Page 55 of Satan's Naughty List
“Yes, I want to,” she interrupts Nomad. “Please let me.” We all swallow heavily, almost in unison.
He nods, glancing up at me. I give him an affirmative nod. We help her sit up higher, careful not to jostle her leg around. The pillows are adjusted under her once again.
“You two have been…substantial in helping me get better.” Nomad wants to say something, but he thankfully stays quiet. “If it weren’t for you when I was kidnapped…I don’t know if I would have survived. With nothing to look forward to, the darkness nearly consumed me in its entirety.”
“That’s very poetic, sweetheart.” Nomad’s grin is full of teeth, and it fully meets his eyes as he surges love toward the woman beneath us.
“Oh hush,” she retorts, swatting him playfully. Catching the hand, he smoothly brings it to his mouth and kisses her knuckles. A deep red blush creeps along her skin, so bright that the pale moon finds it in the dark.
“Before you both, the dark consumed me. My heart was so cold, iced out and black as coal. There was no room for love or affection as it was at full capacity simply trying to carry on. Living another day was like reliving your worst nightmares, constantly being surrounded by those who wish you unwell. My life was as uneven as a continuous earthquake. I was forced to stumble around, until finally…you found me. There was an opening, and I knew if I didn’t run, I’d die. So, I took it. And you found me.”
Tears prick my eyes at her words. While they’re dramatized, she’s not exactly wrong. I’ve not experienced the level of trauma she has, but we’ve both seen darkness. All of us have.
Glancing at Nomad, he reflects how we all feel too.
“You’re one of the strongest women I know,” he mutters, leaning down to kiss her softly.
“I think I’m ready to talk about it…” she whispers, flicking between us. While we know bits and pieces, we’ve not gotten the whole story.
“Again, you don’t have to…” she grasps the back of my head and pulls me to join their kiss.
“I want to.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
AGE SIXTEEN
Giggling, Cynthia opens the top to her convertible, letting our hair fly in the breeze. Mom and dad didn’t have money to get my own car, but that’s alright. My best friend, Cynthia, prefers to drive us everywhere anyway.
“Whoooo!” I scream, arms flailing above my head as we cruise through downtown. Old people look our way, we’re practically unstoppable.
“Girl, can you believe we’re going to be seniors in a few months?” She shrieks, happily driving us toward my place. Dad asked for me to be home by seven today, which is super early, but since I’m rarely home, it’s fine.
“I literally can’t!” I laugh, my cheeks hurt from the amount of smiling. Graduation is tonight, and we’ll be free for the rest of the summer before we start back up again. She got a summer job in Texas working for her family. It’s more like an internship, but it’ll look great on her resume! I tried to get my parents to let me go. They said they wanted me closer to home. Sad as it is, and the missed opportunity for amazing career building, I can get a job around here. I haven’t looked yet, but I’ll start searching next week.
She swings the car around the corner, music blasting through the radio as the wind muses up our hair. Clasping hands, we slow outside my house. There’s a black SUV sitting outside, which isn’t uncommon. Dad has associates around a lot to talk business. It’s boring, and I’m usually dismissed to my room.
Leaning over, I give her a squeezing hug. I won’t see her all fucking summer! Life is so unfair sometimes.
“Stay safe this summer, yeah?” I mumble, tightening just a smidge. She returns the embrace, tears leaking down her cheeks.
“Fuck off! You know I will, little Miss Virgin,” she teases. She shoves my shoulder and dabs her eyes. “Now get out of my car before I start crying my ass off.” Laughing, I grab my bag and clamber out.
“Love you girl.” With a quick blow-kiss, I head up the drive. There’s someone sitting in the driver’s seat as I walk by, his eyes narrowed and sour. I scowl back at him, flipping my hair over my shoulder.
Creepy fucking men.
Tiptoeing into the main living space, there’s a shuffle and a sharp smack that causes a muffled cry. I peek my head around the corner only to find my mom and dad tied back to back in their chairs. I can’t see my mother, I can only see her bleached blonde hair from behind. My father on the other hand, has something shoved in his mouth and strapped in place with a rope. It’s like a make-shift gag.
Keeping my tone down, I do my best to stay silent. Hopefully the weird dude in the car doesn’t tell them I came in.
I back around the corner and turn on my heel, only to run right into a man built like a fucking wall. He’s wearing black on black, his suit pristinely pressed to perfection. Snapping his hand out, he grips my upper arm tightly. Too tightly.
“Let go, fucker,” I hiss, trying to pull out of his grip. Unfortunately, it’s like a fucking vice around my arm.
“Shut up,” he grunts, his other hand swinging out and effectively silencing me with a slap. Something on my face, I’m not entirely sure what, makes a popping noise. Liquid trickles down my chin. It doesn’t take a fucking doctor to know it’s blood.
His fist clenches even tighter, no doubt leaving a bruise in its wake, hauling me to the drawing room where my parents are strapped together.
