Angry God

“Don’t confuse yourself for someone strong.” He chuckled. “You will do nothing but suck my cock and cater to my every need this next semester, Good Girl. And fuck, do I intend to leave you with some nice memories and a few art tips.”

“Drop dead.”

“Soon, but not soon enough for you.”

“Kiss me,” I quipped, starting another mind game and trying to regain some of the power in our exchange.

His thick eyebrows dove into a scowl.

“Scared to catch feelings?” I smiled sweetly. “Don’t worry. I won’t beg for mo—”

He crashed his mouth down on mine like a storm, hungry and desperate and full of lust, and he grabbed my hair in his fist so I couldn’t jerk back and deny him the kiss. His tongue slicked over mine, giving it a playful flick, a been missing ya.

I moaned into his mouth, and he released my wrists, cupping both my cheeks and deepening our kiss. I used one hand to rake my fingernails along his back over his shirt, trying to leave marks. A deep chuckle seeped from the back of his throat.

“Peace Sells” by Megadeth played distortedly in both our ears through the still-working CD player.

Vaughn and I hated each other, but our bodies didn’t seem to share the sentiment.

What he failed to notice while threading his fingers through my hair, while devouring my tongue and conquering my mouth, was that I slipped my free hand under my mattress, retrieving a little pocketknife. As his lips moved from mine to my neck, making me drunk and delirious with need, I put the dagger to his throat, the blade poking his flesh. His Adam’s apple didn’t even bob when the cold metal met it.

I felt his grin against my skin, his teeth running along my jawline, teasing me lazily.

“You gonna kill me, Good Girl?”

I poked the dagger harder against his throat, my pulse exploding like fireworks. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, and it remained steady and slow. Maybe Vaughn really was a psychopath. I’d never met someone so cool and unaffected in my life.

“Yes, if you don’t quit taunting me. We’re going to play by my rules on my home field.”

“Wanna bet?”

“You hooked Arabella up with the assistant’s job. You even got her daddy to shell out some money to make it happen. Why? You hate her.”

“I hate you more.”

“Again—why? I haven’t done anything to you. I kept your secret.”

Your stupid, meaningless secret, I wanted to add.

“You were a little pushover mouse, which turned me off. Now you’re a mouthy little shithead. That version of you pisses me off, too. But I don’t think you’re capable of digging this knife in, sweetheart.”

“Don’t try me,” I warned with a shaky voice.

I’d never hurt anyone before, but I knew Vaughn could bring me there. He always made me do crazy things. I’d stitched him up. Stabbing him seemed like coming full circle.

“You need a bitch to bring you down. I hope she’ll stab you while she’s at it,” Knight had said to Vaughn on the last day of school.

He wasn’t wrong.

Vaughn finally detached his lips from me, elevating his head just enough to look me in the eye in the dark. He was so heart-stoppingly beautiful, I couldn’t breathe.

“That’s exactly what I’m doing. I told you to do your worst. Play along,” he enunciated.

Lord. He practically invited me to hurt him. And I was going to do it. I rearranged the angle of the blade away from his Adam’s apple, picking a place where I couldn’t see or feel the bulge of a vein. When he stayed silent and still, I poked. I didn’t stop until a trail of thin blood began to run down into his black shirt, like a tiny river. I held my breath, watching the cut in his throat, mesmerized.

Before I knew what was happening, Vaughn had snatched the knife from my hand and pointed it to my neck, smiling politely.

“My turn. Now suck on it good. I know how much you like my blood. Arabella and Alice don’t call you Drusilla for nothing.”

I swallowed hard, but made no move toward his wound.

He was right, of course.

Drawing and sucking his blood turned me on, and that mortified me.

I knew I was going to get off on it, and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Nah. I think I’ll wait to see who cuts deeper,” I heard myself say.

I couldn’t believe those words had left my mouth. I was obviously drunk on our kiss. I didn’t want him to cut me. And I had no doubt he would. He was Vaughn bloody Spencer, for goodness’ sake.

Literally Vaughn bloody Spencer. And it was all my doing.

He poked the blade a little into my flesh, but stopped before it even hurt. “Fuck, you’re crazy.” He laughed, his eyes lighting up as if the revelation relieved him.