Page 16 of Boyfriend From Hell

Squeezing my eyes shut, I focused on my breath.

In, hold, exhale, hold. Repeat.

I slowly opened my eyes, chancing a glance down at the fabric I held tightly.

Dress, the voice had said.

At least they gave me clothes, I guess. And food. I glanced at the platter, but the offering had lost its appeal. Now the thought of eating anything from that plate made me want to vomit.

I can do this. I can get out of here. I needed to believe in myself for once.

Straightening, I shook out the material in my hands. The fabric unraveled as though it was the night sky itself unfurling from my fingertips. A long obsidian gown hung from my grip; the first thing I noticed was that the neckline seemed awfully low cut.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I held the dress up to my frame.

It seemed to be my size… which was off putting.

What an uncomfortable, lucky guess. I sighed out a mix of frustration and defeat.

It was either don this random, perfectly sized gown, or move forward and fight my way out of here in nothing but my current outfit.

This is so, beyond, fucked up.

All I wanted was to just spend my birthday wallowing in self-pity. But no, I had to let my hot freak of a neighbor in—and then I had to slink my way over to his apartment to check on him.

I definitely did not need to be abducted.

I cringed and used one hand to fling Felix’s old T-shirt off of me, before stepping into the dress. To my greatest displeasure, I found it very soft, and comfortable.

The dress hung a few inches above the cold, stone floor. My plain socks looked nothing short of foolish peeking out from beneath the gown.

Could they not have at least given me some shoes?

I searched the room for anything that could be used as a weapon, but the space was beyond bleak. Utterly devoid of anything useful. It hardly looked lived in, or used in general–save for the tousled bedding.

My gaze landed back on the taunting serving platter. I supposed I could use the cloche, or maybe even the tray itself.

Wait! I could use the plate! I stalked toward the tray—yes, the plate could absolutely work!

I snatched it up from the serving tray, tilting it so the breakfast spilled back onto the platter, some slopped onto the floor with an unsavory plop.

I crouched, clutching the plate with one fist and slamming it down onto the floor.

Nothing.

I slam the plate again, harder this time. Still nothing.

“Oh, come on!” I yelled, cocking my hand back once more.

A low laugh cascaded around me, making the hairs on the back of my neck raise. I sat completely still, except for my eyes, glancing around the room.

“You’re too cute when you’re frustrated,” a deep voice purred through the space, like some invisible beast stalking its prey.

“Piss off!” I fumed. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

There must be cameras in the room, or maybe some kind of speaker system hidden somewhere.

“But we haven’t even begun…”

The sound of the plate clattering on the floor echoed through the room as I stood and let it fall from my hands.

“What do you want from me?” My breath grew shallow with anger.

“Oh, other way around, sweet one. What do you want from me?” The sound of the voice coiled itself around me, like some sort of snake made of ice. “Based on your desires, we both want the same thing. Was that not obvious?”

When I opened my mouth to speak, I felt myself beginning to tremble. I knew if I spoke again, a rush of frustrated tears would gush from my eyes. I couldn’t allow that. I refused to be perceived as weak right now.

No. Nobody would want this.

I spoke slowly, “I…I’ll do whatever you want, just please let me go home.”

As the words left my mouth a soft knock sounded on the bedroom door. I was rooted to the spot, no part of me wanted to open the door to that damned hallway.

I remained tense, staring at the door as another cluster of knocks sounded through the dense wood.

“Can I come in?”

Why even bother asking?

Bile rose to the back of my throat as it occurred to me that my captor could be the one standing on the other side. I glanced down at the plate, lying just inches away from me—it would have to do. I reached down and snatched it up, holding it over my head with both hands.

“Fine,” I agreed, the bones of my fingers pressing into the surface of the dish. “Come in, asshole.”

If I charge him, maybe I could catch him off guard—

I watched as the door creaked open, waiting for someone to enter, but all that came was murky, dense tendrils of fog.

I swallowed loudly and clutched the plate tighter. I was so sick of these damned games.

