Page 41 of Graves

“Because Dom isn’t creepy enough to sit and watch me sleep,” she snaps, her fire I love so much coming out in full flame.

I narrow my eyes at her though, as a piece of that sentence lingers that I don’t like.

“You’ve called him Dom several times now.”

“So?” she questions. “It’s a nickname. Normal people use them from time to time.”

“Normal?” I question, enjoying the irritation that passes over her face at my teasing.

“Yeah, I understand it’s a foreign concept for a psycho stalker rapist like you.”

I blink at her words but don’t say anything more. The hate on her tongue is so strong, surprisingly strong. For somereason, I thought she would understand why I did all that I did. Why I will continue to do all I do. It’s all for her. For us.

“Eat,” I say as I set the food onto the bed beside her.

“I’m not hungry,” she mutters.

“I didn’t ask if you were. Eat.”

She looks like she is about to refuse when her stomach lets out a thunderous growl. Looking away quickly, she faces the wall but doesn’t say anything. I let out a heavy sigh before coming to the side of her bed. I crouch down on my hands and knees, I know how much she hates being towered over, before I meet her eyes.

“Please.”

My angel blinks hard once, shaking her head like she’s confused by me, before she turns back over and opens the bag, grabbing the first fry she can and plopping it into her mouth. I stand up, walking back over to my chair where I left her milkshake on the floor. When I hand it to her, her eyes light up, just for a moment, because of me. It gives me a rush unlike any kill ever has.

She hesitates for a moment before I nod in encouragement. Taking the cup from me, she grabs another french fry and dips it into her shake. It’s one of her favorite combinations. Sometimes she’d go to this little twenty-four-hour diner after work and order a side of french fries and a vanilla shake, never anything more or less. I started ordering the same thing too from the other side of the restaurant, and though I don’t love it like her, it’s not bad.

I watch as her chewing slows, and she looks up at me witha frown.

“What’s wrong, angel?”

“I feel like I should say thank you, but I hate you. You’re a bad person. I don’t think you deserve thanks.”

I nod at that, confused as to her dilemma. Her eyes narrow at that.

“You’re not even gonna try to refute it?”

“No. You’re right, I’m a very bad man.”

She swallows roughly for a moment but maintains her composure as she speaks.

“Are you going to kill me?”

I tilt my head to the side as I look at her.

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know what to think. One moment, I was dating my boyfriend, moving in with him. The next I find out he’s a liar with a secret twin brother who has been stalking me. Now I’m locked inside a bedroom with no way out.”

“The door is right there.” I gesture easily.

“So I’m free to go?” she asks.

“No.”

An irritated huff leaves her as she tosses up her hands.

“See? I’m a fucking prisoner. So just do whatever you plan on doing and get it over with.”

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