Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Marcus steps forward, and the light from the street signs flashes across his face in a way that makes him look even more handsome than he already is. Red flashes over his dark eyes and makes them look amber. Almost entirely devilish. A thrill, or maybe a chill, zips through me.
“It’s alright,” he says. “You’re safe now. Tell me about the boy.”
Compared to Marcus, Trent is a boy. Marcus is thirty-eight, and every inch a fucking man.
“I used to date him, but I tried to get away from him. I thought I was clear, but he found me by accident, maybe? Or, I don’t know. He can be a stalker sometimes. We lived together, but he… anyway.”
“Tell me everything,” he says again. There is cool steel in his voice. I start telling him everything immediately.
“I met him about two years ago. We dated for a year and moved in together. He didn’t have a job, so I paid the rent. And he had a temper. He used to break stuff…”
“Did he ever hit you?”
“Once,” I admit. “He was drunk. It was toward the end. I didn’t know it at the time, but he’d gotten someone else pregnant. He was angry. He called me a whore, accused me of cheating, and broke every bit of furniture in the apartment. Plus he put holes in every wall and door. I lost my security deposit and had to move. We got evicted. That’s why I had that rough apartment. Was all I could get after… that.”
“I see,” Marcus says. His voice is still calm, but there’s something about him that makes me quiver. I’m mentally replaying the moment he hit Trent, and how Trent just crumpled.
It was a beautiful thing, but it was also a frightening thing. Marcus was swiftly, and decisively, violent. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t do it out of anger—or at least out of temper. He might be angry. He might still be angry.
“I was coming back. I really was. I didn’t want him to talk to me. If I’d known he was anywhere near here, I would have… I don’t know.”
“Called me,” Marcus says. “You can always call me, pet.”
“He wouldn’t have let me use my phone. I was afraid he’d steal it or break it. Every time I talk to that guy, it feels like a hostage negotiation, but I’m the hostage.”
Marcus allows himself a small smirk. “Pet, you are never going to be in this kind of danger again.”
Marcus
I came looking for her, thinking she was being a brat, testing my rules and limits. When I saw her cowering before that man, I felt a pure kind of rage I have rarely experienced in my life.
“It’s just him, though,” she says. “Nobody else is a problem.”
I wish that were true, but the world is full of predators. She happens to know the name of one of them, but that does not mean the rest are safe. This city swallows people whole.
I have only owned my pet for a matter of days, but what good owner does not become inordinately attached to their pet immediately? Who picks up a puppy and does not care what happens to it only because the animal has been in their possession a short time? Attachment does not follow time.
It does seem that Charlie is incapable of going anywhere and doing anything without courting trouble.
“You’re not in trouble,” I tell her. “You probably should be, but you’re not.”
I pull her into a hug, and when that doesn’t feel like it is enough, I pick her up in my arms. This girl is mine.
“Thank you,” she whimpers against my neck as she squirms into the position that is fast becoming very familiar to us. She presses herself against me as if she is trying to bury herself in me. I know the idiot frightened her. I can feel her trembling ever so slightly.
“He’s never going to hurt you again,” I promise her.
She gives a little nod. She doesn’t understand that I mean precisely what I say. He will never hurt her again. He will never have the chance to hurt anybody ever again.
“I mean it, pet. Nobody is going to hurt you.”
“Okay,” she says in a small voice.
I had intended to take care of him privately, without her knowing what happened. I deplore exposing sensitive young women to brute violence. But sometimes, if you want your pet to know what happened to their old playmate, you have to show them the body.
Another car is already pulling up. I settle Charlie into it, and accompany her back to my place. I spent so much time setting up her little apartment, but it seems as though that abode is not going to get much, if any, use.
“Get cleaned up. Anatole will prepare whatever you want, just put it in the app,” I remind her. “I have some further business to attend to tonight.”