Page 46 of Like Grim Death: Part One
And while he holds my gaze, he puts his fingers in his mouth and sucks off my spit, never looking away from me.
My skin crawls, and I don’t know if it’s revulsion or desire warming in my gut.
I clench my fingers at my side, my chest still heaving.
He drops his hand after he pulls his fingers out with apop.
“Remember what I said?” he asks, his voice low, his chin dipped as he stares at me. He jerks his head toward the bushes. “Get your phone. And leave.”
I shake my head. “Where is he?”
He smiles at me, and it causes me to take another step back because itisgenuine. At least… it looks that way. Somehow, it’s even more terrifying. “I don’t fucking know, Ella.Go. Home.”
“No.” My voice shakes, but I don’t care. I wrap my arms around my chest. “What the hell is going on? Cain came over and—”
“Cain is there right now?” He sounds surprised as he tilts his head, his dark blond brows furrowed.
I nod once. “Yes.Watchingme.” I roll my eyes at the last sentence, but Atlas seems more confused.
“Watching you.” He doesn’t ask it as a question.
“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth.
He slips his hands into his pockets, staring up and to the left, like he’s thinking. Then he shakes his head, and I know it’s a dismissal. “Go back.”
“No. I want to know where the fuck my boyfriend—”
Atlas laughs, and it’s the same boyish laugh as always, but there’s a bite to it that cuts me off. He walks toward me, closing the distance between us. I don’t back up, but it takes effort to stay still.
Then he says, “Yourboyfriend?”He moves his hand from his jeans pocket and at first I think he’s going to pull out a weapon, but as he grabs my wrist and cool beads splay along my exposed skin, just below my jacket sleeve, I realize what it is he’s holding as he flips my hand.
The crucifix from the rosary lands in the center of my palm.
Just over the scarredX.
“He’s not your fuckingboyfriend.”He snarls those words as his chest heaves. In the porch light, I can see the blue-green veins against his skin, below the sleeves of his T-shirt. He presses the crucifix with his thumb over my scar. It doesn’t hurt, because the backing is smooth, but I see the skin of his finger blanch over the crown of thorns of the miniature Jesus. He keeps pressing, and I keep resisting, giving him leverage, and after a moment, he quickly twitches his thumb, and hisses between his teeth.
I think I know why.
A second later, blood oozes along the cross from his finger. He snatches up the rosary, pushes it in his pocket, and before I can lower my hand, he’s grabbing my wrist with his other hand, then smearing his blood over my palm.
“He is yourmaster.Heownsyou.”
The words make me feel…strange, coming from someone else. A confirmation of what Maverick’s claimed all along.
Do I always just do what he says? Do I have any thoughts that are solely mine?
But I’m here, aren’t I? I’m doingthis,behind his back. “He doesn’t own me—”
Atlas’s grip tightens, cutting off my words. I look up to find his dark blue-brown eyes on mine.
“I thought we fucking covered that. You are not free,” he says, his words hushed. “You are notdating.You cannotleave him.It’s why me and you do any ofthis.”He jerks me closer, the soles of my boots sliding on the damp pavement. “Is this the kind of life you want? Always at his beck and fucking call? Sneaking around to save your fucking life?”
I don’t know what to say. I knew it would be like this. What else would I do? I have no past to return to, no home to welcome me with open arms. For all I know, my mom has moved from the trailer Maverick took me from.
I have nothing.
But I don’t…want for anything.
