Chapter Fifteen
Fear came in many shapes and forms, and in varying degrees, but until now Val had never experienced the overwhelming terror which resulted from utter helplessness. Seconds ticked by and salvation did not come. And Val came to the grim conclusion that she was completely at his mercy — which was unfortunate, because he didn't seem to have any.
She whimpered when she felt his fingers tease the skin beneath the hem of her shirt. In the confines of her belly, fear formed a hot ball of molten lead.
“Tell me you belong to me.”
“No.” She squeaked unhappily when his nails raked lightly against her midriff. “No, I won't.” She squeezed her eyes shut, putting space between them the only way she knew how. I don't belong to him. Then he cupped her breast, as if trying to claw out her heart, and a small, insidious voice added, yet. “I won't,” she repeated, pathetically, as his lips brushed against her pulse.
“If you say it,” his chapped lips scraped her throat with each word, “I might let you go.”
How stupid did he think she was, that she would fall for the same ruse twice? She called him a name, punctuated by several other words she wasn't supposed to know, and a handful of phrases Lisa had used to refer to various ex-boyfriends.
His thumb slipped beneath the cup of her bra and Val froze completely, her speech cut off as neatly as if a switch had been thrown. She was no longer even breathing. Gavin shot her a smile that was distinctly serpentine as he pulled his hand away, running his fingers harmlessly down the center of her ribs. Her heart was hurling itself against her chest as if trying to escape.
Val wished she could do the same.
“You're going to hurt me.”
“I can make you feel whatever I want,” he went on, in a soft, soothing voice that she didn't believe for one minute.
“You're going to hurt me,” she repeated, cracks of fear rifting through her words on each point of impact.
He kissed her, tracing the grooves of her spine as he did with light shivering scratches that made her want to pull away but only caused the body weighing hers down to press against her all the more fully. The words on her lips burned with unspoken promises as he said, “Only a little.”
Val's stomach twisted. To her revulsion it wasn't entirely in fear.
Then she saw something that gave her hope. She drew in a deep breath and screamed as loud as she could, gratified when he winced at the shrillness. I hope I broke his eardrums. He yanked his hand from her back and clapped it over her mouth hard enough to sting —
And then the door burst open.
▪▫▪▫▪▫▪
Ms. Wilcox had seen many things in her twenty years of teaching, but as she stared, frozen, at the two teenagers tangled up on the floor, she had the passing thought that none of them had ever been quite so bad as this. Val — that sweet, shy girl of whom she was quite fond — was pressed with her back flush against the floor, her arms pinned over her head.
By Gavin. Her TA. Whom she had entrusted with sending emails and making copies and various other privileges that were denied to student assistants as a de facto policy. He fixed her with a flat look that reminded her disconcertingly of a leopard defending its kill.
“What — ” it took her a moment to find her voice “ — Gavin? What are you doing?” Her words were more reflex than anything else. There was no misinterpreting the situation. The poor girl had been trying to scream this whole time, and he was denying her even that small dignity. Anger began to curl through Ms. Wilcox's shock, bright red seeping through the gray fog of her mind with striking clarity. Her own younger sister had been assaulted, when they were both teens, by a man old enough to know better. He, too, had been callous in the execution of his selfish desires. In a steel-girded tone Val had never heard her teacher use before, even in class, Ms. Wilcox said, “Get off her, you son of a bitch. Right now.”
Slowly, Val felt him release her wrists. Pain arced through them as blood began to circulate with excruciating slowness through her veins. But his legs, still on either side of her hips, tensed as if he were readying himself to spring.
“You're making a terrible mistake.”
“Get — away — from Val.”
She saw his eyes flick towards the drawer where the carving supplies were kept for woodwork. He wouldn't —
He was.
Val screamed a wordless protest, grabbing him by the ankle with both arms and pulling hard. His eyes widened almost comically as the ground slid out from under him. All the air in his lungs exploded out of him in a painful-sounding wheeze as he slammed against the floor. Val was on him in an instant, punching, kicking, and clawing, not giving him time to recover.
