Haunting-Adeline

Regardless of the reason, he doesn’t take kindly to it. His hand wraps
around my throat, pushing me back while he rips his face away. My head
thumps against the wall, a dull throb radia ng from the spot.
He’s squeezing ghtly, but I don’t care. I feel jus fied. If he kills me here
and now, at least I can say I le one last mark on him.
He growls low, a sound of frustra on and something else that I can’t put
a name to.
I stare up at him, blood coa ng my tongue and trailing down my chin. It’s
a small amount. I didn’t get the chance to rip his face to shreds like I
wanted. But the small dots of blood on his face leave me feeling
invigorated all the same.
“I’m beginning to think you like to be punished, which means I’m just
going to have to do be er.”
Before I can react, he’s li ing me up and tossing me over his shoulder
like a sack of potatoes.
“Fucker!” I snap, banging my fists against his back. I am not a potato.
A sharp slap to my ass is his only response.
He carries me down the steps, takes a le turn into the hallway and
down towards the sunroom. The en re me I fight, kicking and punching,
but he acts like a bu erfly is a acking him.
As if he hears my frustra ons, he says, “Baby, the wind can do more
damage than what you’re doing.”
“Want to see my teeth again, asshole? I’ll keep making your face uglier.”
“Keep telling yourself that, but we both know my scars make you wet,”
he retorts, amusement coloring his words. I growl, frustrated by how
fucking unruffled he is. And because he’s not en rely wrong.
No, dumbass, he is wrong.
More curses flood out of my mouth, but they’re cut short when he drags
my body down his front un l my legs are wrapped around his waist, and
he’s cradling me to his chest.
Oh, fuck this.
I li my hands to scratch his face, maybe do a li le eye-gouging, but
instead, I just squeal. He swoops me backward, my stomach bo oming out
as he sets me on the ground, flat on my back. He kneels before me, his
arms on either side of my head as he braces himself over me.