Page 35 of Touch Her and Die
“Go on, princess. I want to know your story.”
Her hand was clammy and shaking as I held it to my chest, to my heart. It just felt right.
“We always were going to run away and yet? Well, he was hurting her, and I wasn’t strong enough to fight him. I wasn’t strong enough to fight any of them. But a knife doesn’t care about your size, does it?”
Her gaze seemed far away, in another time, and all I wanted to do was go back to whenever it was and fix it. The guy I’d found? The one I thought would heal her, hadn’t even scratched the surface of her past and I knew that. How dumb could I have been to think that would help her?
A small little chuckle seemed to follow before she continued. She wasn’t looking at me anymore. I wasn’t even sure she was here. But I got a glimpse of her in the past, to see the girl that might have been before life had tried to destroy her. I would let her talk all she wanted.
“He was my first you know? But I was too late. He’d broken her neck, and maybe that was better than living with the wounds that never healed.”
Although, I’d suspected the truth for weeks. The more I dug into her past, it still was nothing to hearing it.
“Your uncle, he died?”
That brought a smile to her face.
“I’d watched a man on the street once, cut the artery in a man’s neck. Like this,” she said and mimicked a knife slicing over her own neck. “It was so fast, and oddly easy if they didn’t see you coming. He never saw me as a threat. The best part? He was still alive enough to see me cut off his little pathetic cock.”
With a brush of my thumb over her cheek the tears were gone.
“There’s my little crazy princess.”
We stood there for a few minutes longer, the silence killing me.
“Alright, let me show you to your room?”
The absence of words again was pissing me off. So I kissed her instead, hoping for some kind of commitment.
“Show me,” she said, and she pulled me along.
The house wasn’t bad. My cousin might have been exiled, but she was still a mafia princess in her own right.
“The room’s down here. It was mine whenever I had a chance to visit. But, well.” I pushed the door, and we walked into a bit more feminine version of the room than I would have liked. “I ordered a few things like your old apartment. Figured you could make this your space.”
I was a damn good stalker if you asked me, and from the looks of things, it was appreciated.
She kicked the door shut and pushed me to the bed.
“I didn’t finish my story. My sister and I were always going to run away, but she got stuck in a cemetery. Me? Well, I refuse to run from anything.”
My thighs hit the bed, and I sat, eyeing her. The crazy was back in those beautiful green eyes, and it was something I found scary and fucking hot.
“So tell me, Parks. How do you plan to keep me here? Fuck me until I can’t walk?”
My tongue ran over lips like sandpaper as I watched her flick open her shirt, button by button.
“Tie me to the bed?”
The belt she’d stollen from me at some point, she pulled that off and held it by the buckle, dangling it front of me like a carrot.
“No. Not you. You make me feel like I belong. Like wherever you are is—”
She broke off and let the belt fall on the bed and the shirt fall to the floor.
“What? Where I am is what?”
My eyes roamed over her body. The bra and no panties was a look I could get used to.
