Little Star - Page 3

I slowly ripped my eyes open, staring up at the concrete ceiling above me. The room smelled like bleach and something else I couldn’t quite pinpoint. I felt like I might have smelled it before in a science class – a chemical that was capable of cleaning up blood.

I kept my eyes shut as everything rushed back to me: the dead body, the blood on Ryker’s shirt, the plastic tarp . . .

Plastic crinkled beneath me as I sat up. I drew in a deep breath and turned my head, already feeling his eyes on me. Ryker had a stare you couldn’t ignore; it was downright impossible.

Blood still splattered his shirt and his skin. The dead body was gone, and I was guessing he had taken the time to lay out a fresh plastic tarp to put me on so I wouldn’t bloody his floor.

I said depression was a slow killer, and I hadn’t been wrong. My depression was the entire reason I was up at this cabin with Ryker, and I had a feeling I was going to die today.

To be honest, it didn’t bother me.

“I never meant for you to see this side of me,” Ryker confessed. I just stared at him. I’d already accepted my fate. I didn’t need a long talk from him about it. Now that the shock had worn off, this psycho part of him kind of . . . fit.

He stood up, a knife in his hand. I glanced at it for a moment before looking back up at his handsome face.

I wasn’t afraid. I always knew Ryker was too perfect. There was no way he did everything right, got everything perfect, and didn’t have a flaw somewhere.

It made me feel a little bit better to know that he was just as fucked up as I was.

“You’re awfully silent, little star,” he noted as he crouched in front of me, placing the tip of his knife on my thigh. A thrill shot through me, and surprisingly, my core clenched.

Was I seriously turned on by this?

Didn’t surprise me that I was. I hadn’t felt anything for fucking months now.

“What do you want me to say?” I asked him, tilting my head to the side the slightest bit as I regarded him. “Did you expect me to plead with you for my life?” His eyes darkened. “Did you expect me to ask you a billion questions about why you’re like this?” He frowned. He’d been betting on both of those. I shook my head. “Ryker, the ways I’ve imagined killing myself daily surpasses this,” I confessed. A growl sounded from his chest. “I don’t care about living anymore, Ryker.”

His hand suddenly wrapped around my throat. He didn’t cut off my air supply, but he did squeeze the sides of my neck as he dragged my face close to his. His grip was tight enough that I had no doubt he would leave bruises. “I’d never fucking kill you, little star. You know that, right?”

I licked my lips, my gaze roaming over his face. His eyes focused on my lips for a moment before snapping back up to my eyes.

“Then why the plastic tarp?” I questioned.

He slid the knife along my collarbone with his free hand. A moan tore from my lips before I could stop it. Ryker smirked. “Because I like to make people bleed, baby girl.”

He nicked my skin. A hiss escaped through my teeth, but when he did it again, a moan slipped out. His lips brushed mine – a teasing caress – as he spoke.

“Always knew you were just as fucked up as me, little star.”

He stood up to his full height and looked down at me. I was desperate for more pain. It’d been the first thing I’d felt in a while besides sadness, and I was desperate to feel it again.

“You know if I let you live, you’re no longer a free woman, right?” he asked me. I frowned at him, not understanding. “You belong to me, Brandy.”

I shrugged at him again, pain flaring through my collarbone. I welcomed it with open arms. “I’m tired of trying to keep myself together anymore, Ryker,” I told him. “When you come around, it’s the only time I don’t have to pretend to be okay, pretend like my shit is together. I’m in pieces. I’m in fucking shambles. Even sitting here on this floor beneath you with my collarbone bleeding, I finally feel somewhat okay again, and that’s only because of you.”

He shook his head with a heavy sigh. “Never meant for you to be this dark, baby girl. I tried to save you from it.”

A wry smile twisted my lips. “The moment I lost my parents, Ryker, my soul was lost to the dark side. There was no saving me.”

He stayed silent. Our gazes never left each other. Finally, he pointed his knife at me. “Strip,” he commanded.

I slowly rose to my feet, and with my eyes locked on his, I stripped out of my clothes. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but if he hurt me again, if he made me bleed again, I was all for it. I’d do anything to feel the pain, to feel that burn. I needed Ryker to give me relief, to make me feel something besides this sadness that I was drowning in.

Once I was naked, he pointed to the floor. “Kneel.”

Obediently, I lowered myself to my knees, looking up at him. He groaned and knelt in front of me. I was expecting pain, but instead, he gripped my hair and pressed his lips to mine.

Heat rushed through my body. I tingled every fucking where. He groaned and pried my lips apart. When his tongue touched mine, I gasped, my hands coming up to grip his shirt, dragging him closer to me.

Tags: T.O. Smith Dark
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