“I wanted to know what it tasted like when someone else bleeds for me,” I whisper.
He works his jaw. “I’ll always bleed for you,” he whispers before gripping my jaw in his hand and connecting his lips softly with mine, licking his blood from my lips.
“You’re still my helpless little mouse, but only when it comes to my irresistible prowess,” he says when he pulls away, gracing me with a shit-eating grin.
I close my eyes, a laugh bursting from my mouth. A single tear slips out, emotions rising up my throat. The happy vapors are back, and I hope to God they stick around for a little while this time.
“You’re such a prick.”
“No, baby, I’m just the masochist that can’t get enough of your beauty, even when you draw blood.” He glances down at the tiny droplets sprouting from where I dug my nail into his skin.
I purse my lips. “I guess I’m the prick then.”
Chapter 34
The Diamond
“Ring around the rosies, pocket full of posies,” Sibby sings loudly, skipping around the three wriggling bodies strapped to their chairs. “Ashes, ashes, we all fall DOWN!” she screams, kicking the back of Rocco’s chair on the last word. She shouts it so loudly, even I jump.
I let out a long-suffering sigh. She’s been singing all damn day, taunting them to the point that Francesca has officially soiled herself.
I’ll admit—that was pretty fucking funny.
Zade let her have her fun and get as much information out of the three as possible—after she pinky swore and crossed her heart and hoped to die not to kill them. Unsurprisingly, Sibby has proven to be just as skilled with psychological torture as she is with physical. She made them want to die without even having to touch them.
I have a feeling it’s partly because of her atrocious singing, but I’m not about to tell her that.
For the past week, she’s been getting names of people who attend the Culling every year—whether they come as spectators or participants—the other traffickers who bought girls, and of course, any information Francesca and Xavier have on Claire.
“Rio Sanchez,” Sibby sings. “Still not going to tell me where he is?”
Francesca rolls her eyes, feigning an attitude to conceal just how frightened she is of a girl circling her like a hungry shark.
It’s not working.
Sibby is scary.
“I told you this already, I don’t know where he is. He helped her escape, and then he fled. That’s all I know, and frankly, I would gladly hand him over to you because I want him dead, too!” she says, her voice ending in a frustrated screech. She’s flushed bright red and panting. Anger, pain, and frustration all etched into the harsh lines in her face. Old makeup is cracked and smudging, aging her ten years.
She is so going to die with acne all over her face and I find poetic justice in that.
I roll my lips, attempting to ignore the sharp pain stabbing in the center of my chest. Anytime I think of Rio and what will happen when Zade eventually gets his hands on him… I kind of want to cry.
My feelings towards him are complicated, and I’m not sure I’ll ever truly understand them. Even more so now that I’ve met his sister and learned that the evil bitch before me was forcing him to do a lot more for her than I initially thought.
I said I wouldn’t feel guilty when Zade got ahold of him. But then he saved me. And now, I can’t say that I’ll stop Zade… but I can’t say I’ll feel nothing either.
“Do you want him dead because he helped the diamond escape, or because he betrayed you and put a crack in that icy little heart?” I ask.
Her eyes spit fire while she glowers at me.
“He was nothing more than a good fuck,” she seethes.
I bend at the waist, thinning my eyes. “Did you have to threaten to kill his sister every time you wanted him to fuck you?”
Rocco snorts, and Francesca’s head whips to him in offense. He’s pale, sweaty, and seemingly tired, but the malice in his eyes is unmistakable. “She stopped threatening that after the first two years—and I think it’s just because he got tired of hearing it.”
“Shut the fuck up!” she screeches, her face turning a ghastly shade of purple. Doesn’t suit her complexion very well.