Page 46 of The Vengeance You Crave
Marching up to her, I pull her into my body, pinning her there with a tight grip on the nape of her neck.
"You're not leaving this place until every single inch of your body knows who owns it."
"You had me, Luc, and you threw me away. I'll never belong to you again." Her body trembles as she says the words, making me wonder just how forced they are. Something tells me that Peyton is very much aware of who she really belongs to. I'm more than happy to give her the evidence she needs.
"Yeah, we'll see about that, baby."
13
Peyton
I'm thrown down on the bed, bouncing unceremoniously in the center as Luca turns his back on me and storms through a door off to the side, the bathroom, I assume.
Not two minutes later does an ice cold cloth slap down on my outstretched thigh.
"Clean yourself up, you look like a whore," he barks before leaving the room.
I wince as I press the cloth to my chest, wiping away the evidence of what he did. I try to clear the memory of him marking me in such a primal way out of my head as well, but that doesn't disappear quite as easily.
Looking around the room, I try to find something to cover up with. The closet calls to me, but a loud crash from inside the small pool house startles me and stops me from moving.
In the end, I settle for slipping under the covers. I have no idea whose bed this is but right now I really don't care. With Luca gone, my body temperature is dropping by the second.
The clock on the nightstand ticks by but he doesn't return. I know he's still here though. I can sense him.
If he's trying to drive me crazy, then I hate to admit that it's working.
I rub my thighs together as I sit with the covers pulled up to my chest. My need to finish myself off is almost unignorable, but something tells me it would be a really stupid move to do something about it.
After long agonizing minutes, footsteps begin to get louder before his shadow fills the doorway.
Thanks to the drinks I've had tonight, plus the shots of vodka, my vision swims when I look at him.
Shirtless, the ink now covering one of his arms is clear to see, his pants are still undone at the waist, his hair is a mess and his face is still set as an emotionless mask. But that's not the most shocking thing, because that is the joint he's holding to his lips.
I hate it. This isn't the Luca I fell in love with all those years ago. This Luca is cold, cruel, vicious. His need to hurt me, to punish me for something that was entirely out of our control is the only thing he can see right now.
I know that I could probably make it better, that I could explain everything that happened since Mom dragged both me and Libby away to start new lives away from the lies.
Maybe if we'd stayed and she'd fought for what was right, then everything would have been different. The truth would have been exposed. My stomach twists, bile burning up my throat as I consider how many other young lives have been tainted because Mom decided to protect her own and keep the truth from the media.
"Luc, what are you doing?" I ask, my concern for my old friend taking precedence over my anger right now. Luca doesn't do drugs. His career is too important to him. So to see him standing there with a stream of smoke billowing from his lips is shocking.
He takes another deep drag before slowly releasing the smoke from one side of his mouth.
"Football," I breathe.
"It's cute that you care. Admirable, I guess."
He pushes from the doorframe and walks around the bed, his eyes holding mine.
"You covered up," he states.
"I was cold."
"Hmm…" rumbles up his throat.
Reaching forward, he pulls the sheets with one harsh tug. His strength is no match for mine and the fabric slips out of my grip and away from my body.
