Page 40 of The Monster of Hotel No. 7
Maybe ‘sheltered’ isn’t the right word.
“This is weird, Sullen.”
His eyes flutter closed for one second. Another. He looks so vulnerable, I want to cross the space between us. Wrap my arms around his broad frame.
But I don’t move as he blinks open his eyes.
“I know,” he finally says. “But it seemsnormalto me.”
I want to stick out my tongue at his bite, the way he throws the word back in my face. I want to refuse, too. To tell him this is insane, but… so is my entire life. Even without the constant crush on Sullen, being born into Writhe makes us all a little strange. Who else has their parents come home with bullet wounds or knife lacerations? Who else hides inside panic rooms as children, a constant alarm? Who else can’t form friendships without fear of their bond being used as ransom? Or mistrusting even the best intentions, scared a simplehellois a precursor to blackmail? And for Sullen… even the rest of us in Writhe haven’t lived what he has.
Besides that, I know Mads and my parents will find me, eventually. I won’t be down here forever.
Will I?
I close my eyes tight as I ball my hands into fists under my ribcage. I want to trust him. I want to help him. But I don’t want to die down here.
“I won’t hurt you, Karia.I promise.”His voice is low and nearly soothing. For some reason, I trust it less.
It sends a shiver down my spine.
He can’t accept my compliment, but he wants to seduce me into being strapped down for him? Like an experiment in this hotel dungeon?
I don’t know if he keeps promises. I don’t know if he keeps anything, aside from in jars, like the rabbit.
Before I can decide, think throughanything,I hear him move, steps soft along the cement floor.
My eyes flash open, my entire body tense.
He stalks toward me, and fear strangles my voice for a moment. I back up, swallowing hard.
“Sullen—”
He lunges for me then, and I angle myself backward, jumping, leaping, ready to turn and slip into the darkness cut out in the wall. I spin around as my heart leaps to my throat, my thoughts a mess.I shouldn’t have saved him. A crush doesn’t mean I can trust a monster. He never wrote me back. He stayed away for two years. Why would he keep me alive now? I don’t mean anything to him.
I dart to the gaping hole, ready to take my chances inside of it. But he grabs me then, jerking sharply on my hair. I cry out, my throat taut, neck wrenched backward.
The momentum of him crashes us both against the drywall, my palms up as rough plaster meets my skin. I hear a thud and something scattering, then I realize he kicked the nightlight from the wall, the way total darkness drenches us inside this tomb.
His body is pressed to mine as I try to breathe, elbows bent, forearms against the craggy wall. His gloved hand is still inside my hair, keeping my chin lifted, water blurring my eyes in the blackness.
I feel his arm glide along my shoulder, and I know he has pressed his other hand to the wall, pinning me here.
Oh, God.
“You said you won’t hurt me,” I manage to choke out, the words scratchy from fear and the angle of my throat. “You promised. I saved you.”
He laughs lightly against my ear, breath warm on my skin. “Youdamnedme.”
“I hit my friend for you.”
He wraps my hair tighter around his fist, knuckles grazing the back of my skull.“Friend,”he says, the word full of hoarse disdain. “What thefuckis that, Karia?”
The words hurt. I wish they didn’t. I wish I didn’t feel so muchempathyfor him. But I can’t help that. I have always been intrigued with the prince of Writhe.
“Let me go. I’ll get in the chair. Just… Let me go,” I try to bargain.
He glides his mouth over the lobe of my ear, but it is not a kiss. “Do you know how much I will suffer for this?”
