Page 62 of Satan's Spawn
This is the first time I’ve heard Crayton resemble something that sounds like an actual laugh—even if it is a maniacal one—and I hate that it has the power to distract me from this wanton aggression.
His teeth are all white and perfect, even with the sharp canines.
I won’t get started on the dimple in his right cheek. Someone this deranged should not look this good, damn it.
If it wasn’t already obvious I’m in the dark about his animosity toward me, what Crayton says next has me downright flabbergasted.
“I won’t let you ruin anything else for me.” He reaches for the lapels of my blazer, attempting to take my jacket off.
Oh, fuck this.
“Funny, I was gonna say the same thing about you.” I raise my knee with a heavy jerk, catching him right in the nuts.
Take that in the dick, you dick.
Crayton hunches over with a groan, so I use the opportunity to side step him and run toward the door. Not bothering with the crow bar.
I hear the heavy thuds of Crayton’s boots hot on my heels, and he slams the door closed the second I pull it open.
“You kneed me in the nuts.” He states frankly, looking down at me with one hand on the door, as if I’m not fully aware of where my leg assaulted him.
“And I’ll do it again if you don’t get the fuck out!”
“So many big demands coming from such a little girl.” If Crayton is in pain, he’s no longer letting it show as he leans his back against the door. “A little girl who insists on staying in places she doesn’t belong.” Crayton’s eyes darken with menace as he pulls a switchblade out of his pocket, flipping it open.
This entire situation has gone from aggravating to terrifying within seconds.
My heart leaps in my chest, fear bringing forth tears to threaten my eyes, but I refuse to roll over, proving even more how much my common sense goes out the window when he’s around.
“Did you need more hugs as a child? Is that what your problem is?” I take slow steps back.
He blinks my way a few times, an unreadable expression on his face right before he reaches for my wrist to yank me in front of him. I tense, expecting the worst, but he surprises me by doing something so uncharacteristically…gentle.
Crayton pulls the sleeve of my blazer up to examine my arm, and his eyebrows draw in, as if the sight of flesh is foreign to him. I try to pull away, but as expected, he doesn’t let up.
“Your skin is so soft.” This should sound like a compliment, but it doesn’t. In fact, it’s as though the words are painful for him to say. “So pale, too.” He adds, still holding on, but I’m no longer fighting, just watching him watch me.
As if Crayton’s pulling me into the same trance.
It’s an odd turn of events for sure, but I’ll accept this over his wrath since he’s still holding a knife.
“I take after my dad’s side.” I don’t know why I’m explaining myself, or reaching for my sleeve to hold it up, but for some reason I want to.
I’ll blame it on fucked up teenage hormones.
Crayton’s lips part as he starts exploring me with his finger, focusing on the small blue veins stretching the length of my forearm. “There’s a lot of bad things that can happen to you in this bathroom, you know.” His blade takes the place of his finger, and grazes a lazy trail down my arm. Not enough to break skin, just enough to leave a thin scratch in its wake.
You’d never know looking at Crayton now that he has the ability to be as brutal as he was two minutes ago.
Well, besides the weapon.
And the way he’s squeezing my wrist.
Seriously, Bex. Survival skills. Get some.
The stinging from the knife has butterflies fluttering throughout my body, turning my conscience to static. From my toes, to my fingers, and when the cool metal reaches that sensitive area of my wrist, tingles surprise me even more by erupting between my legs.
It’s new, and it’s powerful.
