Page 5 of Missing Piece (Neon Scars #2)

“You broke her neck,” Adam said, attempting to push himself back just a few inches. The chain clinked against the bedframe, reminding him of his limited range.

“Mmm, yeah, I did, but she’ll be fine as long as she gets her bearings before sunrise,” Vincent said. He yanked on the chain, pulling Adam closer until he had no choice but to sit at the edge of the bed. “I didn’t say you could move.”

“Screw you,” Adam spat. He grabbed the cuff, trying to slip his fingers beneath it.

There was barely enough space to get his fingertips under the metal.

He shoved it down as hard as he could, the steel scraping down the flesh on the back of his ankle.

He winced and slammed his fist down onto the mattress. “Unlock this thing!”

“Why would I do that?” Vincent frowned.

Adam leaned forward and shoved Vincent. He didn’t budge.

“Don’t you want to ask me what’s going on?” Vincent planted both hands on Adam’s shoulders.

The grip was incredibly soft but rough, each fingertip pressing into his skin hard enough to leave bruises.

Adam grimaced, refusing to look away from his blue and black eyes.

Of course, he wanted to know what this guy’s deal was, but he was more concerned about his ankle trapped in the metal cuff.

He could worry about this guy’s supernatural freakshow later.

But cosplay didn’t explain how he moved so fast. Or the thing with his nose.

His face looked normal just a moment prior.

Adam had no illusions that he was insanely strong, but he knew the feeling of someone’s nose breaking under his fist. Aside from the blood still smeared on Vincent’s face, his nose gave no indication it had taken a blow.

The ketamine was wearing off enough for him to think clearly, and this was definitely real.

Don’t be ridiculous. Just play along and get out of here.

Adam gritted his teeth. “Fine, what’s going on here? Why am I chained to this bed?” he asked, glancing towards the door.

“No one is coming to help you, so don’t bother looking at the door,” Vincent said with a smile, tugging the chain until Adam had no choice but to sit at the very edge of the bed.

Vincent cocked his head. “You know, at first glance, there is nothing special about you, but the more I look at you, the more I like this face.”

Adam jerked back as Vincent reached out to stroke his cheek and slapped his hand down. “Don’t touch me, you creep,” he snapped. “What are we doing here? What do you want? Money? Because I don’t have anything, so if you’re looking for a payday, go kidnap someone else.”

His stomach twisted itself into another series of knots as Vincent’s gaze roamed his body. Normally he’d at least appreciate someone checking him out, but that stare was too much. Too strange. And he didn’t have his prosthetic on.

“Kidnap? Is that what you think this is?” Vincent stroked the bridge of his nose before running his thumb along his bloody fingers.

His expression looked distant for a second, as though he were unsure of the answer before he took in a sharp breath and focused on Adam again.

“No, this is not a kidnapping. This is a trial, pet .”

“Wha—” Adam began. Vincent’s fist connected with his gut, sucking all the air from his body in an instant.

His hands went to his stomach, his mouth agape as he tried to convince his lungs to fill with air.

Those soft, strong hands dug into his shoulders again and shoved him flat against the bed.

He stared up at the ceiling, his chest spasming as he finally pulled in a breath, a heavy weight pressing into his hips.

Vincent straddled him and leaned over to meet Adam’s stare. The distant appearance had returned, an empty smirk plastered to his face. “Three times,” Vincent said softly, running the back of his hand along Adam’s cheek. “That was one.”

“W-what?” Adam gasped, trying to convince the rest of his body to cooperate and shove Vincent off him. The lingering ketamine made his limbs feel like they were moving through syrup.

“I told you that you got one freebie,” Vincent said, pointing to his nose. “I like to think I’m a fair beast. You put your hands on me three times after that. It’s only fair I return in kind.”

Without another word, Vincent curled his fist and punched Adam in the left side of his face.

The impact reverberated through his already aching skull, his jaw clicking and his teeth biting down on the inside of his cheek.

He kept his vision shut, terrified that if he opened them they would be filled with tears.

He couldn’t show that he was hurt. That he was afraid. Not to this guy.

Not to anyone.

“Two.”

“God damn it,” Adam groaned. “Let…go.”

“I don’t think so. I’m already having so much fun,” Vincent said. There was something hollow about how he said that, his tone frighteningly flat like when Adam would say how happy he was to be sober. Vincent cupped Adam’s face, gently at first before tightening his grip.

“What do you want from me?” Adam asked through his teeth as he forced his vision open to look at Vincent.

