My lines have been drawn and redrawn in the sand each time I barreled over one, learning a new thing I was capable of losing if it meant food on the table and a tin roof over our heads.
But not my body. Never my body.
It might be one of my last lines standing, but I won’t cross it.
I guess I’m glad he doesn’t want that from me.
Peering at Devlin through my lashes, it’s hard to decipher the mask he keeps locked in place. This differs from the one he wears in school and parties, the one that brands him Silver Lake High’s dark king. That one is easy to read. Hair hangs in his eyes, but I can see the mix of calculative coldness and an uncomfortable eagerness in the sinister depths. He’s probably looking forward to catching a new toy in his claws.
I scrape my teeth against my bottom lip, wishing I could reach the knots around my wrists. Gemma took me to a self defense class in Denver over the summer. If I could get loose, aim an incapacitating kick at his nuts, I think I’d make it to the woods surrounding the house before he caught me again. I’m a fast runner. But these damn knots are so tight and he tied my arms so they’re separated rather than together, leaving me unable to use my opposite hand to work the restraint free.
Biding my time isn’t going well. When he grabbed me in the garage, I knew right away I’d never overpower him, not while we were alone. I need to wait for the upper hand to fight him. The rules here—deep in enemy territory—are unknown. I have to figure my way out of this mess.
I’ve been trying to squirm free of the cord wound around my wrists. He didn’t tie me with any normal knots, it seems. Every time I move they feel tighter, not looser.
The rumors spread by the bragging from girls who have been with him swim to the front of my mind, how he doesn’t fuck like other guys. They call him mischievous and dangerously sexy. With the way these knots are tied…god, what kind of freaky shit gets him off?
“I really should have you locked up, but since you begged so nicely—well, not quite, but,” Devlin touches his splayed hand to his chest and pretends to bow, right out of an Austen novel, “I’m willing to be a gentleman and help you out.”
My eyebrows shoot up before I can hold back a reaction. Um, what?
It doesn’t sound like a nice gesture at all, his tone and the blackness of his shadowed eyes belying the trap in his offer.
As if I’d believe he’s helping me out of the goodness of his heart!
Devlin doesn’t have a heart. If he ever had one, it died off long ago. In its place sits a rotten, decayed hole.
“What exactly do you mean?”
Sign your soul over to me, or the cops.
How can I pick between my nightmare and the devil that torments me?
What does he expect me to do? It’s an impossible choice. But then again, so is the problem that drove me into this situation in the first place.
This feels like one of his cruel tricks, the same as his soccer buddies baiting me with dollar bills on fishing wire at school. Or last year, when he let me sit at his lunch table alongside Gemma because Lucas wanted her there, but the price was Devlin toying with my lunch tray and dumping it on the floor in front of everyone.
Devlin waves off my question. “I’ll give you what you came here for.”
That gets my attention. I sit up as much as I can on the narrow stool, swallowing.
“I don’t follow.” My forehead wrinkles. “You’re going to let me drive off with your car? Just like that?”
The corner of Devlin’s mouth quirks up and a dimple appears in his cheek.
“Not at all. You’re never to touch my car again.” He points at me to drive that decree home. He studies me with cunning curiosity. “No, what I mean is if you play my game, I’ll forget all about tonight. And if you do that, I’ll give you the money you obviously need.”
My lips part, lured by the temptation for a minute.
Reality catches up with me a second later. I snap my mouth shut as I seek out the part where he laughs in my face. Because what he’s offering? It sounds too fucking good to be true. He’ll just give me money? There’s a catch, I know it.
Devlin? Fine with helping me?
We hate each other.
“This offer expires before you leave here.” Devlin’s grin is smug. “So…ready to play a game, little thief?” He slinks closer, like a beast hunting me down for sport, drowning me in the rich, earthy scent of leather and spice. He wraps a lock of my hair around his finger while the smile dances on his lips, the dimples on display. “I’ll explain further. The rules are simple: my way is law.”
“That’s it?” I purse my lips to the side.