Текст книги "Meet Me in the Dark"

Автор книги: J. A. Huss

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“I like the sting of reality. It reminds me I have no control over any of this.”

– Sydney

Syd.

“Don’t call me—”

His hand wraps under and around my throat, not squeezing the breath from me, but cutting off my protests. “Let’s review, Sydney. I push your limits. You beg me for more. Got it?”

“Is this how you killed the other girls you were close with,” I squeak past his grip. “Pushing their limits? Is this how you’ll kill me? Begging you for more?”

“You can only hope.” A hand slips under my hips and I automatically lift them up to allow him access. “Because hey, if it’s your time to go, might as well go out screaming with pleasure instead of screaming in pain.”

“Ha. I know you didn’t kill those girls.”

“Then why start a fight?” He plays with my clit as he says the words.

I bite my lip and hold in the moan. “Because that’s what you want, right? The fight? That’s what turns you on? Garrett likes submission. But that’s how the two of you are different. You like the fight.”

He yanks my hair so hard I cry out. I try to look up to gauge his reaction to my words, but he holds the hair close to my scalp, preventing me from seeing his face as he leans into my shoulder and whispers in my ear. “Don’t compare me to him. We parted ways for a reason. We’re not the same, wildcat. He kills by accident. I kill with purpose.”

The words tickle my ear and I shudder. Not from his fingers, still doing that very thrilling circular motion over my sweet spot, but from the fact that he didn’t deny killing the other girls even though I know he didn’t. I feel a small surge of power. “So you’re saying you did kill them?”

“What do you know about them?”

“I know they were your girlfriends. I know they went missing. And I know you didn’t kill them. You sent them away.”

He chuckles a little. He sounds almost normal when he does it, too, like it really is funny. “You know nothing.”

“I know you didn’t kill them because I was there when Garrett did.”

Case goes still above me.

“He knew you set it up to make it look like they went missing. But he found them. Long time ago, Case. He found them and brought them up into the mountains where we were staying, and he made me watch.”

“You’re lying.”

“He took a picture of me with a blood-covered knife to the one girl’s throat.”

“Liar.”

“He said he was gonna send it to you if I didn’t do as I was told. And then you’d come take care of me for him. And isn’t that funny? That you threaten to kill Brett if I don’t do what you say? You and Garrett are more alike than you think, Case. You just can’t bring yourself to admit it.”

There is a brief moment of silence and during these microseconds, I tell myself I didn’t actually say that.

Case’s fist crashes against my head, dragging me far away from that delusional wish. I see the blackness before he even starts squeezing my throat. I grab at him, buck my back and try to get him off me, cursing myself for being in such a submissive position in the first place. He flips me over, but instead of more blows, he gets up, spreads my legs and eases himself between them.

I hold my breath.

He licks me. He licks and kisses each of the poke marks he made on my upper thighs with his knife. “Did that hurt?” he asks.

“What do you think?”

“I think you liked it. I think you wanted more.” He grins at me between my legs. “I think you want me to do more right now.”

He does more. His mouth reaches higher, his hands gripping my legs a little bit tighter as his head moves towards my pussy.

I don’t move.

He looks up as he hikes my knees up to my face and sweeps his tongue across my folds. His lips part and then he sucks my clit into his mouth. Not hard and demanding, but with just the right amount of swirling pressure to make me moan out and arch my back. No one has ever licked me there before.

He slips in a finger and teases me in two ways now. This feels so good, I have to close my eyes to block him out.

“You still wanna fight me, wildcat? You still want to have that conversation?”

But I don’t. I said too much. So I bite my lip and tip my head back, enjoying it.

“You got it all wrong, Syd.” I hate that he calls me that. “I already told you. The hard fuck is hard on you because I push your limits. Not because I fuck you hard.”

“So push me,” I whisper. “Throw me over the edge of the cliff, Case. And if you want to kill me in the process, well, I’d love for my end to be filled with so much irony.”

He never responds. Or he does respond, but not with words. The time for talking is over.

He gets up and stands next to the bed. I watch the muscles in his arms move as he drops his pants and steps out of them, giving them a swift kick across the floor.

