Page 18 of Outbreak (Revolution X #1)
CHAPTER 17
Rue
I ’m working on my third bag of gummy worms, my second energy drink, and feening for my vape that’s nowhere to be seen. My ‘hanger’ alone could take us both out at this point. I was only slightly kidding when I said I could crawl naked in there. The leash doesn’t even bother me at this point.
I’ll never tell him, but I kind of enjoy it. I know it’s certifiably insane, and whatever therapist gets the short end of the stick with me would probably lock me away and throw away the key. I’m aware of all of that, but… it makes me feel safe. The collar around my throat isn’t restrictive, but it makes me feel like I belong to someone—and cherished. I blame childhood abandonment, an ass-load of trauma, and deep-seated daddy issues.
These people are about to look at us like we are batshit crazy, but I don’t think I care. At least it’s spooky season, and masked men are currently making a comeback. A hot-as-fuck comeback. I don’t argue with him when he gets out of the truck and walks to my door. I don’t protest or remark when he clips the leash to the link on my collar. I stare directly into his green eyes that glint with something that feels a lot like desire as he holds eye contact with me.
He shuts the door once the leash is attached and tugs on it, pulling me one step closer, invading his space, and making my head swim. He’s too close. And smells too good. I’d almost let him turn me around and fuck me over the truck seat if I wasn’t so goddamn hungry. But I can also smell the delicious scents of grilled burgers and onions from the parking lot.
“Keep looking at me that way, and I’ll have an all you can eat buffet of your pussy right here in the parking lot for everyone to see.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re a big, scary masked man, I get it. Can we go inside now? I’m fucking starving.” I try to push past him to walk ahead, but he wraps my hair around his fist and brings his mouth to my ear.
“That mouth is going to get you in trouble. I think you’ll find it hard to eat through a muzzle.” I roll my eyes at his threat. He puts more force into his hold on my hair and cranes my neck back to look up at him. “Let’s set some ground rules. No talking to strangers. No signaling for help. I have no problem killing every?—”
“I said I get it; are you dumb?” I snap. “Just fucking feed me, asshole. I’ll be the best little captive you’ve ever taken to lunch on a leash.”
I swear to God I’m going to kick him in the balls if he doesn't stop talking. I didn’t even give him lip about his ‘stranger’ comment, and that should be enough to show him I’m trying here.
“Well, let’s go then,” he says after releasing my hair and smoothing it down. He places his hand on the small of my back and guides me to the door. I try to focus on the red neon rope lights outlining the glass windows and the retro red and white vinyl booths that sit on black and white checkered floors, all to help me ignore the heat of his hand searing into my skin through my thin tank top.
There aren’t many people in here as I take a quick survey of the space, and I’m thankful he nudges me into the first booth right inside the door. He slides in next to me. I try to keep my eyes lowered, avoiding any judgy stares from other patrons eating their lunch, but it doesn’t look like anyone has noticed a masked man walking a girl in on a leash yet. However, it doesn’t take long for a young, pretty girl to shuffle over to our table, her eyes trained on the notepad in her hand. She can’t be more than nineteen at most.
“What can I get y’all started with to—” She pauses, then flips her blonde ponytail over her shoulder and pops her hip out. “I’m sorry. What can I get for you, sir? ”
The southern sultry twang she suddenly has now has me seeing red. Someone’s clearly been watching too many thirst traps on the internet! Bitch can’t even see me sitting here, attached to this motherfucker's leash!? “ I’ll have a lemonade,” I snap, peeling the menu off the sticky tabletop and ignoring her and addressing Mr. Thirst Trap himself. “What would you like, sir ?”
I can feel his eyes boring into the side of my face, never once even looking in her direction as he addresses her. “I’ll have the same as my girl.”
My girl?
Why the fuck do those words send a horde of butterflies straight into my stomach?
Neither of us look at her as she lingers for a moment, clearly not used to the dismissal she just got before she shuffles to the back. I scan the menu, not really taking in or caring what they have to offer here with the jealousy coming out of nowhere and taking up residence in my gut. I have no reason to be jealous. I don’t even know him. He kidnapped me. Why the fuck does it matter if some blonde bitch flirts with him? It doesn’t make me want to stab her in the fucking eye any less.
“Green looks good on you,” he leans in and whispers. Maybe I’ll stab him in the eye too. Fix both problems at the same time.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.
“You don’t have to be jealous,” he says before unsticking his own menu from the table and finally freeing me of his intense gaze.
I want to ask why, but that would be saying that he’s right and that’s not fucking happening. I’d rather stick rusty nails in my eyeballs than admit that. So I ignore him, scanning the menu again and trying to choose something. I’m so hungry, I’m tempted to order one of everything.
When the waitress comes back around with our drinks, she makes a point to stick her tits that have now been pushed up right in Ghost’s face when she leans over to put my drink down. I bite my tongue and try to remind myself it doesn’t matter.
He’s not mine.
“Do you know what you want?” She asks Ghost, the double meaning of her question glaringly obvious. I can feel his eyes on me again when he speaks.
