Page 23 of He Hate Me

This shouldn’t be happening between us, and yet it is. I close my eyes, and I can see the hunger in his eyes as he broke away from the kiss. Hear his ragged breathing in my ear. Feel the heat of his body molded against mine.

My phone vibrates with an incoming text. I frown, wondering who would text me so late at night. The text is from Brandon, and it reads, “You will receive discipline.” What the heck does that mean? My brain is confused enough with the kiss we just shared. I send back a text with multiple question marks, but he doesn’t reply right away, and I’m tired. I climb into bed and let sleep take me.

I wake up a few hours later, disoriented by the darkness, wondering where I am. My bedroom is pitch-black, but it doesn't feel right. My hands are bound behind my back with something soft like a scarf or a T-shirt, and duct tape covers my mouth.

Brandon looms over me, holding a dim flashlight, his features half hidden by shadows. The bedside lamp flickers on and I'm blinded for a moment by the sudden influx of light. Brandon sets the flashlight down and sits next to me on the bed, his friendly smile belying the situation we’re in. I try to scream, but the tape over my mouth is very effective. Barely a squeak gets out.

“Shh,” he says, stroking my thigh the way you’d pet a cat. “Don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you. Well, I’m not going to harm you.”

He must see the way my eyes bug out at the words, but he doesn’t react to that. He leans closer, sniffing my hair.

“Mmm, coconut,” he says, then burying his face in my neck, “and vanilla. I love the way you smell. So edible.” There’s a sharp sting as he nips at my collarbone with his teeth. My heart is pounding so loudly I can hardly hear my own thoughts, much less focus on what he’s saying. He frowns at me, cocking his head to the side. He stops talking, and strokes my face gently, breathing slowly and deeply until I find myself matching him. My heart slows down, much of the tension easing from my chest and limbs.

“Are you hearing me now?”

I nod watching him warily.

“You need to know you’re safe with me, Deja. Do you understand?

I shake my head, no. He sounds like a lunatic who’s trying to gaslight me.

“I told you to stay away from my friends. Mello is hurt because of your desire to what? Feed your ego?”

I shake my head vigorously. He holds me by the neck with one hand and uses the other to peel off the tape. It stings a little, but not as much as I expected. There’s a warning squeeze, reminding me that he’s got his hand on my throat and can cut off my air supply if I decide to scream.

“Why did you do it?”

“I forgot I’d invited him,” I say hoarsely.

“How did you get his number?”

“He gave it to me last Saturday.”

“And when did you call him?”

“I texted him on Tuesday.”

“And you knew I didn’t want you to.”

“I guess. I kind of remember you saying something, but I was high. Anyway, you can’t just tell me what to do.”

“I’m not trying to control you, Deja. It’s not even about that. This is about how you got Mello hurt and you don’t want to own it. There have to be consequences.”

“You don’t get to decide what those are.”

“Somebody has to,” he says, shrugging. “I couldn’t sleep, so I looked it up I looked it up. Physical discipline is supposed to help when someone is, um, doing something they're not supposed to. It reinforces the limits or something. It’s going to hurt, but if you think about it, it’s way better than what Mello has to deal with.”

There’s an almost feverish look in his eyes, and as calm as his voice is, I don’t believe him. I can’t say why, but I don’t think punishment is the reason I’m here, though I’m sure he believes what he’s saying. A desire for retribution doesn’t create eyes that hungry.

He strokes my shoulder gently, staring at my lips for a second like he’s going to kiss me, but then seems to change his mind. He reaches over to the bedside table, and I wrench my head around to see him picking up a roll of tape.

“I know this isn’t that comfortable, but you might have a hard time staying quiet and we definitely don’t want to be overheard. Press your lips together; not too hard. Just relax.”

He cuts a piece of tape off with a small pair of scissors and tapes my mouth again.

“Can you breathe okay?” I nod. Adrenaline is pumping through my body at this point. Why does he think I’ll have a hard time staying quiet? Fear spikes inside me, making hard to breathe. Brandon is seriously scaring me. He acts cool and removed most of the time, but I know there’s a core of barely contained rage underneath. Even Mackenzie has sensed it, though she finds it sexy. I don’t know how you confuse scary and sexy.

“I’m going to take your pajama bottoms off now. If this becomes too much, or you want me to stop all together, just kick your feet and I’ll stop.”