I never even try to get away. It’s just not in my nature. I’ve been waiting for this moment. And I even take it one step further and lift both arms over my head and grab hold of the rusted iron headboard.

The crooked smile on his face says this was a good move.

We are players. We are playing.

I track his body, watching the fluid moment of what makes him so dangerous, as he walks to the foot of the bed, grabs my ankles, and pulls me so hard my shoulders cry out in pain before I have the good sense to let go of the headboard.

My body is twirled around and positioned until my head is hanging off the end of the mattress. His cock is right in front of my face, but I meet his gaze. His amber eyes are glowing from the dying firelight that leaks in from the other room.

I wait for the questions to start. He must have so many.

But he is silent as he eases his cock into my mouth. It slips to the back of my throat and my hands are instinctively there, telling him to stop.

“Shhh,” he says, reminding me I have no say in the gentlest of ways. He takes each of my hands in his and laces our fingers together, giving me a squeeze of encouragement as he pushes past my limit.

I gag, but breathe through it the way Garrett taught me. And that was my yes.

He fucks my mouth until I am choking on my own spit. But instead of withdrawing when I feel like I will drown on my own saliva, he simply turns my head to the side and lets it fall out of my mouth.

His hands never let go of mine. I never try to stop him again.

He keeps going, my head bobbing back and forth against the side of the mattress until I’m dizzy. And then he releases down my throat and holds me down with my own hands until I swallow.

Only then does he release me and back away, never taking his eyes off mine.

I hold that stare and wait for a signal like Garrett used to give.

“I’m waiting, bobcat,” he says.

I cringe at the name. It’s so degrading. But I’m running on instincts now. The training has taken over and I’m powerless to stop it, even if I wanted to. And I don’t. So, “More, please,” is my response.

“More what?”

“Take it all, Case. You told me eight years ago you owned me. So take it. Take me. Take me the way you promised when you left me behind to die.”

His hands are under my shoulders, urging me to sit up. I comply. Because that’s my job here tonight. And then he grabs my hair and turns me around so my head is at the top of the bed once more. I grab the rusty rails and open my legs, inviting him in.

He slaps my tit, then my face, holding it in a tight squeeze. So hard I bite my tongue and taste blood. “Whore,” he whispers.

“Your whore,” I whisper back.

“Don’t fucking forget it.”

“It’s my purpose in life, Case.”

He slaps my face again, but I like the sting. I like the sting and I like the way his cock drags across my clit now that he’s on top of me.

His tip pushes against my pussy and even though I’m scared out of my mind, I ache for it. He thrusts inside me and I grip the rails harder. I close my eyes, but another slap brings me back to attention. He pumps inside of me, his huge cock stretching me so wide the tears fall down my face.

But then he pauses long enough to lie down next to me and turn me on my side. His hand eases down to my clit and he begins to strum as he fucks me. He plays me like the guitar. And I play him back—like a player.

I swell with feelings. I have never felt such emotion. Such hate and love. Such pain and pleasure.

I come like that. A conflict of emotions. A paradox. Simultaneously filled up and empty at the same time.

He pulls out and comes with me, once again shooting hot semen across my back in long squirts.

He rolls over, breathing heavier than I am. I turn to watch his reaction. His revelation, if you will. And I get something I never expected. A smile. “It’s not a hard fuck if it’s easy, Syd.”

“I’m a good little actress, Case. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” My eyes dart down to his cock, still erect, even after coming twice in the span of twenty minutes.

I look up, quick enough to catch his gaze dropping to where mine went. There’s a hint of confusion on his face as he sees the proof of what I told him.

“What the fuck?” He looks up from the blood covering his dick and finds my face. “What the fuck?”

“I told you,” I say in a hushed voice. The voice of trickery and lies. The voice of abuse and pain. The voice of the hush. “Garrett saved me for you, Case. He said to tell you to consider me a gift. For making you kill that girl.” I don’t want to add the rest. But I do anyway. I’ve practiced it enough times for it to roll off my tongue like water. “For making you kill her before you got a chance to fuck the virgin out of her.”

