Mafia Games by Vi Carter

Author:Vi Carter [Carter, Vi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CARTER BOOKS
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CLAIRE

The memory of him licking my wrist, licking my blood, seems more unrealistic as time passes. Had I imagined it? Yet, his lips had been stained with my blood. The image drilled into my mind. The sick part of me had felt divine. The idea of him tasting my blood is so wrong, but somehow it felt right. I’m disturbed by my own thoughts. It’s been days, I tell myself, and I need to move past this.

I refocus on the drawing at my feet, I just started to draw, not thinking, and it’s the oddest thing that’s formed under the pencil. My kitchen table and chairs from my childhood are sketched on the floor.

I pause, my hand hovers above the floor, and I tilt my head, aware of his presence. My heart starts hammering. How does he do that? He’s standing along the side of the box, watching me. I hadn’t even heard him enter the basement. Maybe the sound is off again.

I don’t get off the floor but stay seated. I want to touch my bandage but keep still, not wanting to draw attention to my wrist, yet he’s brought back the memory of what happened last time.

″How is your wrist?” He asks, his voice clear.

His hands are folded behind his back. The blue shirt stretched across wide shoulders. He takes a step to the left, and I turn so I keep him in my view.

His dark eyes look lighter like he’s smiling, but it’s a contradiction to the stern look on his face.

″Better,” I answer.

His dark gaze flickers down to the bandage, and my stomach clenches. His eyes sing the truth that he has tasted my blood. It had shocked me, but something else has taken root that I don’t want to face.

He doesn’t walk any further; his hands leave his back. I notice his knuckles appear damaged like he had a fight with a wall.

I think back to him saying he had been beaten. Maybe he was a fighter; like the ones on TV. The thoughts of him walking around a ring in shorts have me dropping my gaze to hide the growing color in my cheeks.

″Were you in a fight?” I ask.

″With a steering wheel.”

My head snaps up, and I crack a smile without even thinking. His answer is bizarre to me.

His lips twitch. “You find that amusing?” He asks.

My smile melts off my face like ice cream on a hot day. “No.” I sink my hands into the floor to ground myself and try to slow my heart rate down. “Yes.” I take a peek at him. I’m not sure what sets him off, so I want to be careful. “Maybe.”

His face hardens, and his gaze pivots towards my new drawing. “A table and chairs?” He steps closer to the glass, and I want to move back but force myself to stay still.

″From my home.”

″I didn’t see that in your home.”

His answer shouldn’t shock me or make me feel more violated, but it does. He had taken me from my apartment.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.