Page 136 of Satan's Spawn
A sudden heap of anger builds in my gut, reminding me of how he left things last week.
“You disappeared. Tell me why.” I demand.
“Aw, you missed me.” He mocks me with a few bats of those long eyelashes.
“No. I’m abhorred by you!” I shove him in the chest, unaware of where this bravery is coming from when we both know he holds all the metaphorical cards.
Crayton chuckles at my attempt to move him. “Most people are. Yeah.”
So many questions filter through my mind, but only one makes it out the gate.
“Why are you here?”
“You know exactly why I’m here.” He growls.
“I can promise you I do not.”
He shakes his head, like a parent does when disappointed. “Tsk tsk, Little Ghost, weren’t you just seeking absolution for those lies?” His eyes lower to slits. “So, tell me, why didn’t you complete Beckett's assignment? Did you want my attention so badly you’d risk invoking my wrath?”
“Maybe I did.” I bite out, right before I add, “But not for the reason you think.”
Crayton snatches my wrist, squeezing it as he lurches me forward. “So it’s not because you wanna know why I refused to play tonsil hockey with you in the pool?”
It takes everything in me not to flinch at that question.
Show my hurt.
“No, believe it or not my entire world does not revolve around whether or not some asshole wants to kiss me.”
I think I succeed because Crayton stays silent, his lip twitching.
“So, we’re doing this again?” I look down at where we are connected. “You looking to leave more marks on me like you did Sunday night?”
Crayton lets go, tilting his head to the side for a few beats, then says, “Trust me, Rebecca, when I hurt you, there will be no question.”
“Explain this, then.”
I wipe away the concealer covering remnants of my wounded neck, then reach down for the phone in my bag, turning on the flashlight. There’s not much discoloring left, and I’m not sure if Crayton can even see it, that is, until the look of pure unadulterated rage spreads across his face.
“Is that a bruise?” His question comes out as a low rumble, then he cups the back of my neck to bring me closer. “How the fuck did that happen?”
I’m taken by the honesty in his question, his shock being as genuine as mine when I found it.
Could it really be it wasn’t him? Who else would break into my dorm room to hurt me?
I doubt Alexis would waste her time or a manicure to climb in through the damn window.
“I woke up from a…” I swallow, catching myself before looking away. “I took something to fall asleep on Sunday, and when I woke up Monday morning I found it.”
A cheshire grin spreads across Crayton’s lips, as if he’s realized something.
“What’s that look for?” I ask nervously, since Crayton’s face is drawing closer to mine, the previous anger dissipating into thin air.
“So…youweredreaming about me that night.”
My eyes turn to saucers and I break free of his hold. “So youwerewatching me sleep!”
“I plead the fifth.” He steps closer, and I instinctively take a step back, falling into the chair. Crayton lowers himself until he’s crouched before me. “Now tell me, Rebecca,” he grazes his thumb across my neck, “were you dreaming about my hands around your throat? Is that why you did this?”
