Chapter Twenty-Five: Boot-Licker!
1073 Words
I couldn't. My finger twitched, my heart slamming against my ribs like a bird trying to escape a cage. One eye closed, the other focused on the handsome face. His eyes shone so brightly they cut into me when he focused on me. They were the opposite of Nico's which were so dark it was like staring into an abyss; so easy to fall into. The man's smile was so boyish it chilled me, how he must've looked at this, me, on the ground, bleeding out and terrified, like a game. He wouldn't stop me, I knew it. I could kill him, right here, all it took was one simple pull of the trigger. There was nothing he could do, no trick moves or secret ways out. If I chose to, it was over. No more fear for my pack. No more being told I couldn't go into my own house, my own bakery. Happily ever after with one pull of the trigger.
And he knew I couldn't do it.
The man let out a big laugh, his lips parting into a big, nasty smile of perfectly white sharp teeth. "I couldn't believe it when I saw it."
He stepped toward me, the gun shaking in my hands as I kept aim. "Make another move, and I shoot! I mean it, that was just a warning before."
He made more than one move. He reached forward and snatches the gun out of my hands, and I was shocked that the sudden movement pulls me forward, my fingers latched on like I'm holding on for dear f*****g life. But that's not enough; I'm too weak from what's happened earlier today, too tired, missing too much goddamn blood. So I falter, stumble, collapse at his feet while he clutches my gun with a big spreading grin.
I can't describe the body feeling of staring your own doom in the face. Spreading sickness might be one way, racing pangs and itchy feelings in my hands and feet. The tightening knot in my stomach. "You must be Seth," I said, because I needed to put it out in the air. I needed to know if the man with the flowery letters was the same as the laughing young man in front of me.
He rubbed the barrel of the rifle in his pale palms. "What would make you think that?" he asked, his head c****d. He knelt down, my precious gun squeezed like vice in his hands. "Is it because I'm better than you in every way?"
I pressed my hand hard against the wound, but the bleeding wouldn't stop. I could die there. A lightness had all ready crept into my head, it felt like I hadn't eaten in days. It felt like I was going to die. I was going to die. Panic errupted in me. This isn't the end I wanted; my bakery wasn't open yet, I hadn't even turned 24 yet. In front of a man who thought I was nothing. What was I going to do? "Shut up." No, I was going to go out with dignity--I know, I know, a very new phenomena for me. I squinted up at him, let my eyes get all big like I did sometimes with bigger men when they wanted me to look all soft and innocent. "H-help me," I begged.
Seth was so close I could feel his hot breath fan across the bridge of my nose. "You took my mate. You. An abomination like you. I should let you die and watch with satisifction." His phrasing was off; despite how young he looked and the sneering way he held himself, he spoke with an old-style flourish, much like Nico. To be near someone so cold sent shivers up and down my spine. This was it for me, the crack of light that I had let into my head about, hey, maybe it won't be so bad, hey, he might, let you go, suddenly shut off.
"Help me," I repeated.
"Yeah?" he said, tossing my Ruger aside. I winced at the clatter it made as it hit the ground. My baby. My dad gave it to me as my first gun. expecting me to get something bigger, more powerful. But I never did. "You want that?" He grabbed my hair, yanked it so hard I yelped; it felt like he was going to rip the scalp off my skull. "Why don't you do the only thing your pack is good for and lick my boots, huh?"
My eyes flickered instinctively to his shoes. They were nice combat boots, probably at least a couple hundred bucks. Well taken care of, too; they had the clean waxy smell of polish on them despite the mud and grit splattered on the lace eyelets. I looked down at them and back at him, a strange sort of heat billowing up into my chest. I had no dignity, you know that, I know that. If it meant escaping to live another day...was I being stupid?
"No," I said, my voice trembling. "No, f**k off."
He tilted his head again and took a long breath, his mouth cracked open. My eyes settled on his lips, something for me to stare at while my brain scrambled to think of a way out. They looked strangely soft on such a hardened face. "You have Nico's scent all over you. You think I can't guess what you're good for--if you are good for something? Make yourself of some kind of service, alpha." A little musical laugh trickled out of his mouth. His warm lips touched my ear. "You wouldn't something to happen to your precious bakery, would you?"
I did it.
My life is one thing, and it's stupid, because what's the point of caring about a dream you're probably not going to live to see? f**k if I know, but now that Dad's dead and my pack sucks, it's all I have left. So I did it. Every square centimenter of his f*****g disgusting boots while he watched, his eyes half-lidded and a big, s**t-eating grin crawling over his face. He still had my hair clutched in his fist; I could barely move my head to spit the caked remnants of mud and brambles out of my mouth.
And when I finished, that grin was so wide I felt sick inside. "I'll have Nico soon, but for now, you're mine."
- Writer
