Again, and Violet is up against a tree.
Again, and she’s in my car, blood welling up on her thigh.
I shake my head to dislodge those images.
The violence I crave versus the woman dancing before me.
“I see you,” she says. Her head whips around with each spin, up on her toe. She turns breathtakingly fast, but she doesn’t lose balance.
Not until I step into the room.
Then she falters.
“Afraid?”
She narrows her eyes. “No.”
The music loops again.
“What’s playing?”
“It’s the ‘Moonlight Sonata.’ The first movement.” She tilts her head. “How did you find me?”
I tap my chin, pretending to think while I step closer. I circle to her right, away from the mirrors. She turns, keeping me in her sights. Smart girl, to think that she’s in danger right now. I want her against the mirrors, I want her on the floor. I want to rip through the thin fabric of her shorts and make her walk home half-naked.
I want her humiliation and I want her pain.
But most of all, I want to know where my photo album is.
“You took something from me,” I say.
She smiles.
Smiles.
Goddamn, she’s beautiful.
“I know.”
I narrow my eyes. “I suppose you would.”
She sinks gracefully to the floor and begins to undo the ribbons around her ankles. “Whatever you want to do to me… I may as well take these off. They’re too expensive for you to ruin.”
“But your body isn’t?” I focus in on her, my lips curling.
Yes, something in the back of my mind hisses. Ruin her for anyone else.
“My body will heal.” She meets my eyes. “Unless you’re planning on breaking me again.”
I smile, too. I can’t help it. “When I break you, it won’t be your leg. Or your ribs. Or your vocal cords. It’s your mind I’m after, Violet. Your mind and your soul, because that black heart that beats behind your ribcage? That already belongs to me.”
I thump my chest.
She starts and rises, newly barefoot. Still graceful, even afraid.
Oh, the adrenaline. Another shot, better than a drug, flows through me. I inhale. She smells the same, floral and sweet, with an undercurrent of sweat. When I catch her, I’ll lick it from between her breasts. Between her legs, too.
There’s no part of her that’s safe from me.
And she knows it, judging from the way she’s suddenly trembling.
I raise my eyebrow. “What are you waiting for, Violet? You know this game.”
Still, she waits.
For me to give the order? For me to announce which version of the game we’re playing?
The one with no safe words. No protection.
It’s about time we stripped away those barriers.
I lean against the mirrors and fold my arms over my chest. She’s breathing hard, although I’m not sure if she realizes it. Her chest rises and falls rapidly. It’s an elixir I didn’t know I needed, so I open my mouth and give the only order she’ll listen to.
“Run.”
There must be something about this time that makes her believe it’ll be different, because she doesn’t hesitate. She leaves everything behind—her precious pointe shoes, her phone and bag in the corner.
She bolts out the door, and I count to five in my head. I pull my sweatshirt off and drop it to the floor next to her shoes. I crack my neck and roll my shoulders back, taking a deep breath.
Then I chase.
The door to the street is just closing when I hit it. It slams open, loud in the quiet night. I spot her on the sidewalk, booking it away from me, but the noise makes her flinch. I break into a run after her.
I’m faster.
It won’t be long before I catch her, unless I toy with my food before I devour her…
She must step on a stone, because she suddenly stumbles. I purposefully slow, letting her feel my hand graze her back. If I had wanted to stop her, I could’ve. But she lets out a frightened yelp and puts on a burst of speed.
She knows this chase is different.
Last time, she went toward the woods. She wanted to be concealed when I fucked her. This time… this time, I’m not going to take her where I catch her. As much as I want to, I’m not going to ruin this experience for us.
We’re at the edge of the neighborhood when I run out of patience. The cat-and-mouse game can only last so long, and I’ve already suffered through Coach’s practice. My hair is still damp from my shower at the stadium.
She’s been yards ahead of me, but now it’s feet. Then inches.
I don’t want to tackle her, so I grab her hair instead. I wind the soft strands through my fingers and guide her into a slower run, easing her back toward me.
She whirls around and shoves me—more fight that I would’ve expected, sure, but I’m delighted at the turn of events. Doesn’t matter what she does, though. If she claws at me, if she goes for my face. I’ve got one focus: her pretty little throat.
I wrap both hands around it, ignoring the way she pushes and grabs at my wrists. I pull her close to me and squeeze. Not her airway but her pulse. I want to feel it slow under my fingers. I want to know the moment she loses consciousness. We’re just outside one of the streetlights. I’m in shadow to her, backlit, but her angel face is crystal clear.
Her mouth opens and closes. Maybe she’s trying to tell me that she’s done, that I’m pushing too far. There’s no stopping this. There’s no stopping me.
Her fingers slip from my wrists, and her eyes roll back. She goes limp, and I quickly capture her falling body.
She’s right: this isn’t like before. I’m not going to fuck her until she comes or any such nonsense as that. We’re going to get right to the point.
This is an interrogation.
39
VIOLET
“Time to wake up,” Greyson says in my ear.
I open my eyes and blink rapidly, trying to make sense of where we are. Not on the sidewalk anymore, that’s for sure. The air is warm, absent of a breeze. I’m sitting with my arms over my head. I tug, but they don’t move. Something holds firm around my wrists.
A rattling to my right draws my attention. He stands at a wall of windows, pulling a chain to open the vertical blinds. We’re in the dance studio, and the lights are off. My eyes catch on myself in the mirror, but it’s hard to reconcile what I’m seeing with the truth.
I’m naked to my waist, my wrists tied to the bar just over my head. My skin pricks, goosebumps rising on my flesh. I force my attention away, back to Greyson. He still stands by the large windows, but his attention is now on me. He’s got the blinds open. Moonlight streams in.
“What are you doing?” I scoot backward, until I’m as upright as I can be. My back bumps the wall, and I tilt my head back to get a better look at what’s binding my hands. It looks like he’s used shoestring. I rotate my hands, trying to see if there’s a way for it to come off, but I don’t get far.
Greyson stops in front of me.
I pause and look up at him.
“You’re not getting free.” He nudges my bare foot.
I wince. I move it, bending my knees to draw my legs in close, and a streak of blood follows.
Stepped on something.