Stop it.
I had to stop these crazy thoughts. Going crazy wouldn’t get me out of here. I needed to keep my wits about me, needed to figure out a plan. An image of my mother and Talia flashed behind my closed eyelids, so vivid as if they were right before me. Happiness and deep sadness overcame me at the image. Would this memory be the only thing left of them? Would I ever see them again?
Tears welled in my eyes and I didn’t stop them, let them squeeze past my lids and trail down my cheeks. It felt good, a relief after pretending to be strong. I wasn’t, not really, but maybe I could learn. My family, what was left of it, I could be strong for them. If not for me, at least for them, I could gather what little courage I possessed and fight against Growl. Again. And again, until one day, perhaps I’d escape my prison.
Growl
He hated feeling. Hated the sharpness and intensity of it. Hated being reminded that he was still human in that regard. He needed to be the monster everyone expected of him, he wanted to be that monster.
He’d fought so hard to be something, anything, more than the bastard and the scar around his throat, more than the son of a whore, more. Always more.
He pushed the gas pedal hard. Perhaps he should have run. He needed to get rid of that excess energy, of that dangerous tightness encompassing his chest. But where he needed to go was too far. He couldn’t wait that long. He needed to release some tension now. Needed to get rid of that sensation in his body. He needed to become himself again. Needed to remind himself.
In the past he had to do so almost daily. Convince himself of his worth, of who he was but recently he had felt like he’d arrived, and now that girl so out of his league was ruining everything.
He pulled up in front of the Baton Rouge in the non-parking zone, ignoring the car behind him that honked. He threw open the door and got out of the car. The bouncer didn’t say a word about the hazardous way Growl had parked, only took a step back as Growl stalked past him without a word of greeting. Growl was almost sad the asshole hadn’t told him off. He wanted to break bones, wanted to maim and kill.
The inside of the brothel was stuffed with whores and their johns. There was false laughter and too sweet perfume. There was sweat and sex and smoke in the air. There was a tension so thick, you could cut it with a knife.
Some of the tightness in Growl’s chest loosened. This was familiar. This was what he needed. A few whores glanced his way, then quickly away, hoping he’d choose someone else. Their refusal didn’t matter. He’d never cared for their opinion. He’d had them all and most of them were not worth his time. They couldn’t give him what he wanted, what he needed.
But there was someone who could, who liked to scratch and bite, who liked it hard and merciless.
Lola had turned away from her potential suitor, a fat asshole in a dark suit. Growl didn’t know the man, so he didn’t matter. Growl knew everyone who mattered in this town, everyone you shouldn’t cross, and most of them were clever enough not to get in his way anyway.
Fatguy clamped a meaty hand down on Lola’s thigh but she shook him off, and opened her legs wide for Growl. Her dress riled up, revealing a clean-shaven pussy, a piercing glittering in the dim overhead light. Fatguy glowered, then followed Lola’s gaze toward Growl. His expression fell. He quickly slid off his stool and disappeared from view, looking for another whore perhaps.
Growl didn’t give a fuck. He walked past the bar toward the back before he stepped into the second room on the right. It was vacant, but the smell of sex, disinfectant, and rubber lay heavy in the air. He stalked toward the bed and seconds later the door closed behind him.
“Hard day,” Lola said in a raspy voice. No question, a statement. She knew better than to ask questions. He knew she was close when the smell of stale and fresh smoke closed around him. When she didn’t have a drink or a dick in her mouth, she was smoking.
He turned. Her lips were coated in red lipstick, looking glossy and false. Everything about her did. Her black hair, dyed too many times, fell straight down her back. Held down with hairspray and whatever else women used to make their hair do things it wasn’t meant to do. Her lips twisted into a flirty smile, her eyes, rimmed with too much make-up flickered with eagerness. Oh yes, she liked it.
She wasn’t out of his reach.
He grabbed her arms and twisted her around, then threw her down on the bed. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling hard as his other hand opened his fly, then shoved up her skirt and thrust into her in one sharp merciless thrust. She cried out, in pain or lust, he didn’t know, didn’t care. She twisted her arms back, raked her long nails over his thighs, drawing blood. He hissed and fucked her harder, and harder until the image of porcelain skin left his mind, until he was back to being who he was meant to be.
A monster, nothing less.
CHAPTER NINE
Cara
I was woken by a sound I couldn’t place. Like claws on wood. My eyes flew open, staring up at a white ceiling, not my canopy bed. A few dark stains dotted the white that was actually more grey, as if someone had swatted flies or mosquitos and not bothered to clean up afterward. Confusion slithered through my sleepy mind, and then everything that had happened came crashing down on me. I jerked into a sitting position. It took a moment before I figured out the noise I’d heard. The dogs. They were in front of my door again.
Damn it. I really needed to go to the toilet, but with the dogs waiting for me that was out of the question. Not that I even knew where the bathroom was.
I stood slowly, legs shaky, and peered out of the small window. It looked out into a small garden. The lawn hadn’t been mowed in a while and like the house, the garden, too, was devoid of any decoration. Someone was screaming in the neighbor houses. A woman, followed by a man. The same couple I had overheard last night.