Page 71 of Wicked Vile King
She's been AWOL for two godforsaken days.
Two. Days.
And forty-eight hours without my pet has me fantasizing about all the ways I'm going to kill her when I finally see her again. That is if her roommate hasn't murdered her already. She better not have. I thought Little Miss Pixie Cut was going to die when I caught her in the hallway Saturday morning and demanded to know where my pet was.
Sick, my ass.
Everyone knows the bleeding heart of a nurse is in on it, always letting the newcomers get one free pass and ruining my fucking fun. But I control myself. I repress, and a half hour later, when Kill and I are finally in the dining hall, I stab at my plate, the silicone utensil doing fuck all to help feed myself.
Not that I want to eat anyway.
Not that it matters.
Not that I'm hungry.
I only crave one thing, and she'sstill not fucking hereto satiate it.
FUCK!!!
I stand at the table, leaving my tray, and grab my backpack from the floor. I sling it over my shoulder and head toward class, even though it's still way early. I think of all the ways I'm going to punish her when she finally shows.
Maybe I'll lock her in a dark closet and listen as she loses her mind.
How boring.
Instead, maybe I'll strap her down to one of Butcher's tables and open those old wounds again.
Not unless I want her to disassociate and go full-blown catatonic.
I could make her watch as I fuck Isla again.
Ugh, also no.
Been there, done that, and I ain't about to go back for whatever they call the thing after sloppy seconds. Tiresome thirds, perhaps?
Nah, I think I'll fuck her this time instead.
My pet's got sheltered virgin written all over her face, the perfect southern princess who had her virtue protected by daddy's money and the threat of castration back home. Too bad she's not back home anymore, and I don't give a shit about her privileged life or her daddy.
Hell, she could barely even look at me while I screwed the librarian.
She had that classic virgin expression, one part turned on, one part disgusted, and the rest looking like she was going to die from embarrassment.
Yeah, I'll do us both a favor and get rid of it now. Then we can get to the actual fun stuff.
Kismet must favor me today as I look up and spot my lost little lamb walking into our first class of the day. She sees me coming but doesn't meet my gaze. Instead, she looks down at the floor, repentant, and takes a seat at the back of the room. I sit at the one beside her and lock an ankle around her desk and pull her toward me. The desk screeches angrily against the floor as the asshole who calls himself a teacher arrives. From the front of the room, he looks back at us and frowns, but says nothing. He's probably remembering freshman year when I tried to gouge his eye out with the laser pointer he used to favor.
I gotthisclose too, but then the guards arrived, and that was the first time I met Dr. Boucher. An unpleasant price to pay, but by the looks of it, a useful one, because this asshole remembers just how close he got to earning an eye patch and looking like a damned pirate.
My pet shakes at my side, but I steady her with a hand on her knee. Or I try to, at least, but she's still shivering in her seat three hours later, when the dismissal bell rings. She moves to stand, and I yank her back to the desk by the back of her collar.
"Where are you going, pet?" I ask her, hooking my index finger around the middle ring at the front and forcing her to look at me. "The pool is open again after St. Crowe's unfortunate almost drowning event."
She says nothing as I stand, bringing her with me by the collar around her throat. I release her to wrap an arm around her shoulders and steer her down the hall. Physical education is back in session after a near-drowning event a few weeks ago, and I don't intend on missing class. It's my favorite one after all, where I can see the sun and work out until I puke and all the bad urges quiet for a moment.
We head outside, and I lead her to the northeast end of the grounds. It's nice out here today, dead leaves and damp air turning dry and cold with the coming winter. Dying fog lingers on the ground on the outskirts of campus, and everything is colored a mossy green or a dead brown, before I steer her away from the guards and the rest of our classmates, headed to the pool, and pin her to the nearest stone wall.
Her back knocks against the hard rock and her lips part with a muffledoomph.
