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Chapter 9 Eden
A beam of sunlight breaks through a crevice in the dark curtains, rousing me from sleep. The streak of light is harsh when I open my eyes, and I turn my head away.
Grogginess has me combating the urge to fall back asleep, and the pulsating in my temples makes it hard to formulate a cohesive thought, but I know one thing is certain.
This isn’t my bedroom.
My mouth is bone dry and my throat is thick when I swallow. However, it’s nothing compared to the dull ache between my thighs and the throbbing pain in my left wrist.
I try to examine the cause of it, but I can’t…both of my wrists are tied to the bedpost.
I suck in a rush of air when I peer down at my naked body. Confusion, followed by a wave of anxiety, shoots through me like a ca
I had sex…with someone named Damien King.
The man who was hired by my stepfather and his new fiancée to kill me.
Tears prickle my eyes. On second thought—sleep seems explicitly better than reality.
No. I can cry over his betrayal later. Right now, I need to figure out who this Damien King dude is and what else he wants from me in exchange for his help.
Given he drugged me and has me bound to his bed—my virginity obviously wasn’t enough for him.
I fight back a shiver. What the hell have I gotten myself into?
As if answering my question, the bedroom door opens and it’s not long before his tall, muscular frame is parked at the end of the bed, studying me as if I were bacteria under a microscope.
I’m disgusted that my first thought is how attractive he is, instead of preserving my dignity.
He crosses his arms over his chest, his gaze unwavering. The longer he stares at me, the more humiliated I feel.
Which is exactly what he wants.
My mother once told me vultures’ prey on the weak and broken…and she wasn’t talking about the birds.
Stuffing down my embarrassment, I look him straight in the eye. I refuse to let him reduce me to nothing.
He’s the one who should feel ashamed about tying a naked girl to his bed…not me.
“You drugged me.” I don’t pretend to disguise it as a question or an accusation, we both know what he did. “You realize you could have killed me, right?”
“It was a sedative.” The corners of his lips curl up. “And you didn’t seem to care about dying last night.”
I don’t know what irritates me more—his apparent amusement over my suicidal thoughts…or that he’s right.
Since I don’t have a retort, I scan his tattoos which are on full display due to him not wearing a shirt. They’re intimidating, but beautiful. I rake over the words, ‘Trust No One’ in bold, black ink before focusing on the tattoo that draws my attention the most. Smack dab in the center of his neck is a large skull with intricate orange and yellow flames expanding across his throat. Every time he swallows, I watch them move—almost like they’re flickering.
“Did it hurt?”
His response is short and gruff. “No.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he ever feels anything period, but I have more important things to worry about. “Are you pla
He narrows his eyes, but I don’t mistake the hint of a smirk on his face. “That depends.”
“On?”
“You.” He walks over to the side of the bed. “The police department will be making a statement regarding David Covey’s death later today.”
I blink, not understanding. “What does that have to do with me?”
His hand sweeps down the underside of my arm. “The committee has been authorized to nominate someone to fill in the vacancy.”
“Spectacular. But again, I’m not sur—”
He places a finger over my lips. “The committee will be nominating me.” His eyes darken as his finger journeys south, lingering between my breasts. “After the funeral, they’ll officially a
My mouth drops open in shock. “Wait, you’re ru
I don’t bother hiding the disbelief in my tone. The man is crazier than I thought if he seriously thinks he stands a chance against Cain.
His jaw hardens. “Is that a problem for you?”
“Not for me, but definitely for you. There’s no way in the world you’ll win.”
And why would he want to run for mayor of Black Hallows in the first place?
I’m not sure what to make of the expression on his face. “Your support for Cain is compelling. However, you’ll need to take it down a few notches tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?” I question as he releases one of my wrists.
I attempt to undo the other one, but he shakes his head in warning.
“Tomorrow is the funeral. You’ll be attending with me.”
Anxiety flickers in my belly. “No. Margaret and Cain are trying to kill me, remember?”
“No one will touch you,” he bites out, his face contorting into something dark and menacing. A contrast to the soft kiss he places on my raw and tender i
I yank my hand away. “No.” Turning onto my side, I fiddle with the fabric still keeping me hostage. “I’m not going, and you can’t make me.”
I refuse to intentionally make myself a target so the people in town can make fun of me. Last night was bad enough…even with my identity hidden behind a mask.
My belly dips. I swear some of them knew exactly who I was, and they were just waiting for the right moment.
Relief fills me when the knot loosens and I’m able to free myself. Unfortunately, my victory is short-lived because Damien rolls me onto my stomach and pins me to the mattress with the weight of his body. “If you insist on acting like a child, I’m going to treat you like one.”
I want to tell him I’m not acting like a child—I’m battling with an issue he knows nothing about—but he doesn’t deserve to know those personal details about me.
“Treat me however you want. I’m still not going, asshole—”
My breath leaves me in one big whoosh when he jerks both my arms behind my back and fastens them. Before I can process what’s happening, he maneuvers me into a position that forces my head down and my ass high into the air.
I start to argue, but the sharp sting of his hand against my flesh cuts me off.
My vision goes blurry when he does it again. He’s spanking me as though I’m a child in need of discipline. It’s utterly humiliating.
“Is that all you got?” I hiss, refusing to surrender.
The next one is harder than the first two, but I bite my lip and concentrate on maintaining control.
The man can beat me until I’m black and blue if he wants…I’m still not going to that funeral.
“Guess all your muscles are for show…because you hit like a girl.”
I don’t know why, but provoking him stirs something inside me.
Something wicked and provocative.
It’s as if he’s unknowingly providing me an outlet for everything I’ve been keeping inside.
I steel myself, preparing for him to issue the next one, but he doesn’t.
I’m even more confused when he flips me and hovers above me, caging me in with his forearms.
His dark eyebrows knit together as he peers down at me. “Does he hit you?”
For the first time since we met, I detect a genuine note of concern in his tone. However, I don’t understand who he’s referring to or why he’s asking me this.
“Who?”
“Cain.”
I’d laugh if he wasn’t so serious. “Cain would never hit me.”