Page 26 of Poison Aches

That look messes with my head more than I’ll ever admit.

“I won’t repeat myself.”

“But you did,” she counters, earning a glare from me.

Fuck! If I just… throttle her little neck, what would happen?

Besides the fact that eliminating her now would be an act that goes against my fucking hard efforts of keeping her alive, would there be any other consequence of ridding myself of this girl who I’m pretty sure will become a major problem for me in the future?

Because for some reason, I’m not settled when I look at her.

When I think of her…a distress signal goes through my body.

Control is everything to me.

I’m the heir, the next Don of the Easton Family…I don’t have time to entertain variables, and this girl, seemingly harmless now, poses a huge threat in the future.

But… control needs intelligence.

I stare at the girl, thinking.

For some reason, when I talk to this girl, my stutter is nowhere to be found.

This is the part I don’t get.

Much to my mother’s anxiety and my father’s disappointment, I’ve had a terrible speech impairment issue since I first started to talk.

It’s usually so bad that I never utter a word to anyone most times.

A rumor about me being mute floated in Westbrook Blues for some time before. The potential of that disaster caused Mom and Syrus to act swiftly, silencing all that nonsense.

After all, how can power have such a shameful weakness as a stutter?

However, I don’t bother with conversation or small talk.

Everyone in the Family thinks because of my deadly silence, and my cold personality, I’m a monster that moves in dark, cold, eerie places.

And that’s what I want to be to this girl.

I want her to know that from now on, her life is in my hands.

She doesn’t seem to care nor is she aware of the danger she’s in now.

I want to be her monster, to terrorize her, make her feel the same way I do.

Branded.

Stuck.

Confused.

“Why are you here?” I growl, watching her closely.

My heart might be a shitty thing, but the rest of my senses are sharper than anything else.

I can feel her hesitation…and her fear.

“Uh, my grandmother said you haven’t said a word in a while. I guess she was wrong,” she mutters as if she’s shy.

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