Page 17 of Descent
“Damn right, they would have. We would’ve grown closer, if he’d just left us alone. You would have never gotten distracted by Lucas, or Rafe’s release from prison. I could have made you happy, Lex.”
A shiver went through me. Lucas Perrone would have found another way to enact revenge for Rafe killing his brother on the inside. Besides, I’d go through the horror in those tunnels a thousand times if it led to the day Rafe and I said “I do.”
I wanted it back—the utter joy and contentedness that getting to that place with him brought me. I wanted Rafe back.
“Admit it,” Zach persisted. “We would have had a chance without Dad’s meddling.”
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance, hiding the bitter anger coiling inside me. Pointing out how crazy he was wouldn’t get him to see the truth—the insane didn’t recognize their own crazy. “Maybe you’re right, but it’s too late to go back. So where does that leave us now?” I studied him closely, watching for any signs of suspicion.
Was he figuring out my angle yet? Or would he turn a blind eye to the lie, only seeing what he wanted to? Just like the scars marring my arms.
“We have the chance at a fresh start, Lex. As soon as you unlearn all of your bad behaviors, all the shit Dad put into your head, you and I will be able to start over.”
He had no idea, no fucking clue how crazy he was. He believed his fantasy of Happily Ever After. But I’d believed in it, too. I thought I’d finally found it with Rafe, only to have it ripped away the very next morning.
Sometime during my twenty-four-years on this earth, I’d heard the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome.
Maybe we were both crazy.
9. No Ecstacy
Alex
After dinner, I felt Zach’s gaze on my naked backside. His undivided attention burned my skin from where he still sat at the eat-in nook. I reached for the skillet and squeezed the sponge over the cast-iron until suds foamed in the bottom.
The wheels in my mind turned with ideas. With hope.
Almost in a trance, I followed the motion of my hand as it scrubbed the pan in unhurried design. In my mind’s eye, I hefted the skillet, whirled around, and brought it down on Zach’s skull. The vision was so real I could actually hear it—the resulting crack blasting through my head, echoing with satisfaction.
Swallowing my nervousness, I finished rinsing and drying the pan, but when I turned around, I found Zach standing behind me, just a few inches away. I froze, gripping the handle as I eyed his height. There was no way I’d be able to whack him over the head from this vantage point.
“Let me,” he said, reaching for the skillet. I gave him the pan, and a sense of loss hit me as he hung it on the rack above the butcher block. Those pans were within reach, but just barely. I’d have to stand on my tiptoes to unhook one, then hope like hell I’d use enough strength to whack him over the head so he’d go down the first time.
Because I wouldn’t get a second chance.
“Lex,” he said, voice going husky as he closed the inches between us. “I’m in the mood for dessert.”
I feared what he wanted didn’t involve bakeware. “I can make something…if you want.”
His fingers clamped around my bicep, confirming my suspicion. “I want you.” He ushered me out of the kitchen, and I stumbled along behind him, heartbeat accelerating as he stalled in the living room. He pointed to the floorboards in front of the sofa. “Knees.”
When I didn’t immediately bow to his order, he ground his molars, and the look in his cold hazel eyes was enough to make me bend. I lowered to my knees as he reached for the button of his jeans. Exposing his hard-on, he shuffled forward, fisting his cock, and then his flesh pushed between my lips.
As I watched the dazed expression on his face—a cocktail of lust and madness while he thrusted in and out of my mouth—a new kind of terror held me in its grip. The kind of terror that made breathing impossible, because the life he had in mind for me was no longer a nebulous nightmare. It crystalized, and my new reality became as real as the warm flesh pounding between my tonsils.
He would keep me locked away forever—like a prized classic car—only taking me out when he wanted to use me. I’d never see other people, never have any type of freedom again. I would fail to exist.
There would only be Zach and his cock to live for.
And what happened when I started showing? Would he force an abortion? Possibly even cause one himself? I shuddered at the thought.
