Page 50 of Twisted Mates

I take my bowl and turn off all the lights except for the side table lamp next to the couch. With the remote in hand, I flip through the television until I find my favorite comfort show.

As I settle in with an episode ofCold Case Files, my thoughts turn to my best friend. I know Carrington can’t truly understand where I’m coming from with all of this, but to be fair, I can’t completely understand her point of view either. We just have to do our best to compromise in this situation.

Sometime between finishing my bowl of ice cream and one episode ofCold Case Files, I must have dozed off because a new episode has started. I click the TV off, pick up my bowl, and head into the kitchen.

But when I turn to make my way into the dimly lit room, an arm wraps around my throat from the back, causing me to drop the bowl, ceramic shattering to the wood floor.

I start to scream, but the person claps their hand over my mouth and says, “If you scream, I swear to the goddess I’ll snap your neck.”

My eyes widen and I thrash around, fighting to get away from whoever this is, whoever has snuck into the house to attack me. I don’t scream, but I do attempt to speak, begging him to let me go in a muffled voice that doesn’t even sound like words.

“Stop fighting me, woman,” he grunts, fumbling in his pocket for something. And when I feel the cold metal of a blade against my throat, I freeze. “That’s it.”

A chill runs through me. Something about this voice sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. I move again in one more attempt to set myself free from his grasp, but this time, he isn’t so kind with the knife.

He runs it along my skin and cuts the sensitive curve of my neck, not deep enough to kill me but deep enough to hurt. Tears leak from my eyes, and he slams me against the wall, trapping me between it and his bulky body.

I can’t see anything. He’s wearing a ski mask, a hoodie, and gloves. No part of his skin is showing and the only thing I can make out are his eyes. But they’re an unnatural white color. Contacts. It makes him even more terrifying.

“Listen here, bitch, you’re going to do what I say, and you’re going to do it now,” he demands, and I nod, just wanting to keep him happy enough that he doesn’t slit my throat. “Is there anyone else in the house?”

Immediately, I know I have to lie, shaking my head vehemently.

“I’m surprised your watchdog left you alone.” He slides the blade against the other side of my throat. Warm liquid flows down and along my collarbone. The sting left from the slice burns. Tears stream down my face. I have no clue how deep he cut, but it doesn’t matter. My attacker is far from done.

“You’re useless to me. Every drop of value you have vanished when you fucked this all up,” he says, his hot breath fanning across my cheek.

I struggle against his hold, fighting not only the threat to my life but this man’s hateful words. He is ripping into me in more ways than one. I thrash in his arms, flailing my feet as I scratch at him. The decorative table behind the couch screeches against the floor as I kick it. The vase on top tumbles to the ground, shattering and leaving water and flowers scattered across the floor, startling him enough to lift his hand from my mouth for a moment.

“Let me go,” I scream, doing anything I can to make a ruckus.

He drags me along with him as he heads toward the back door. If he gets me outside, all chances of survival will vanish. I will be as good as dead.

Carrington bounds into the room then, and her eyes widen when she realizes what’s happening. “What the actual fuck is going on? Let her go!”

The man points the knife at my chest and says, “Take another step, blondie, and I’ll stab her through the heart.”

A sob wracks my body. “Please stop,” I beg, more tears slipping down my cheeks. “You don’t have to do this.”

He laughs, a sinister sound that will haunt me for the rest of my life. Looking down at me, he hisses, “Oh, but I do. And now I’m going to have to kill her too because she’s seen me.”

“But she can’t even see your face?—”

He’s talked too much though, run off at the mouth for too long and not paid attention to Carrington. When I hear the click of the safety, I know she had time to slip into the hallway where the gun safe is.Thank the goddess. As long as he doesn’t have a gun too.

“Let her go, asshole. Now, or I will shoot you. And get the fuck out of my house,” she growls, and something about the way she says it must convince him because he tosses me hard to the floor and darts out the back door.

My knees hit the wood hard, and I cry out, blood pouring down my neck and slipping onto my arms to drip on the floor. “Fuck,” I gasp, trying to catch my breath.

A bang comes from down the hall, causing me to almost jump out of my skin. It doesn’t take long for me to realize that it was the basement door hitting the wall. Xander rounds the corner and stops dead in his tracks. He goes wide-eyed as he stares down at me. Sweat drenches his shirt and he heaves for his next breath.

“Alexia! What the hell happened?” he says, rushing to my side and dropping to his knees.

I open my mouth to speak, but the pain in my neck still has me stunned, so Carrington fills in the blanks. “I heard some noise down here, so I came down to check, and some man was in here, dragging her toward the back door. He had already sliced her throat, and she was bleeding. He told me he was going to kill us both if I made a move, but Lex distracted him long enough for me to grab a gun. I pointed it at him, he threw her down and ran out the door. I don’t know what happened before that, she’ll have to tell you when she calms down a bit.”

Xander growls and says to Carrington over his shoulder, “Go get me the first aid kit, please. In the hallway bathroom.”

“Okay, I’ll grab a towel and a new shirt for her too. That one is all bloody,” she says, darting out of the kitchen.

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