Which he did. He was quite a bit stronger than she thought. He tried to push her off, but she was clinging to his shirt with her nails, pinching flesh as well as fabric. He made a noise that sounded like a cross between a growl, a gasp, and a laugh.
Val went for his eyes and he turned his head, so her blow caught him beneath the jaw. Raw stripes appeared in the wake of her fingers, already welling up with blood. “I suggest you stop now,” he said, catching her hand as she cocked her arm back for another strike. “Before you regret this.”
“Don't touch me.”
Val gouged at his hand, yanking at the same time. She heard him hiss. Then his fingers closed around her wrist and he gave a vicious tug of his own — she felt the pain ricochet up her arm, spurring the neural equivalent of an echo chamber in her shoulder socket — as he brought her arm behind her back.
Ms. Wilcox had managed to get to the phone, which Gavin evidently hadn't had the foresight to tamper with. She was calling the police. They would be here in three minutes. That might not be soon enough. Val snapped her head back, hitting him in the forehead and eliciting a growl. Behind her back, the pressure on her wrist tightened to where she feared the bones might snap.
He didn't speak right away, though she felt his rapid breathing stir her sweat-soaked hair. “I am trying to make this as civil as possible, but you are forcing my hand, Val.”
He paused.
“Unless this is what you want, of course. But somehow I do not think this is the case, anymore than a fox, half-mad with fear, gnaws at its own limbs by preference when caught in a steel trap.” She shuddered at the terrible appropriateness of that analogy.
“Come with me,” he said, “and I will teach you things the likes of which all men dream but none dare. You're as bestial as I, my dear, in your own artless way — but you need a hunter just as I need my quarry. Freedom quickly grows stale on the tongue without the added spice of imprisonment, and you'll never want for anything, as long as you submit to me in all ways.”
Words tumbled from her lips like blocks of ice. “You're insane.”
“Is that a no?”
“It's a go to hell!”
“Then what if instead of going after you I went after someone you hold dear? Would you resist me then? Or would you play my way in exchange for their well-being?”
Val stiffened.
“You would. You would, wouldn't you? Interesting. I'll be sure to keep that in mind.”
She jerked as if his words had been a physical blow. “Don't you dare! Leave them alone you — you — you bastard. Leave them alone or — or I'll make you leave them alone.”
“So fierce,” he said approvingly, “And so protective. Yes, I think I like this side to you.”
“I mean it!” Desperation rendered her voice shrill. “This isn't a game. You can't do this to people. You can't play with them like they're pawns.”
“That's where you're wrong,” he said calmly. “I can.”
And he pulled her back by her chin and kissed her on the mouth, which was still open with shock. Once she had sufficiently recovered her senses she bit him. He bit back harder, and she felt his tongue sweep the inside of her mouth to lap at their commingling blood. Val gagged and tried to pull away, only to gasp as pain flared down her shoulders at the renewed pressure on her arms.
“You can't win against me — and you're only going to hurt yourself, doing that.”
She could see Ms. Wilcox approaching. “He's crazy,” Val choked out to her, “he thinks he's an animal — he drinks people's blood. Please, you have to tell someone — he's sick.”
And Val saw a strange expression flicker over her teacher's face; she was in no state to put words to it, but it frightened her. Gavin's grip tightened on her wrists, making her gasp, but he didn't speak.
“Tell her, you bastard,” she sobbed, “tell her about the savanna, and the killings. Tell her everything.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” he said softly. “Poor Val.”
“What does that mean? What are you doing?”
Before he could answer, he was yanked off her by a member of the Derringer Police Department — a tall, robust black man who made no effort to be gentle. And then Val felt Ms. Wilcox's hands on her shoulders, her voice in her ear asking her if she was all right. But all she could taste was the blood, and all she could see were those eyes.
And then everything went black.