“Oh, I know exactly what I want. But ladies first. What would you like, baby girl?” He leans back, stretching his arm behind me on the booth and twirling a strand of my hair around his finger at my shoulder.
A smirk slides over my face as I pick the menu back up. The saccharine in my voice could sweeten the whole place. “Let’s see. I want a double cheeseburger, extra pickles. Give me your Texas cheese fries with ranch. Oh, and a black and white milkshake, extra Oreos. Two straws.” I sit the menu down with grace and lean into him as I raise my eyes and bat my lashes at the waitress. She looks like someone just stole her favorite shade of lipstick.
“Make that two. Minus the shake. We’ll share,” he says before she can open her mouth and let something stupid come out. I’m already reaching for my daggers that are no longer strapped to my thighs. It’s probably a good thing he took them away because if she keeps glaring at me like that, I’d likely stab her. She actually looks offended that someone like him isn’t into her.
Delusional cunt .
Finally, she scoffs and walks away, and we both snicker at her. It feels almost normal right now. Even with the collar and leash tethering me to this masked stranger, it feels oddly familiar and natural. I don’t know how to process that, so instead, I look around the diner.
In the corner there’s an old jukebox playing a country song.
There’s some old men sipping coffee and shooting the shit at the bar.
A couple of teenagers in the corner booth, too focused on their phones to notice anything around them.
And an older waitress behind the bar. She’s absentmindedly wiping down the counter while shooting judgy looks of disgust our way. I promised to be on my best behavior, so I’m trying not to make a scene. Even if these people make me feel a little stabby, I don’t want Ghost to kill anyone. And honestly, I believe him when he says he will. He has an air of danger that surrounds him, even if it doesn’t scare me. I don’t think he would direct that energy towards me. But I also don’t want to be the cause of anyone else's death.
As an empath, death drains me. In the back of my mind, I wonder why I didn’t feel it from the man from the road, but I guess if he really was dead, his second death didn’t count? I have no idea. I’ve never witnessed the death of a dead person, so I’m just playing this by ear.
“You know, if you glare any harder at that little old lady, her head might explode,” Ghost says, still playing with my hair and sitting too close.
I can feel the heat sliding up my cheeks when I dart my eyes to meet his for a second before I quickly look away. He makes me feel like a blushing schoolgirl with a silly crush. Which is utterly ridiculous. The only thing he should have me feel is rage. Or disgust. So why do I find myself shying away from him like a fucking simp? “I’m not glaring. Just looking. She’s the one glaring.”
“Well, maybe we should give her a reason to glare.” His voice dipping low and making the butterflies take flight again.
“Like the mask and leash aren’t enough?” I feel breathless when I meet his eyes again. The green depths swirl with desire. I have no idea what he has in mind, but I have no doubt it’s filthy. I almost ask him what he has in mind, but luckily, the cunty waitress stomps over, sitting the tray down so hard my perfect milkshake almost tips over, breaking the connection before I can agree to something really fucking stupid.
She doesn’t speak as she aggressively unloads her tray, placing our food in front of us. She sits the shake in front of me, giving me a dirty look before spinning on her heel and stomping off, her dirty white sneakers squeaking on the checkered floor.
Now that I have my food, I couldn’t care less about anything she has to say anyway. I don’t waste a single second before I manhandle the massive burger and inhale a quarter of it in one bite. Juices and sauces drip down my chin in the most unlady-like way, but I stuff my face with another bite. A moan slips out as I finally taste the perfection in my mouth, the cheese and grilled goodness exploding on my tongue.
It’s then that I realize Ghost hasn’t moved to eat. When I turn my head and lift my eyes to his face, he’s staring at me, tightening his hand in my hair.
“What?” I ask, my mouth still full and trying to chew as quickly as I can.
He doesn't say a word as he pushes the mask up over his mouth and leans into me, licking the mess from my lips and chin. My eyes widen as his warm tongue laps at my skin, heat spreading over my entire body and settling right between my thighs. And if I wasn’t already sitting in a puddle, he growls, “Delicious. Best burger I’ve ever had.”
A gasp coming from behind the counter bursts our little bubble, and when I look, the old hag is actually clutching the dishrag to her chest and looking at us like she just caught us fucking on the tabletop. Our waitress is right behind her, a nasty scowl twisting her face.
“Ignore them. Keep eating,” Ghost says, finally turning in his seat and picking up his burger. He is more well-mannered than me, using his napkin to wipe his mouth. I have the overwhelming desire to climb into his lap and give him the same treatment he gave me, but I force that shit down, turning back to my own meal and trying to ignore the ache throbbing through me. The ooey-gooey cheese fries slathered in ranch is a good distraction.
We eat the rest of our food in restless silence, and when the waitress comes back around, Ghost coldly asks for my shake to go and the check. Honestly, I’m just ready to be in the safety of the truck and away from everyone else. I don’t like people on a normal day, much less in this situation. When he’s done paying the bill, he practically snatches my shake and straws from the girl.
He finally looks at her for the first time since we walked in, and disdain drips from his tone as he pulls his mask back down over his mouth, tossing one of the straws back at her. “We only need one straw after all.”