I go still, my hands falling to either side of me, and I attempt to go into last-resort survival mode.
His grip slowly loosens and a wolfish grin lifts his lips and a striking light twinkles the deep blue of his eyes. It’s like when the sun is kissing the surface of an ocean, light on the surface but will never reach any of the darkness beneath.
I slowly suck in a fractured breath but remain still so as not to encourage his choke-happy fingers.
“There,” he marvels, his thumb stroking the pulse point in my neck. “Perfectly statuesque. Absolutely stunning.”
There’s something seriously wrong with this guy and he could use urgent professional help.
I don’t like the shivers that cover my skin at his touch or the sensual intimacy in every stroke.
My body temperature rises and that can only be because I want to kick him in the nuts.
I contemplate doing that. I just need to push back—
“Don’t even think about it.” The rare light slowly fades from his eyes. “I’m on a high and that means I will react drastically to any provocation. Chivalry and I don’t coexist and, therefore, I don’t give two flying fucks that you’re a woman. If you attack me, I’ll choke the fuck out of you.”
I try to reach for my phone so I can type a few choice words for the asshole despite being deeply disturbed and slightly terrified.
Okay, maybe more than slightly.
He shakes his head again. “I mean it, Mia. Stay like a statue before I snuff out your life.”
“You need help, you sick psycho bastard. Go fuck yourself,” I sign, even though he doesn’t understand a thing. I just needed to get that off my chest.
He releases my throat, grabs both my arms and glues them to either side of me, then squeezes my wrists. “A statue doesn’t move, now, does it?”
Then he steps back and removes his mask.
I nearly forgot how attractive Landon is. Probably because, weirdly, I don’t see Bran as attractive. Well, he is, but I view it in a detached sense.
Landon, on the other hand, drips with charm and beauty. Both are muddied by his beastly nature.
He’s definitely on the spectrum of either a sociopath or, worse, a psychopath.
My cousin Kill has antisocial tendencies as well, and if he’s anything to go by, then Landon is a worse menace than I predicted.
I realize now that he’s never really shown me his monstrous side before. Now that I’ve gotten a mere glimpse at it, I can’t help feeling the need to turn around and run.
But I don’t.
I really don’t want to risk being strangled to death right now. Not when I’m still reeling from the earlier panic attack.
He throws his mask to the ground and takes a few more steps back, then tilts his head to the side.
A slow smirk lifts the corner of his lips. “I can make a brilliant masterpiece out of you. I can freeze you and sculpt you from the finest stone that ever existed. What do you think? But then again, a statue doesn’t think.”
I need out.
Now.
I don’t ponder it as I calculate the distance to the car and run at full speed. I don’t stop until I’m inside and the door is locked.
A bang sounds on my window and I gasp as I slowly glance at it.
Landon appears on the other side, tall and intimidating as he mouths, “We’re not done.”
I hit the engine with a shaky finger, and it takes me two tries for the damn thing to work.
Another bang. This time a fist against the glass.
I can hear the scream building at the back of my throat, but I press the accelerator all the way down.
The car revs forward, but as I speed out of the parking spot, I catch a glimpse of Landon in my rearview mirror doing the ‘I’m watching you’ sign.
Or maybe now, it’s ‘I have my eyes on you.’
This is the second time I’ve been this terrified in my life.
“Baby? What are you doing up so late?”
I stare at my mother’s face on my tablet’s screen and physically force myself to hold in the tears.
Rai Sokolov is not only my mother, the most beautiful woman inside and out, but also my role model.
Maya and I have her same shade of blonde hair and a carbon copy of her eyes, nose, and lips.
She and Aunt Reina—Mom’s identical twin and Kill and Gareth’s mother—used to joke by saying we’re their mini-mes.
I’ve always known my mom to be a strong woman, undeterred and ruthless. Right now, however, there’s a furrow between her brows.
It’s late evening in New York, and I’ve caught her sitting at her vanity just after she’s finished her workday as a leader in the New York Bratva. That’s right. My mom is the only woman who’s climbed the ranks within a male-dominated organization and snatched a chair at the decision-making table.
She’s no less than my father in any way and made sure to teach us that being a woman isn’t a weakness—it should be a strength.
I used to think I was as assertive and powerful as she is, but after tonight’s incident, my confidence has taken a major hit.
Ever since I came back to the apartment I share with Maya, I’ve been blazing the lights in my room on the highest setting and lying in a fetal position on the bed, waiting for my parents to finish working.
My encounter with the new monster in my life has left a ball in my throat and a fire in my chest.
“What is it, baby?” Mom’s voice softens. “Is something wrong?”
Everything is wrong, Mom. The fear, the strange arousal, and my heart that won’t stop beating so fast.
Everything.
But I don’t say that and, instead, sign, “I just wanted to see your face and hear your voice.”
“Oh, baby.” She smiles, but it’s a tad forced. “I’m over the moon about being able to see your face after a long day.”
I let my lips curve the slightest bit. Most of my smiles are either forced or fake. The day I lost my voice, I also lost my smile.
“Has Aunt Reina been watering and taking care of Amun, Iris, and their family?” I sign.
“I don’t know what’s weirder. The fact that you name your plants or that the head of the family has a demon name. Besides, your Aunt Reina doesn’t need to come all the way here just to water them. The gardener or I could do it.”
“Don’t touch them, Mom. I don’t want them to catch a case of early death.”
“That’s rude.”
“Well, you really kill most plants you touch.”
“I’m sorry I don’t have the green thumb gene.” She smiles and leans closer to her phone. “What’s really wrong, Mia? Is there anything I can help with?”
Of course she’d know something is wrong. She always does.
“I feel a bit down,” I sign.
“Is there a reason behind this?”
“I had a panic attack in a dark place. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t,” I sign, then hang my head.
There’s no way I can tell her about Landon. If I do, she’ll come here herself and rip off his dick, and then she might get in trouble with his influential family.
Besides, if she fixes my problems for me again, doesn’t that mean I will forever be weak?
“I’m so sorry, baby.” Her face, tone, and demeanor drip with love. “I wish I were there so I could give you a mama bear hug.”
“I’m fine.” Lie. “I’ll forget all about it in the morning.” More lies.
“It’s okay if you can’t forget about it, Mia.” She scoots closer. “Listen, I’ve been planning to broach this subject when you come back for a visit, but how about you give therapy another go?”
I link and interlink my fingers, then shake my head. “Therapy doesn’t work. I can’t speak.”
“Of course you can, baby. You just have to find the will to do it again.”
No, I can’t.
That part of me is trapped in an unremarkable capsule that’s hidden deep in the forest.
I’ve forgotten what my voice sounded like. But even if I do speak, puberty has already changed it. Sometimes, I think it’s probably like Maya’s, but deep inside me, a distant memory of it tells me there were some differences.
“We don’t want to push you,” Mom continues. “But have you considered that maybe you gave up on therapy way too soon?”