“Five,” he says. His upper lip rises in a snarl, and the raised skin of his scar crinkles near his eye. Shit. He’s scary like this.
My hands shake at my sides, so I shove them into my jean pockets as far as I can to hide my fear. For some reason I don’t think he’ll care much if he knows how badly he’s scaring me.
“Four.”
My eyes go wide and, like the crazy lady that I’m turning into, I raise my arms in the air and start waving them frantically.
“Why are you counting down?”
“Three.”
Oh fuck.
Oh fuck.
Oh fuck.
“No, really,” I say and then cover my mouth because, even though he’s looking at me, his eyes are unfocused and I’m not sure he’s really looking at me as much as through me.
“Two.”
Suddenly I remember the night at the park.
I own you at one.
Holy crap.
I can’t really process what’s going on here. I’ve never been in a position like this before. Holly and I grew up with the club at arm’s length. They were always a distant enough nuisance. Even when we were in school, we didn’t really cross paths with the club kids. Ryan, Ian, and Duke were a year behind Holly and a few years ahead of me. Nic was a year behind me, and even though we all grew up in the same small town and an even smaller school, I didn’t know any of the club kids back then. I hung out with a very different group than they did. I think maybe if I had more experience with them and their world, I might know how to act here.
“One.” Ian’s eyes shine and the word comes out so slowly. There’s a sense of pride in his voice, but it’s overshadowed by the predatory grin he’s sporting.
“Who do you belong to, Melinda?”
“You.”
What the hell did I just say? Why did I say that? I don’t even know what belonging to someone means, much less if I’m even capable of belonging to Ian. Surely he has expectations—expectations I doubt I can fulfill.
“I gave you a chance to be responsible for yourself, but twice now you’ve proven to me that you can’t handle it. From now on, I make your decisions for you.”
What in the hell . . .
Ian’s disturbing grin falls as he stares at me, expressionlessly. His brow is smooth and his eyes look bored as he stands there silently. Something has shifted in him, and I can’t figure out what it is or why. He’s not normally like this with me. He’s been so even-keeled and gentle with me, but this isn’t gentle. This is a darker side of him that I need to take note of. Holly and Nic tried to warn me for a reason, and even if I don’t really know what those reasons are, I can’t ignore that they exist.
“Tell me you understand,” he says. Despite the rapid-fire freak-out going on inside my head, I can’t stop the blossoming excitement that’s spreading through me. Ian won’t hurt me. He said I’m not safe with him, but being safe and getting hurt are totally different. Aren’t they?
“Tell me.” His jaw is locked with his demand.
Suddenly I want something from him so fiercely that it takes me by surprise.
“You keep saying I’m not safe with you. Why not?”
He pauses but eventually relents.
“I want certain things. I like certain things. You’re never going to like what I want to give you.” His voice is strained as he speaks the words.
“Tell me then,” I say on a plea.
“When I think about you, I want to fuck you hard and raw, and it would hurt. You’re not ready for it. You won’t like it. I won’t make us both suffer by even trying it, so no, you’re not safe with me.”
“You can’t be gentle?” I ask.
“I’ve never tried. I don’t know if I’m capable of gentle. But I’d try—for you.”
My breath catches, and my legs are wobbly. He’s trying to scare me—and it’s working—but even more than that, I’m intrigued.
“Show me what it’s like,” I say. “I just . . . I need this . . . I need to see it.” If what he wants to do to me, to give to me, is so terrible, I have to see it for myself.
Chapter 9
I let my eyes fall closed as I wait in the dark and silent room for Mindy. It’s rare that the pleasure palace is this quiet, but I worked it out with Pop. He didn’t ask questions, and I didn’t give any explanations. I couldn’t do this with Mindy in my room. I just couldn’t think about hurting her in that space I’ll have to return to again and again. And this will hurt her. I know it will.
I’m leaning back against a cold, dirty mirror that lines the entire wall. My head rests on the glass. Thirty seconds pass. A minute passes. Then two minutes, and Mindy is still not here with me.
I gave her a choice. Kind of. She doesn’t have to come, but I want her to.
Another minute passes, and I fight back the desire to slam my head into the surface behind me. It’s a mirror, not a plaster wall. The painful breaking of my flesh would bring a much-needed and welcome relief, but I’m not here to make myself feel better.