The shadows continued to crawl into the room, slithering like starving serpents. I’d never seen fog move in such a manner, never mind that I couldn't recall ever seeing fog inside in general, it didn’t feel right. The tendrils seemed almost sentient—that sure as shit didn’t feel right.

I could run through it, but where would I go? Down the equally unsettling hallway?

That seemed like a terrible idea. Instead, I take a shaky step back, away from the oncoming tendrils. The wispy tips of shadows continued to sweep low along the cold stone, as if searching for something. I shake the paranoia from my head.

It’s just fog, or shadows…or whatever. Nothing with a brain. It’s not going to hurt me. It literally can’t hurt me.

The shadows grew closer and all I could come to terms with doing was continuing to slink back, one pitiful step at a time—until I ran into the frame of the bed.

My eyes bounced between the shadows that had slowly, but efficiently, flooded the room.

Without hesitation, I jumped onto the bed—my mind working overtime to make sense of the situation.

In mere seconds, the floor was engulfed by the writhing shadows, they lapped around the wooden posts of the bed like waves.

My shoulders began to burn as I realized I was still holding the plate above my head.

“You look like a fool.” The disembodied voice laughed from all around me, yet again, “What do you plan to do with that plate?”

I whipped my head around trying to find the source of the sound. Whatever game he was playing, I was well over it. I bared my teeth and scoffed.

The shadows had made their way on top of the comforter and were now moving toward my trembling legs. A sudden rush of cold rolled in from the hallway, the frigid gust blowing in with enough force to send the stray hairs back away from my face. My skin broke out in goosebumps.

The screaming burn that radiated from my shoulders from holding this plate above my head for so long served as a humbling reminder that I needed to get back to the gym. Who knew a plate could get so heavy?!

The shadows at the edge of the bed began to undulate, just as I lowered my arms. A soft glow no larger than an apple began to form, turning the onyx air gray. Without moving too much, I peered over the edge of the bed. My stomach tightened while I watched the shape expand.

What in the fucking hell?

Gray quickly transitioned to white. The first thing to break the surface of the hazy mix was two pointy…spikes? My eyebrows pulled together as the whatever-it-was continued to rise from the fog.

What had started out as fine points quickly revealed themselves to be stout horns. Horns that were nestled atop a dark-haired scalp, which breached the fog next.

Pins and needles shot across my face, a sudden reminder that I had barely sucked in a single breath while watching. I had been too enthralled by this living nightmare to register my lungs were screaming for oxygen.

Unblinking eyes emerged next, irises as red as freshly spilled blood—looking right at me. A mouth followed, curled in a hungry smirk, as finally, the body emerged.

I’d recognize that hot, chiseled face anywhere.

“No fucking way,” I whispered.

“You swear far too much for such a devastatingly beautiful thing,” he said as his smile grew.

Spots began to dance across my vision, my periphery slowly disappearing.

“Raios?” My words were beyond weak, strangled by fear.

“Hi, Deer.” His hungry smile turned warm. “Breathe, love.”

My fight or flight instinct malfunctioned and left me frozen as I tried to grapple with reality. My mouth was beyond dry, my tongue sticky. For a breath, we just stared at each other in silence.

He dipped a shallow bow and extended a hand out to me, his porcelain palm facing up.

His muscles flexed as he reached toward me slowly and raised his head slightly, level to mine.

He frowned slightly and began to withdraw his hand when it became clear I had no intention of taking it.

He looked as if the rejection had wounded him, his disappointment was evident.

The corner of his mouth twitched downward as he then scanned the room, “You didn’t eat,” he said, all too casually.

I offered only a blink in response, unsure what to say, if anything at all.

“You really should have eaten.” He exhaled. “We killed nearly two bottles of wine last night. You need food.”

His words filtered in through one ear and out the other. My focus was still stuck on his face, and the two finely pointed horns that seemed to protrude from his temples. I knew my mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish, and I probably looked beyond foolish. But I didn’t care.

He sighed, stepping toward the bed with soundless grace. “Very well.”

“What are you?” I asked as I recoiled from him.

An all too sweet smile unfurled across his lips as he gestured to his horns.

“You tell me.”