It looked like his sclera were getting darker.

Blacker. He finally let himself recognize the pang of fear that had been knocking at the door of his consciousness, his anger parting enough to let it worm its way through.

He had met a lot of messed up people. Dealers. Addicts. Addicted dealers. Prostitutes and pimps and every low life out there looking for a thrill. But he had never met anyone who made his skin want to crawl off his body and find a place to hide without the rest of him.

“Only two things, but we can discuss that later.” He leaned forward, the tip of his miraculously unbroken nose brushing against Adam’s. “We need to work out number three.”

Adam tried to shake his head against Vincent’s vice grip on his face. “Two is enough,” he gasped.

“Tsk, tsk pet, I don’t think that sends the right message. Now, what to do? What to do?” Vincent leaned in a little closer until his lips pressed to Adam’s cheek.

Adam winced, waiting for Vincent to do something more pervy.

When his lips lingered, he didn’t know what to make of the gesture.

He was certain Vincent was going to hit him again or try to touch his dick.

At least if things went the dick-touching route, he could roll with it.

He hadn’t had to use sex to get out of a precarious situation in a few years, but he wasn’t opposed to it.

Anything to get out of this place.

Vincent’s lips traveled down his face, settling against his neck. “You’re sweating whiskey,” he mused.

Adam couldn’t contain his shudder. Vincent’s lips were cool.

Unnaturally cool. Even his breath. He didn’t notice it before with his skin still hot and tingling from the drug he wasn’t entirely sure he took willingly.

Was this guy planning the whole thing all along?

Find some poor drunk at his club to drug and drag back to his place?

God damn, Adam, you unlucky bastard. This never would have happened if he weren’t with that worthless sponsor. “D-Do you wanna have sex?” Adam asked, fisting the sheets beneath him.

Damn it. He really didn’t want to—not with his body feeling wrong and his head pounding, and it had been over a year since he’d been with anyone like that. But if it increased the odds that Vincent would let him go…

“What?” Vincent asked against his neck, an edge of surprise in his voice.

“You want to have sex, right? That’s why I’m here? Let’s do it,” Adam said, squeezing the sheets tighter. Just roll with it. Convince him. “I let you do whatever you want, then I get to go home. Deal?”

Vincent’s face came into view, his sclera were normal again. Not a trace of blackness left in the whites. How did he do that so fast? “You’re just offering your ass like it’s a trade-in for a used car?” Vincent’s face twisted into a frown.

“Yes?” Adam wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He was expecting either an enthusiastic yes or a harsh no.

Vincent’s brow furrowed, something resembling confusion forming faintly on his face as he gently brushed Adam’s bangs away from his forehead while continuing to grip his face with one hand.

“What?” Adam asked through clenched teeth.

He tried to move his head, but the grip on his face tightened, just enough to let him know he shouldn’t attempt that again.

He desperately wanted to get Vincent off him.

He could use a long scrub in a hot shower, but at this point, a large street puddle would do.

Anything to get the feeling of this guy’s hands off him.

Vincent said nothing, just continued to stare at Adam with that distant look as his sclera began to change again, the black color spreading across the whites like food coloring dropped into a glass of water.

Adam was entranced by it until he realized Vincent had moved, leaving him staring up at the ceiling light again as those cool lips brushed against his neck again.

He might not be human. He tensed at the sharp pain in his neck, but the pain seemed far away…

dulled and delayed from his mind somehow.

Adam tried to open his mouth to ask what was happening, but Vincent clamped a hand over his mouth.

Adam tried to move his head, but the pressure on his face was too much. He reached up with both hands, fisting Vincent’s hair and yanking hard. He could feel the lips on his neck, a cool tongue lapping at his skin, and burning. A strange, sharp, awful burning sensation pulled beneath his skin.

His eyelids grew heavier. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep here.

He tried pulling at Vincent’s hair again, but it was no use.

His grip on the blond was failing, his arms heavy and weak at the same time.

A strange heat shot down his body from the burning pain in his neck, seeming to settle in his groin and thighs before shooting up to his face.

His lips and skin on fire as heat poured off him, beading on his skin as droplets of sweat.

Open. Don’t sleep here. Open, he told himself as his eyelids fluttered shut.

His whole body grew slack, refusing to cooperate with him.

Adam heard himself moan into Vincent’s hand, a weird tingling sensation from where Vincent’s body leaned against his sending little shocks of pleasure directly to his brain.

In any other situation, he would have wondered why he reacted that way, but it was too late. He was drifting away again into the darkness.