Page 7 of Missing Piece
I’ve seen this before…A fragment surfaced through the ketamine haze. A woman. Brown hair. Black eyes like ink spreading through water. Long, sharp teeth. The memory felt distant, like watching a movie through frosted glass.
The corners of Vincent’s mouth twitched, slowly curling into a blood-smeared grin, revealing four long, sharpened fangs in the place where his upper eye teeth had just been.
More memories crashed back: Vincent’s hand on someone’s neck, a sickening snap, a body crumpling to the asphalt. Adam reared back, Vincent’s slick fingers falling away from his jaw, and he slammed back against the headboard, making his vision blur. It didn’t matter. He swung his fist back out at the human shape—no, not human—in front of him and felt that satisfying burn again in his hand as it connected with some part of Vincent’s face. He didn’t wait for his sight to adjust as he scrambled toward the other side of the bed, a strange feeling of heaviness on his good ankle barely registering as he did. He just needed to put distance between him and the blond with the messed up face.
He reached as far as could, seeing his damp clothes and his shoes on the ground just inches beyond his reach, complete with his prosthetic sticking up out of his shoe.So close.But metal dug into his ankle as he reach, accompanied with the sound of a chain moving against the bedframe.
Shit.
Adam cried out as Vincent yanked hard on the chain, dragging him back from the edge of the bed. He propped himself up on his elbows, trying to maintain some composure as he avoided looking down at his stump. At least Vincent left the silicone prosthetic sleeve on. It only made him feel slightly less embarrassed and pissed off.
Adam stared up at Vincent, breathing hard through his nose.
Those eyes. And the teeth.
The memory of the woman became clearer of the dancer from behind the club. Beth. He’d snapped her neck.
“Y-You killed that stripper,” Adam blurted, unable to tear his stare away from Vincent’s face.
“Dancer,” Vincent corrected calmly. “They’re calleddancers. Stripper has such a negative connotation. And I did not kill her.”
“You broke her neck,” Adam said, attempting to push himself back just a few inches. The chain clinked against the bedframe, reminding him of his limited range.
“Mmm, yeah, I did, but she’ll be fine as long as she gets her bearings before sunrise,” Vincent said. He yanked on the chain, pulling Adam closer until he had no choice but to sit at the edge of the bed. “I didn’t say you could move.”
“Screw you,” Adam spat. He grabbed the cuff, trying to slip his fingers beneath it. There was barely enough space to get his fingertips under the metal. He shoved it down as hard as he could, the steel scraping down the flesh on the back of his ankle. He winced and slammed his fist down onto the mattress. “Unlock this thing!”
“Why would I do that?” Vincent frowned.
Adam leaned forward and shoved Vincent. He didn’t budge.
“Don’t you want to ask me what’s going on?” Vincent planted both hands on Adam’s shoulders.
The grip was incredibly soft but rough, each fingertip pressing into his skin hard enough to leave bruises. Adam grimaced, refusing to look away from his blue and black eyes. Of course, he wanted to know what this guy’s deal was, but he was more concerned about his ankle trapped in the metal cuff. He could worry about this guy’s supernatural freakshow later.
But cosplay didn’t explain how he moved so fast. Or the thing with his nose. His face looked normal just a moment prior. Adam had no illusions that he was insanely strong, but he knew the feeling of someone’s nose breaking under hisfist. Aside from the blood still smeared on Vincent’s face, his nose gave no indication it had taken a blow. The ketamine was wearing off enough for him to think clearly, and this was definitely real.
Don’t be ridiculous. Just play along and get out of here.
Adam gritted his teeth. “Fine, what’s going on here? Why am I chained to this bed?” he asked, glancing towards the door.
“No one is coming to help you, so don’t bother looking at the door,” Vincent said with a smile, tugging the chain until Adam had no choice but to sit at the very edge of the bed. Vincent cocked his head. “You know, at first glance, there is nothing special about you, but the more I look at you, the more I like this face.”
Adam jerked back as Vincent reached out to stroke his cheek and slapped his hand down. “Don’t touch me, you creep,” he snapped. “What are we doing here? What do you want? Money? Because I don’t have anything, so if you’re looking for a payday, go kidnap someone else.”
His stomach twisted itself into another series of knots as Vincent’s gaze roamed his body. Normally he’d at least appreciate someone checking him out, but that stare was too much. Too strange. And he didn’t have his prosthetic on.
“Kidnap? Is that what you think this is?” Vincent stroked the bridge of his nose before running his thumb along his bloody fingers. His expression looked distant for a second, as though he were unsure of the answer before he took in a sharp breath and focused on Adam again. “No, this is not a kidnapping. This is a trial,pet.”
“Wha—” Adam began. Vincent’s fist connected with his gut, sucking all the air from his body in an instant. His handswent to his stomach, his mouth agape as he tried to convince his lungs to fill with air. Those soft, strong hands dug into his shoulders again and shoved him flat against the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, his chest spasming as he finally pulled in a breath, a heavy weight pressing into his hips.
Vincent straddled him and leaned over to meet Adam’s stare. The distant appearance had returned, an empty smirk plastered to his face. “Three times,” Vincent said softly, running the back of his hand along Adam’s cheek. “That was one.”
“W-what?” Adam gasped, trying to convince the rest of his body to cooperate and shove Vincent off him. The lingering ketamine made his limbs feel like they were moving through syrup.
“I told you that you got one freebie,” Vincent said, pointing to his nose. “I like to think I’m a fair beast. You put your hands on me three times after that. It’s only fair I return in kind.”
Without another word, Vincent curled his fist and punched Adam in the left side of his face. The impact reverberated through his already aching skull, his jaw clicking and his teeth biting down on the inside of his cheek. He kept his vision shut, terrified that if he opened them they would be filled with tears. He couldn’t show that he was hurt. That he was afraid. Not to this guy.
