Page 57 of Hearts Held
She hesitantly looks between Dr. Brendon’s body and my towering stature.
“I…” she starts, then exclaims, “Are you going to blackmail me?” Her piercing eyes narrow and a small piece of my icy heart cracks from her question.
“Heavens no. I’m disappointed about that thought coming to your beautiful mind. You think I’d do that to you, love?” I reply, watching as her facial features change from accusatory to conflicted.
She just doesn’t know what to do in this situation, so I need to have patience and guide her. Taking in a deep breath, I catch her scent. Cracking my knuckles, I letout a small exhale and focus before I decide to break and take her on the stairs.
She speaks. “I need to fix this. How? How do I fix this, Everett?” she mutters, her delicate hands gesturing to Dr. Brendon’s body. God, the way she says my name. I have to bite my lip, careful of my own gestures and words. Placing my hands in my pockets, I fight the urge to reach for her then take a step over the body and stand in her space.
I look down at my beautiful, murderous creature. “I’ll always clean your messes, my dear. I would be honored,” I state, leaning toward her. I take a small inhale of her perfume and give a tiny shake of my skull. “Hell, I’m proud you finally made one and embraced your true nature…” Before I begin explaining our next steps, and while fighting my urge to kiss her, I ask, “Where’s Piggy boy?”
She cocks her head in confusion, looking down at Dr. Shit Bag’s body, as if I’m referring to him. “What?”
Then her beautiful eyes go wide as she looks back at me. “Oh, shite, I left him outside! Oh God!” She stumbles over her own feet to run toward the back door, letting the ginger brute back in. He comes barrelingdown the hallway, bypassing me and heading straight toward Dr. Brendon’s body.
Pig immediately latches onto the lower leg of Dr. Shit Bag, pulling on the trousers. Then Piggy does something utterly entertaining that I have only seen a honey badger do, called ragging: he violently shakes Dr. Shit Bag’s pant leg between his giant jowls. Of all things, this makes me break.
Bringing my scarred fist to my mouth, I try to act like I’m coughing, but fail to hide my laughing. “I see Piggy wasn’t a fan of him either.”
“Oh hush! Tell me what to do, knobhead!” she sneers in an adorable fashion, hands still atop those delectable hips.
I begin. “First instruction, kick him in the balls.”
I didn’t think she could furrow her brow more.
“What!? Everett, for fuck’s sake!” she exasperatingly huffs, then panics. “I’m not kicking a dead man in the balls!” As she states that, a moan comes from Dr. Shit Bag’s body.
“Oh, fuck!” she shouts.
Piggy begins shaking the leg even more aggressively.
Another moan escapes thebody.
I roll my eyes as she continues to panic. “Oh God, oh no. What am I going to do? This is awful!” She places her hands over her face, pure turmoil etched across her features.
Standing straighter, I palm the pistol in my pocket. “Pity. He isn’t dead,” I remark, then hear Piggy grunt as he juts back a couple times, causing Dr. Shit Bag’s body to slide across the ground.
“Piggy, stop!” she yells.
“No, keep going. It’s funny,” I state. I think the dog gives me an agreeing snort as he persists with towing Dr. Shit Bag’s body slowly down the hall. I gesture at the moaning meat bag. “Will you kick him in the balls now? He isn’t dead and he deserves it,” I mention.
She lowers her hand. “Everett, I can’t, he’s already down and—”
I raise my palm in the air. I cut off her next words for her own good. “With all due respect, dove, what about all the people that kicked you when you were down? Hmm?” Moving ever so carefully toward her, I invade her space. Leaning forward, my face next to hers observing her body language, I close any gaps. I watch her eyes follow my arm as it loops around her waist, pullingher closer. Nuzzling my nose against her soft cheek, I state, “Stop showing mercy to those who don’t deserve it. Stop diminishing yourself and giving others excuses to keep peace. Hurt those who hurt you.” A pregnant pause settles between us. There is a charge of electricity from our bodies being at such close proximity.
I can barely stand it.
I’m drunk on her essence and I’ve not even kissed her. This is dangerous.
She whispers, “I don’t want his blood on my hands. Please.”
I give her cheek a small kiss. “You don’t need to beg or barter. I’ll take care of this, on one condition.”
Gently, I caress my finger down her nose as she stares up at me with wonder in her eyes. A longing grows within me as I trail two fingers over the bottom of her soft lip. Her mouth parts as I feel her exhale on the tip of my finger.
“I need you to defend yourself. I may own this town, but it’s dangerous. I need them to underestimate how dangerous you can be.” Slowly, I grasp my hand softly around her throat, making sure not to squeeze, not to scare her. Her breath hitches as her pupilsdilate.
“How?” Her cracking voice bobs under my palm.