He’s quick to respond, I’ll give him that. Because he’s got that syringe out of the bedside table faster than I can turn away. He shoots it into my arm as I gaze up into his eyes. “Don’t feel bad,” I say as the sting of the drugs shoots through my muscle. “It was always you, Case.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“My dream guy. The one who taught me how to save myself. The one who came back after you left me there to die. He was always you.”

“It’s easy to hide in the dark. But the reckoning always comes in the light.”

– Sydney

It’s dark. It’s cold. And I’m alone. Not alone like he’s in the other room. But alone alone. Like he’s gone.

And can I blame him?

My stomach cramps so bad, I force myself to sit up and throw my feet over the side. I need to get to the bathroom. But as soon as I stand up and step forward, the blackness threatens to take over.

Fuck that. I refuse to soil myself one more time. I’ve been drugged for so long, I have no idea how many disgusting acts my body has committed over the course of this ordeal. But it’s over now. So I force myself to shuffle out the door, which is open, and into the bathroom. I don’t bother flicking on the lights, just sit on the toilet and relieve myself.

When I’m done, I run a bath in the dark and then go start a fire in the fireplace. There’s a package on the couch. I rip the brown paper open and take out a pair of white snow pants and a white ski jacket. White gloves, hat, scarf, and boots. There’s also a pair of jeans that is close enough to my size, a long-sleeved shirt, and a set of keys.

Under that is a wad of money and a cell phone.

There is no note.

“Best-case scenario,” Garrett says, “is that we fuck up his reality so bad, he leaves you there.”

I guess this is the best-case scenario. And as best-case scenarios go, it could be a lot worse.

I go back to the bathroom, flick on the lights, and lower myself into the water. There’s bloodstains on my inner thighs still. A reminder of what I did. I rub my hand over them a few times and they disappear. Washed clean.

All the stuff is still here. Shampoo, conditioner—which I didn’t use the last time I took a bath—even a razor. So I take my time before getting out, drying off, and walking naked out into the living room to put on my clothes.

When I’m ready I put the fire out, turn off all the lights, and lock the cabin door as I step out into the blowing snow.

In front of me is a Snowcat. Fitting, really. Since cats seem to be the trigger of change for me.

In front of that is a trail.

I get in the Snowcat and start it up, put one hand on the gas and the other on the two levers that control the treads, and ease forward out into the dark. The moon is out, and when you combine that with the fresh snow, it’s not as dark as it could be. The trail is easy to follow.

I think about Case the whole time.

Does he understand what happened? Does he feel like a fool? Does he feel victorious? Does he feel vindicated? Did my v-card make up for the one he never took all those years ago, back when he and Garrett were in the army together?

Does he have regrets?

That makes me laugh. And that laugh allows me to smile as I make my way on the trail. It’s almost inconceivable that I will make it out of here alive, so when I get to a fork in the path—the trail leading to the right, but the tracks of a snow machine veer off to the left—I feel a rush of relief that he’s not done with me yet.

Why give me a choice to leave if he is done?

I don’t want to leave. In fact, if this fork had not appeared, I’d have been very disappointed.

It’s all about the devil you know. And Garrett’s demons are unknowable. But Case is a mystery with a solution.

I take the path to the left and come up on that snow machine that ran out of gas about a half a mile on.

I stop the Cat and peer through the trees just to make sure I saw it right the first time.

The house. It’s really there. And the third-floor window—just a crow’s nest architectural detail that juts out from the roof—is lit up like a beacon in the coming night.

I take a deep breath and press the levers, slowly easing forward towards my final mission.

When I get to the house I shut off the engine and step out of the cab and walk up to the door to find a note.

Turn back, Syd. Go back where you came from. The bar is still there. Brett shut it down after I took you, but it’s still there and so is he. He’s waiting for you back in that life. I can handle things from here.

What a funny guy. I even laugh as I look up at the third-story lights. “Merric Case, you have no idea what’s coming.”

I open the door, step in, and close it behind me.

