Page 33 of Alamort

“‘Hello, my Little Monster.” Her struggle stops. A smile creeps on my face. Fear. “I’m here for a chat. Can you do that? Or do we need a repeat of what happened last time?” A small nod conveyed her fear, the sharp edge of the knife an obvious reminder of her vulnerable position.

“I’m going to remove my hand, and when I do. I want your silence. Understand?” When she nods, I slowly remove my hand. She continues to stay silent as she was asked, despite her shallow breathing. Maybe I could train her.

“Atta girl, love.” At the praise, her body relaxes a fraction. She would claim it’s because she’s no longer being strangled. But I saw how she reacted during our last interaction. Her words can lie, but her body cannot.

Dragging a chair over from the window, each thump of my boots coming closer make her flinch. I lean back and sprawl out to make myself comfortable. I’m not sure how long we will be here. I can’t see the color of my chair, but I hope it’s not pink. Unless it’s the shade of Priya’s face when she gets angry. I would like it then.

“My mates seem to think you can solve an issue we’re having. But I think differently. They’re not seeing the bigger picture. I don’t believe you’re capable of the cruelty they say you are. Not in that way. What do you think?” I say thoughtfully. It’s more politeness that has me asking her opinion, because whatever she says won’t change my mind. She lies still for a few moments, gathering her thoughts.

“What is the issue I can solve?” Her voice is hoarse from sleep. The urge to tell her, to hear her reaction, is hovering in the back of my mind. Revenge, an outlet for their guilt.

“Not important.” I wave my hand at her like she can see. “But what I am interested in isyou.”Her breathing picks up again. We will have to work on her dramatics. I’ve only threatened her once.

“W-why me?” She questions.

“You’re broken.” My answer is simple. Saint and I, we love broken things. He likes to fix them, and I like to break them. We’re two peas in a bloody pod.

She shifts uncomfortably. “There are plenty of broken people. Go find them.”

If only it were that easy. She’s too far into the heads of the Demons’ and she doesn’t even know it yet. Poor girl.

“You don’t eat very much.” It’s a statement, not a question. I don’t need her to act coy.

“Oh, so you’re here about my eating habits? That’s why I’m tied up? It all makes sense now.” She snarks, making me grin. I likethisPriya.

“I admit, I’m curious.” The room stays silent.

Oh, we’re playing a game?

My knife hovers an inch away from the top of her nightshirt. She’s unable to see what I’m doing, so she stays frozen. I cut a line down the collar at the center. Not enough to leave her exposed, but so she’s aware of my intentions. Her breath hitches when my knife skims her skin, leaving a barely visible, thin red line on her chest.

“If I answer your questions, you’ll leave? You’ll stop?” she hastily utters.

I remove my knife and take a seat on the bed. I want to be near her. Inside her skin. “Yes. That’s the idea of a chat, love. We talk. But I can see you’re not very good at that.”

Huffing out her disagreement, “Most of the ‘chats’”, she makes air quotes in front of her face with her bound hands.“Don’t have the person they are talking to blindfolded and tied up.” She looks so pretty like this. Helpless.

“The eating.” I push.

“Yeah, okay. I don’t eat a lot.” Her words are sharp. I want to understand her.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to get fat.” It sounds rehearsed, something that’s repeatedly been said. The urge to touch her hair again becomes an impulse I don’t feel the need to tame. It’s so bloody soft.

“Why?”

“What are you? 5? Because my mom says it would make me look disgusting and unattractive.”

“When we were playing in the shadows together, I put my hand over your nose and mouth. You went somewhere in your head. Where?” My eyebrow twitches as I glare at her small frame lying still on the bed. I like to think fondly of our time together, but that’s one thing that drives me mad. I rather dislike being ignored and dismissed.

“Hmm, I don’t know, maybe because you were fucking suffocating me!”

Shaking my head, I disagree. “No, you fought me. Or at least tried to.” Remembering her poor attempt has me chuckling.

“But when my hand covered your face, you stopped. Went rigid. Something happened. What was it?” She ignores my question. I stop petting her hair to grab my knife. Slicing the shirt down to where the tops of her breasts peek out.

“I don’t want to answer that.” Cede to her request knowing it will come out eventually.

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