Page 29 of Missing Piece
Vincent folded his arms over his chest. “It’s not like that,” he said.It’s not. Nope. I’m just…horny and pent up and confused. It’s not that.
“Okay, whatever you say,” he chuckled. “I can’t make you do something you don’t want to without getting fucked up in the process, but I’ll just say this: figure out what you want to do with him soon. Make a decision and stick to it. We appear to have enemies up north messing with the blood supply and now enemies to our south who could bring those hunters closer. It’s better to get the personal stuff out of the way before chaos comes knocking. Because it will.”
“I know,” Vincent sighed. “I’ll handle it.”
He’s wrong. I don’t need Adam. Attachments to humans is asking for trouble. I don’t want trouble in my life. I don’t need it.
I don’t need Adam.
Chapter Nine - Adam
Fingertips. Cool fingertips. They brushed across his forehead, gently rousing him awake in a way that stirred a long-forgotten sense of comfort. Somewhere safe. Somewhere he could just be without feeling like he constantly needed to be ready for a fight. They traced his cheek and jaw, and he moved his face closer, wanting more of the gentle touch on his skin.
Adam heard himself muttering something incomprehensible, but he didn’t bother to try deciphering it. His head hurt and the bed was soft and warm. He could stay there forever, with those gentle fingers on his skin. Opening his eyes and waking up would mean coming back to a world that was far less pleasant.
“Wake up, Adam.”
There he was. The voice of the beautiful monster that drifted in and out of his dreams like a nightmare he wanted to have every night. And he did. And unlike the withdrawal fever dreams that manifested every sort of horror his drug-damaged brain could conjure, he never tried to force himself to wake up when Vincent showed up in his dreams. He let the monster do whatever he wanted and never said no, allowing Vincent to grab at him, bite him, choke him, bend him overand fuck him like some sort of rabid animal. And Adam was quiet, obedient, and docile.
Like a pet.
The ache in the back of his skull worsened. Somehow louder. He wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep even if he wanted to. He kept his eyes closed and batted at the hand touching him. “Get away from me.” He meant to sound more forceful, but his voice had no weight behind it.
“You usually sleep so restlessly, but you’ve been content today,” Vincent said. There was a softness to his voice, like he was being gentle on purpose.
But that wouldn’t make sense, would it? Vincent had knocked him unconscious after a blowjob so amazing it made the stars seem to dim. And that time Adam wasn’t even sure what he did wrong. “You can fuck all the way off,” Adam mumbled. He turned over, facing away from Vincent and bracing for whatever was going to come. He was being rude, after all.
He just didn’t want to have Vincent’s actual face be the first thing he saw when he did open his eyes. It was one thing to look at him before the previous night happened. Now? No. He had already been punched, slapped, bitten, and humiliated. He didn’t want to see whatever horrid grin lived on Vincent’s lips.
Why am I the one who’s embarrassed?It’s not like I blew him. But he had also babbled a string of nonsense at Vincent the night before like a virgin discovering masturbation for the first time and that shit was embarrassing. Logically, he knew it was because it had been a while and that getting sober had fucked up his sex drive. But it was something deeper. More raw.
It was his weakness. His uncanny ability to always give in to the grossest, deepest parts of him looking for instant pleasure and instant gratification that had allowed Vincent to touch him like that. It was the same part of him that hid behind pills for years, that part that hurt others so he could feel superior.
The same part of him that hadn’t been changed one iota since getting sober.
Vincent’s body pressed up against his back, one of his hands pressing against Adam’s chest as though to feel his heartbeat. “You would turn away after we had such a lovely night together?” Vincent’s hand drifted lower, pausing to rest on his stomach. “You wound me, Adam.”
Adam’s eyes snapped open, staring at the wood-paneled wall as he tried to figure out if the twisting ache in his gut was another rush of horniness or the desire to flip back over and break Vincent’s nose again. Probably both. “Back off,” he said. As much as his logical brain told him he should smack Vincent’s hand away, he didn’t move. He just…waited.
The anticipation was going to kill him faster than being a vampire snack would. The familiar push and pull in his head made his skin tingle. Just like talking himself out of flushing his last stash of oxys, reasons for not immediately trying to stop Vincent piled up on pro and con sides, divided down the center of his brain. He knew how things would stack up. They always stacked up on the pro-side of the most destructive and stupid choice.
Because that was what he always did. Make stupid and destructive choices.
“Do you really want me to?” Vincent asked, his voice hushed, almost a whisper as he pressed harder into Adam’sback.
Oh God, those hips. They pressed into his lower back, a slight circular movement that only hinted at the things they could do. Unrestrained possibilities danced in his mind. Adam shuddered. He was truly an example of the weakest version of a human. Was he really ready to forgive all of this for a temporary thrill?
You don’t have to forgive him. Hate-fuck him. Make him think you forgive him. Then escape,he told himself. It was a lie. Blatant and crude. But he had always been a good liar, particularly when it came to lying to himself.
“What if I don’t want to?” Vincent muttered. His hand slipped a few inches lower, resting along the waistband of Adam’s pants.
Pants! He couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to notice. He was dressed again. Which meant that Vincent had dressed him at some point while he was unconscious. He tried not to imagine what that must have looked like. Or if the brothers had helped. Imagining so many strange hands touching his body made his stomach churn.
Adam sat up quickly, pushing Vincent’s hand away from his waist as he did. “I’m up,” he grumbled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to keep his back to Vincent.
His right leg felt heavier for the first time in a week. Adam yanked up his pant leg, his mind trying to make sense of his prosthetic suddenly snapped back into place. Had Vincent done that as well? Two pairs of socks had been rolled over the prosthetic sleeve, just the right thickness he needed for the remaining portion of his calf to fit snugly in the socket. He never told Vincent how his prosthetic worked, let alone the fact that he needed to layer socks to make up for theshrinking muscle mass in his stump.
“How did you know?” he asked, unable to tear his eyes away from his restored foot.
