Page 30 of Dead Love

Kora on her knees before me. Her mouth level with my cock.

Once I said my goodbyes to Catie and Lee, I made my way back to the house. I put some fresh yogurt with granola in a bowl, then added a cup of lukewarm tea to the tray, then brought it down to the basement. I checked the surveillance footage; she was on the couch, biting her nails, her long, ragged hair tucked behind her ears.

When I met her, her eyes were cast in front of her. Blank.

I lifted the tray. “You must be hungry.”

She whispered something, her lips moving with her inaudible words.

“What was that?” I asked.

“I said, I willnotbe eating anything from you.”

I laughed. “It’s food. Not poison.”

“How would I know?”

“Because if I wanted to poison you, I would open your mouth and shove it down your throat.”

She glared at me, her eyes narrowed. I lifted the spoon to my mouth, my eyes glued to her as I swallowed the bite. She watched my throat, glued to it. I leaned forward with the tray, about to place it in her lap, when she smacked her hand underneath the tray, sending the bowl and glass to the ground, white liquid and chunks of oatmeal flying through the room. A glob landed on my cheek.

I stared at her for a moment, those pine eyes seething with anger. If that was how she wanted to play, then by all means.

I grabbed her by the hair and forced her down to her knees, burying her face against the cement.

“So this is what it takes?” I growled. “Ripping you from your home, a few mere hours in a basement—and finally, you feel something more than the fake happiness you wear like a second skin?”

“You know nothing about me,” she hissed.

I pulled her hair, lifting the skin from her scalp, and used my other hand to pry her mouth open. She snapped her teeth together, snarling at me, and I dropped her, letting her fall to the ground, then grabbed the knife out of my pocket. I flipped it open and she gasped. She stumbled on all fours. I pulled her up by the nape of her neck, maneuvering her around until the blade was on her throat. She pressed against me, trying so hard to inch away from the knife. Blood rushed to my cock, swelling with heat.

“What does this feel like, Kora?” I pressed the metal into her skin, not enough to break it, but enough that she choked down a labored swallow. “Is it fear? Is it lust?” My dick twitched against her and she grimaced. “I bet you get wet when I hold this knife to your neck. Don’t you? You don’t know why it turns you on, but it does, doesn’t it?” I laughed. “I know you better than you think.”

“You would never turn me on,” she howled.

“When will you stop lying to yourself?” I took her hand and shoved it down until it was inside of her cotton underwear, then pulled it out, her fingers gleaming with desire. I licked them, one by one, sucking it all in, her sweet, mild taste. She stared at my lips, entranced, then shuddered deeply. In disgust. In fear. In lust.

My mind raced. Her fear was thick on her skin, making her ripe, mixing with the hint of jasmine that still lingered. Her hair tangled in my fingers. I pressed the blade into her throat even more, but still not cutting her, and she whimpered. My cock throbbed:Ruin her already.

Not yet.

“You think you’re too good for everyone,” I whispered in her ear, “But make no mistake, Kora. You will never be good enough for anyone.” I bit her earlobe between my canines, and she flinched at the pain. “Not even me.”

I let go of her body, and she wavered, finding her balance. I headed toward the stairs, but stopped before I ascended.

“This mess will be gone by the time I get back,” I said in a low voice.

Then I went up the stairs and left her alone.

CHAPTER11

Kora

Each day,Vincent brought another tray of food and left it on the ground. I took the bottled water, but other than that, I refused. I had this feeling that he was telling the truth, that if he wanted to poison me, he would have done it already. And I knew he was more than willing to hurt me.

But that didn’t mean I trusted him.

Still, when he gave me a bag full of mismatched clothes: a pair of socks, a sweater, sweatpants, everything in shades of black and gray—I didn’t hesitate. The dirty nightgown stunk. I put on the sweater and some leggings, slightly too big for me. Then I washed my underwear with the plain bar soap at the sink, letting them air dry.