Page 23 of Drag You Down (Bloody Desires #2)

I think back to all the mornings I’d had to read the bible, to all the times the ruler came down on my hand for quoting the scripture wrong.

I remember thinking how funny it would be if I broke the ruler over their hands, and how I’d make them quote scripture while I cut them open.

“I understand more than enough,” I say hoarsely. “I understand that bad people will say anything to justify their actions.”

The honking gets even louder, and somebody yells, “If you don’t move your fucking car, I will ram it over the side of the bridge, motherfucker!”

I ignore the commotion. “No man can claim to be a prophet, Levi.” I raise his hand to kiss the knuckles. He shudders. “Come back with me. It’s impossible to think here.”

He nibbles on his bottom lip, and his eyes are wary as they take me in. “No,” he says. “He’s not a bad man. He doesn’t go around murdering people.”

I reach out and place my hand on Levi’s hip. “But he whips you bloody. He locks you in a basement.” I lean in closer. “What did you see in the dark, Levi?”

Levi jerks back, away from me, and for the first time, I see anger in his eyes.

“You don’t understand. It’s penance . You don’t have faith.

You don’t understand that sometimes you need to be punished for what you’ve done.

” He meets my eyes. “You punish other people for what you even think they’ve done all the time, don’t you? ”

I carve them up; I make them beg for release.

I make sure they can’t ever touch the innocent lambs of this world ever again.

And I drink in the scent of their foul blood, and feel the glee and arousal fill me.

I’m not one of the good people of this world.

I shouldn’t even be touching Levi.

But he’s mine, and I won’t let him go back to Zachariah Carpenter.

“We can debate philosophy at home,” I say, grabbing Levi’s wrist. “Ichabod will meow in agreement while I make breakfast for you. You must be starving.”

Levi pulls back more insistently. “I’m not. I just want to get home.”

Home is with me.

Home isn’t with someone who harms him.

“I’ll take you,” I lie with a smile. “Let’s get to my car?—”

I freeze when I realize somebody is approaching us. I pull Levi against my chest—he gasps and tries to push away—and make sure to keep myself angled toward the newcomer.

He’s wearing an NBPD uniform and a deep scowl.

“Sir, is this your vehicle?” he asks, pointing to my black luxury sedan.

“Yes,” I answer. “I’ll be on my way now.” I relax my hold on Levi. “Let’s go, little lamb.”

Levi takes the opportunity to break free from my grasp, and before I can stop him, he bolts past the cop and through the crowd.

“Levi!” I shout, rushing to follow.

But the cop gets in my way, deep scowl creasing his thick brows. “You’ve been blocking traffic for the past fifteen minutes. That’s not just a traffic citation. You have to come down to the station with me.”

I glare at him. “Because of traffic? You’ll cause an even longer traffic jam if my car sits there.”

The cop scoffs loudly. “You rich bastards think the rules don’t apply to you. License and registration, right now.”

Levi is getting away though. Levi will somehow return to Zachariah Carpenter, and he’ll be tortured and broken, and I can’t let that happen.

My hand goes down to my jeans pocket, where I’ve got a small pocketknife.

I could easily stab the cop and carve him up and throw his body into the river below. He’ll show up again bloated and fed on, face near unrecognizable.

Except for all the witnesses around us. I see some people with their cameras out, ready to film.

I grit my teeth. “Fine.” I walk over to my car and pull out the registration from the glove compartment. I hand both it and my driver’s license to the cop, my nose flaring while the cop looks over both of them.

“Gabriel Abrams,” the cop reads. “What do you do, Gabe?”

“I work in finance,” I say carefully. “And who are you? I want to see your badge number.”

That sets the cop on edge. That’s fine. I don’t care if he hates me.

“Officer Pete O’Connor.” He holds up his badge, too fast for me to make out a number. I guess that means he doesn’t particularly want to be held accountable for his actions either.

“I’ll drive down to the station and pay the fine this afternoon.” What are a few hundred or thousand dollars to me?

Officer O’Connor narrows his eyes at me. “No. Up against the car, hands behind your back.”

I’d be surprised, but I know what the cops in New Bristol are like.

The only truly shocking thing is that he’d go after me . I’m not the usual kind of person the cops like to harass.

I try to look past the crowd to see where Levi disappeared to, but he’s well and truly out of my sight.

Growing impatient with me, O’Connor grabs me and slams my body against my car. He yanks my arms back and snaps handcuffs around my wrists. “I fucking told you what to do, you little?—”

I tune out his words and breathe deeply to remain calm.

O’Connor can enjoy his petty revenge against me for now. Even the kick he levels at my knees doesn’t faze me.

After all, I’m going to do worse for him for coming between me and my lamb.

Not today, not tomorrow.

But sometime when he least expects it, I’m going to give him his worst nightmare.

I smile as he forces me into the back of his patrol car.

Maybe I can show Levi the insides of O’Connor’s body and let Levi taste his blood.

He’d like that.