I take in another deep breath before answering him. “Yes.”
“Good.” He places my hand down and pulls me in for a kiss. It’s not a tender kiss. It’s a forceful, no holds barred kiss. With anger and resentment building in my veins, I kiss him back. But, the more I kiss him, the more intense and passionate it becomes. The anger and rage feed into passion and longing.
Without thinking, I start tugging at his shirt, pulling it out from inside his trousers. Heat pulses through me as Drake trails his hand up my leg before resting on my thigh. He squeezes gently, making me moan with desire. I feel frenzied. I feel wanton. I feel suddenly alive with fire.
“Fuck me,” I demand as I try pulling his shirt over his head.
It’s then I feel a douse of cold water over my head as Drake pushes me away and stands—all six-foot-seven of him and an erection so tall a male porn star would be proud of.
With hooded eyes and uneven breaths, I stare at his flustered state. He is as breathless as I am as he tries hard to compose himself. “Fuck. What are you trying to do to me?”
With a sultry smile, I cock my head. “I need you to fuck me. Isn’t that what you want me to say?” I go the extra mile by placing my hands behind me on the bed and opening my legs wide for him.
Drake growls and looks at me with a heated, but angry stare. “Evelyn, stop this right now. If you keep pushing this, then I will snap. And believe me, I won’t be gentle. I’ve waited too fucking long for you already.” When I don’t move, he sucks in a breath. “I mean it.”
His command snaps me out of it. I dutifully close my legs, and I notice the slight relief on Drake’s face. He bends down, grabbing my face. “I’m going to ask you one question, and you’d better listen to it carefully: Do you know what happens when you rattle an animal’s cage for years and then suddenly let him out?” My eyes widen a little, making him smile. “Just think about that every time you pull a stunt like this.” Getting up, he straightens himself and his shirt before moving towards the door. “Just remember what I said, Evelyn. That ring stays on your finger tonight no matter what. In thirty-four hours, you will be mine.”
He leaves after that, looking every bit the pissed off, controlling alpha male I’ve come to know these past three years. Not long after that, Mandy rushes in and sits beside me.
“Wow, you two look positively fucked. What on earth happened in here?”
What on earth did happen in here?
Mandy’s words drill deeper and deeper into my brain, making the fear, anger, and anxiety crawl back up. To make matters worse, she picks my left hand up and inspects my ring. “Oh my God, it’s beautiful. You’re such a lucky fucking bitch. I would give anything to have Drake plaster a ring on my finger like that. I hate you.”
She places my hand down, and I know I should answer her, but I can’t. All I can do is stare into space and wonder how the fuck I can possibly get out of this. I guess it boils down to one thing. Tonight, I will go to this party. I will show everyone the ring and be the diligent, obedient guest. Then, in the dead of night tonight when everyone is in a drunken sleep, I will escape.
Only thirty-three hours, fifty-two minutes, and twenty-six seconds left.
Age Sixteen
It’s my sixteenth birthday today, but I don’t feel like celebrating. My parents have had my hair straightened, my eyebrows plucked, my face painted, and my body dressed in a delicate peach dress. It’s a beautiful dress that is supposed to make me feel beautiful. I don’t feel beautiful. I feel put on display for the world to see. I feel like a freak show with the number one guest being the great Drake Salvatore.
For the past year, Drake has slowly but surely shown me the monster that lives inside of him. Sure, I do get moments of his sweet nature with his great, dazzling smile to go with his equally dazzling eyes. I hate to admit it, but for the past few months, I have also been adapting to new feelings that I have for Drake. Sure, hatred is one since he paid to put a down payment on me a year ago, but there’s also been something else. Something needy and heated … primal even. To me, he’s unfortunately starting to look more and more appealing. I want to violently quash these feelings. But, it seems like the more I try, the more I fail to ignore the obvious pull he has for me. Sure, he looks after me. I never want for anything. He also makes my parents treat me somewhat civilly, which I must admit I’m grateful for.
I just stumble over one word every day that makes my hatred for Drake grow.
Choice.
I should have a choice, but that option has been stripped from me. In my own mind, I’m choosing to want Drake more than I should, but in another sense, I can’t help thinking he’s somehow forcing me to want him. Maybe he’s just a great magician.