Inside it’s warm. Uncomfortably so, when I’m wearing all this winter gear. I listen in the silence that takes over after the closing door. Nothing. Not even the hum of a refrigerator. I don’t see a kitchen from the foyer, and it is quite a foyer, with ceilings stretching up twenty feet at least. The inside has the same cabin feel that the outside does. Well, in a more lifestyles-of-the-rich-and-famous kind of way. It’s got to be five or six times as big as the cabin I just came out of. One thing I can see from the foyer is the view. Breathtaking floor-to-ceiling windows showcase tall shadows that must be a coniferous forest that covers the valley, and the outline of snow-covered mountains.

I take a deep breath as I search for lights off in the distance, some sign of civilization, but the only light is the moon and the shine of the snow.

In the time it takes me to come to the conclusion that there is no way in hell anyone would ever find me here, let alone rescue me if things get worse, I start sweating profusely. Too many drugs. Too much frigid air outside. And too much artificial heat in here.

I unwrap my scarf and pull it off. The relief is immediate, but not enough. I take off the gloves next, stuffing both of these things into my coat pocket.

The strum of a guitar makes me turn, searching for the source. It sounds far away.

I look up and see a second-story loft behind me. It’s open to the downstairs, so that can’t be where he is. There must be more rooms beyond. I head towards the staircase, trying to keep my eyes both above and in front of me as I navigate the unfamiliar home. There are small lights on in various places, but not enough to take this house out of the shadows of a midwinter evening.

The strumming stops just as I place my boot on the first step. I stop with it. Listening. Nothing.

Then more strumming. That song again. The one I listen to all the time. Why does he play it?

Why does he do anything, Syd?

Revenge, I think. I mean, that’s the only solid answer I can come up with for why. Why take me? Why leave me, for that matter? Why tell me he’d be back? I don’t understand any of this. Not the shit that happened in the past and not the shit that’s happening now.

Like—why am I here? Not that I could’ve gotten far in that Snowcat if there are no towns around here. But that’s not why I came inside. I have camped in worse conditions than this. With the right gear—and the clothes he gave me count as that—it’s not so bad. And the Cat was enclosed, so no danger of mountain lions or wolves. The bears are sleeping. So even though I don’t have a gun, I don’t need one. Surely there is something at the end of that path he cleared for me. A truck, maybe?

Probably. I didn’t see any cars outside. There was a building that might be a garage. And he had to get up here somehow. But I’m pretty sure this place is not where one spends a winter. Roads close for the winter in Montana.

This cabin has the feel of a place that closes over winter. It’s probably not even his.

I take another step on the stairs and the wood creaks a little. But the strumming upstairs never stops.

He has to know I’m here. Had to see the light from the Cat as I came up to the house. Had to feel the disturbance in the inside air as I opened and closed the front door. I’d have noticed all these things with my limited skills. Merric Case’s skills might be a lot of things, but limited is not one of them. I’ve heard stories.

I take the next twenty steps without stopping and find myself in the loft. But it’s deceiving from the first floor, because there’s a whole other house up here. Another staircase, in fact, not connected to this one.

It’s a great open space with a few rooms scattered around. Bedrooms, I think. A bathroom. I walk past those and head towards the second staircase. The music is louder here, so that’s where he is. Up in the very top. In the crow’s nest thing I saw from outside.

I climb up two steps, stop, listen, then climb all the way up until I get to the top.

The room is circular, nothing but glass on all sides. The ceiling is taller than it looked outside, also glass. Merric Case is stretched out on a half-moon—bed, couch—covered in fluffy white blankets and pillows that line the windows. His feet and chest are bare, his jeans faded and ripped. His fingers never stop playing and he never looks away as I leave the stairwell and enter the room.

I’m burning up from heat in this coat.

I stop and wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. Just keeps playing that song.

I look down at my feet, a self-conscious move—a show of doubt, if I’m being honest—and see that my boots have tracked up snow. It melts into a little puddle beneath my feet. When I look back up he’s staring at my boots too, frowning.

It’s absurd to think he cares about the water damaging his hardwood floors, but that’s the impression I get. “Should I take them off?”

He looks back up at me and the strumming stops. “Why are you here?”

