Page 107 of Twisted Ties
Azlan bristles.
“What? Do you want me to get down on my knees and beg?”
If the memories floating around her mind are anything to go by, she’s been spending more than enough of her time on her knees, even if the idea is appealing.
You’re a pervert, she says loud and clear in her head and I wonder if she made a wild guess at what I was thinking or actually read my thoughts.
I meet her eyes and damn electricity seems to flicker in the air between us.
“Please will you help me,Sir?” she says.
Just to antagonize her, I lift my cup to my lips and take a long slow gulp, as if I’m considering her request.
“You’re as curious as she is to know what’s in those memories. Stop being an asshole,” Azlan says.
“I do have essays to mark,” I say pointing to the pile of papers on the floor.
“Since when do you actually grade our papers?”
“Phoenix,” Azlan growls.
I tear my eyes away from the girl up at him. “I’m only messing. I’ll do it. Just let me get dressed first will you. You can barely call this a civilized time of day.”
When I return a half an hour later, having taken an especially long shower, I find the girl in my armchair and Azlan frying eggs. I see he’s left the bacon in the fridge.
“We’ll eat first,” he tells me.
“It’s probably done best on an empty stomach,” I say.
“Because it’s going to hurt,” she says glaring at me, reminding me of the pain the last time I forcefully tried to rip these memories from her mind.
And in doing so reminds me what I’d seen floating through her mind that night, what had triggered me into wanting to rip them from her in the first place. That wound. That wound that had looked like crimson magic.
I keep my face blank. Now she’s inviting me into her mind, I’ll be able to see for myself.
“It won’t hurt,” I tell her. “But it won’t be pleasant either. Someone invading your mind can leave you shaken, sick.”
“You still want to try?” my friend asks her, sliding eggs onto waiting pieces of toast.
The girl sniffs. “Yes.”
“Right. Then follow me to the bedroom.”
“Excuse me?” she says.
“I need you lying down.”
“I can lie on the floor.”
I chuckle. “You’re ridiculous, but fine. Suit yourself.”
She slides off her seat, eyeing me as she does and rolls down flat on the floor, her hands resting on her stomach. She’s wearing jeans that hug her hips and a loose t-shirt that’s ridden up to reveal a soft strip of her belly.
I grab a piece of toast and take a large bite, eyeing her.Then stride towards her, peering all the way down at her, laid out on my hard wooden floor.
“Comfortable?” I ask her.
“Very,” she says.
