Page 34 of Festive Fugitive
He’s shaking like a terrified puppy, and dread creeps deeper into my heart. Because what if I can’t wake him up from… whatever state this is? I’m not strong enough to carry him inside, I would have to drag him. At this rate, he might just freeze to death or fall seriously ill.
I’m so overwhelmed and out of my depth stupid tears form in my eyes. I rub them away because there’s no time for feeling sorry for myself. I started the chain of events that led us both here.
“I love you?” I whisper with a heavy heart, looking into Cesar’s vacant eye.
It’s as though he’s staring through me.
My heart shatters into a million ice shards.
I take a deep breath of air that smells of pine and blood, trying to think of something to help Cesar, other than my pathetic confessions. I remember that the guy who made Cesar fold to the ground said something to him. Instead of using his gun, he fiddled with some piece of paper.
On hands and knees I shuffle in the cold mud to reach the dead body. I don’t have time to be frightened whenCesar’s life is on the line. The guy is still squeezing the small card in his cooling fingers. I rip it out, but of course, I’m so nervous, and my fingers tremble so much it falls. I grab it in panic to save it from soaking.
Something on this short list of sentences forced Cesar into the state he’s in now, and I have to work out the solution to whatever mind game is still in progress. At the top of the card is a three-line list of words with no obvious connections, below it, a single sentence.
To end: ‘Good dogs get their treats.’
My mouth dries, and I look up, taking in the dead bodies, and all the red stains on snow that used to be so pristine, but they offer no answers. The only clue I have is that ratty piece of paper, and when Cesar squeals, I turn on my knees to face him and read the last sentence out loud.
“Good dogs get their treats.”
My tongue feels like a piece of wood, so very stiff in my mouth, but while Cesar remains in place, his shoulders relax and he lifts his head to glance my way.
Tears have cascaded down his cheek, washing away some of the blood left behind by the four kills he succeeded at before the final thug brought him to his knees. He’s still not fully himself, but there’s a person watching me now, and I almost bawl with relief.
But it’s like he doesn’t fullyseeme despite looking straight at me.
“Cesar? What is all of this about?” I ask, tucking the paper away as I crawl toward him.
He blinks, and this time, there seems to be more thought behind his glossy eye. “E—Eli?” he asks, as if he isn’t sure he remembers my name correctly.
“Yes. Yes, me, Eli,” I utter and cup his face to grab all his focus. His eye shuts, as if there was no greater relief thanmy touch, and he turns his face to lick my blood-stained palm.
“I’m your weapon…”
I gasp, my eyes growing wider. “No, no, no… I love you. That’s what you’re for. For my love. It’s all okay, we’ll work out whatever happened here.”
The handsome face relaxes, and a low hum leaves Cesar’s mouth as he pushes his face against my chest. The cold air stings my skin, but when I feel himbreathe me in, heat spreads all over my body, all the way to the toes.
Surprised, I shuffle back toward the cabin, but then my back hits the lowest step, and he has me trapped, kissing his way up as if he needs closeness. “You are mine,” he rasps and licks me through fabric.
“Y-yes. Yours,” I utter, my heartbeat quickening. Dead bodies lie a few feet away, we’re both stained with blood, and I should probably reject his touch, but I’m not reasonable when it comes to Cesar. And it’s not just about his looks, or the way he takes care of me. I feel a spark between us that is irrational, rooted in the fury inside me that only he understands.
I want to be his.
Whatever he is. Whoever he is.
As he glides up the length of my body, he captures both of my wrists and brings them above my head. I shiver, stretching when he drags my chin up with his head, and then presses our mouths together in a shockingly chaste yet exciting kiss. No one before has ever had this kind of effect on me, and I doubt anyone else ever will.
We’re like two sides of the same coin.
“You said however and whenever I want?” he rasps, meeting my gaze.
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate, because it’s my biggest fucking turn-on to be desired like this. I plunged a hammer into aman’s head, and he still wants me. My toes curl as I realize how much I’m into whatever he wants to do to me. I saw him kill four people, and I’m not afraid at all.
I spread my thighs, in a state of complete surrender, and he likes it. I can see it in the raw desire blooming on his features.
“Mine,” he whispers and leans in for a kiss, his hands cradling my head while his tongue goes in deep, penetrating me as if he wants to show me I have no way out. But why would I ever want to run from someone who needs me so desperately?