I don’t have anything to say to that. So I just stare at him.

“Did you at least enjoy it?”

“What?”

He resumes his playing and looks down at the fingers on his right hand as they pluck the strings. A new tune. Something simple. Just a melody.

“The sex,” he says, still paying attention to his instrument.

“Oh.”

“It was planned then, huh?”

His eyes burn into me as he waits. I’m preoccupied by the music and the memory of my first time. I let out a long sigh and turn away, kick off my boots and step into a puddle of water that soaks my socks. I pull them off as well, unzip my jacket and shove that down my arms.

He stares at me the whole time.

I drop the jacket on the floor next to my boots and then work on the snow pants. This takes me several minutes, and I have to sit down on the bed once I get them over my hips. I throw those on the floor next to my coat. And then I’m in my jeans and long-sleeved shirt.

“Did I plan on letting you take my virginity?” I laugh a little and squirm in my seat. “No, Case. I don’t get to plan anything. I carry out orders.”

“So Garrett ordered you to sleep with me?”

“It was a message.”

“Yeah?” Case asks, setting the guitar down on the couch bed next to him. He scoots forward, so he’s no longer sprawled out and his feet are on the floor. “I’m not sure I speak that language, so why not enlighten me.” He’s pissed, I realize. For being tricked into this. I have no sympathy for that. But I can empathize. “Why not explain it, Syd. Just get it all out in the open so I can decide what to do with you.”

“If that’s supposed to scare me, it doesn’t.”

He smiles, but not in a nice way. “I’m sure.” He stands up and walks over to me. He reaches out before he’s close, and when he is, he cups my face and lifts my gaze up to meet his. “What. Was. The message, Syd?”

“You’re even now,” I say matter-of-factly. “That was the message.”

“How does he figure that?”

I shrug. This makes Case drop his hands. I take a deep breath. “I don’t know the story behind you two. None of it. So I have no idea.”

“You’re lying.” He stares into me and this makes me shift my position. “Is your job done, then? You were here to what? Trick me into taking your virginity to even up a score that was never uneven, in a game I was never playing?” He laughs. “Please.”

I don’t even know what that means. “I’m yours anyway. So what do you care?”

“You’re a gift then?”

I shrug again.

“So Brett? He’s in on this how?”

“He’s not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Get out.”

“No.” I stand and point at the walls made of glass. “There’s nothing out there. There’s nowhere to go.”

“Get back in the Cat. Go back the way you came. And follow the trail I cleared for you. I’ve made arrangements.”

“No,” I say again. “I’m not leaving here. I’ve got questions. I’ve got a lot of fucking questions.” My voice rises. Not much. I’m not a yeller. I don’t lose control easily. “And I want answers. I want to know why you people have been fucking with my life since I was little. Why, Case? What the fuck did I ever do to you? Why take me? Why do any of this if you’re just going to send me away?”

“You want answers?” He bends down so we are eye level, placing his hands on his knees and leaning forward. “You sure about that, Sydney?”

I swallow down the fear that’s rising in my chest. “Yes.”

“Why would I give them to you?” He straightens up again, emphasizing the height difference between us. Like he needs this advantage.

There is no good answer for that. None at all. Why would he give them to me?

He laughs. “You don’t have any idea what’s going on here, do you? You’re so fucking lost.”

“So find me.”

He turns and walks over to the stairs. Walking out, I realize. “I can’t.” He looks over his shoulder at me. A flash of light catches in his amber eyes and sends a chill up my spine. “It’s too late for you. Too late for all of this. Everything—” He stops to take a breath. “Everything I feared would happen, well, it’s happening. No, it’s already done. And now I have to worry about me, Sydney Channing. And the people I actually care about, the few decent human beings on this goddamned planet I love, they are the only ones who matter now. Because if Garrett thinks this shit is over because he gave me his prize virgin, he’s mistaken. Fuck you and your boyfriend. Fuck you and your gift. Fuck you and your problems, Sydney. Just fuck you. This has gone on long enough. The only girl I’m interested in now is Sasha.”

And just like that, he walks away.

Again.