Page 36 of Depraved

“What’s the matter, ballerina girl? Didn’t expect that answer?”

I couldn’t respond since I was struggling to not throw up.

“I answered. So now you eat.”

The spoon was in my face when I opened my eyes, and all I could do was pray to God that I could get through this. Granite was a little less cruel by only giving me a small bite of macaroni. But it still didn’t go down easily—not when I remembered Onyx had the same tag on his cut. Blood Brothers. Good God, was I surrounded by killers?

Granite held out the spoon again. “Open your mouth.”

I shook my head. “No. I get to ask a question first.”

“Fine.” The spoon clattered against the bowl as he placed it back.

“How many people have you killed?” My voice shook, and I regretted the question the second it left my mouth.

“I lost count.” He answered it like it was the easiest question in the world. As if I had just asked him the answer to one plus one. No remorse. No regret. He showed nothing that gave me the impression he hated the fact that he was a killer.

With the next bite, I didn’t show as much hesitance and didn’t chew as long either.

“Who else has the tag?” The masochist in me wanted to know exactly how many fucking killers lived under this roof.

“Ink, Dutch, and Onyx.”

“Who are Ink and Dutch?”

“Ink is the club’s sergeant-at-arms. Crazy son of a bitch. He makes sure laws are upheld, and no one carries a firearm without him knowing about it. Dutch is the enforcer.”

“Enforcer?”

“You’re not playing by the rules, ballerina girl.” He held up the spoon, and I gagged a little thinking of swallowing more food. But I was desperate. They said knowledge was power, and I needed to make use of every opportunity I got in order to empower myself. It was the only way for me to fight back. So, I ate, my stomach complaining more and more after every mouthful I swallowed. My body wasn’t used to eating this much.

I cringed as the last of the food slipped down my throat.

There was an amused grin on his face as he watched me struggle. “Good girl. Now, to answer your question. In our case, the enforcer is lead security when it comes to protecting the president. He also helps the sergeant-at-arms to make sure members uphold our laws.”

“And if they don’t?”

He shot me a sly grin while reaching for the beer. “How do you think he ended up with the Blood Brothers tag?”

I shuddered. Made total sense how those two got the killer badge in the club.

“Ever drink beer before?”

“You’re the one claiming to know me, so why don’t you tell me?”

He leaned forward, and I could smell the overripe scent of the beer he held out to me. I’d only ever tasted beer once while at a party with Red. It was vile. The thought of drinking it made me feel lightheaded and sick. But the thought of ending up as nothing more than a number on his hit list had me opening my mouth as he brought the bottle to my lips.

Beer spilled down the side of my face even though Granite poured slowly. When he pulled the bottle away, I was relieved since I was sure I had only been one mouthful away from hurling beer and macaroni in his face.

The wetness of the beer remained on my mouth and chin, and he glanced at my lips before looking me in the eye. The moment lingered for a while, and with each passing second, his eyes darkened. There was a hunger, a desire in the depths of his irises—the golden specks masked with greed. Suddenly, I was hyperaware of how close he was, his warm breath skidding across my wet lips, causing me to shiver. My body prickled with more anticipation than fear.

“Ask me, Alyx.”

He didn’t back down. In fact, I was sure he was leaning closer, little by little, his earthy scent mixing with the overripe fruit flavor of the beer.

His gaze dropped down to my mouth, and I sucked in a breath, closing my eyes when he touched his thumb against the corner of my lips. Softly, gently, as if I were glass, he wiped his fingers down my chin, his caress igniting a fire deep within me. My lips parted, and in that moment, I didn’t want him to stop touching me. Gone was the fear, replaced by desire, and it felt right in so many wrong ways. How could I desire his touch while fearing him?

Lightly, his fingers traced along my jaw. “Ask me the one question you’re burning to ask me,” he whispered, and I imagined his low voice was what seduction sounded like. Dark. Tempting. Captivating. And utterly disarming.