenhearted and disapproving, but he was working hard to hide it. Because he knew the truth. He knew why I had let Dominic do this…why I hadn’t called for help. He just wanted to hear me say it.
Maybe he was a glutton for punishment the way I was.
“Why do you think, Trace? Because I love him. Because I’m bonded to him. Because it’s the only way I know how to connect with him—to bring back his humanity.” I swallowed the jagged lump in my throat. “And because…I wanted it.” I could feel my cheeks burning with humiliation as I stared back at him from across the room.
Incipient: A Dark Paranormal Romance (The Marked Book 6) Page 4