Brutal Obsession (89)

I slide my feet back into my shoes and grab my keys. I blow by Knox and Miles and storm outside. I should be tired. Physically. But the photo album missing has given me a second wind, and I pull up my app to find Violet.

Last time I had her phone, I gave myself access to her location.

Good thing, too, because she’s not at home. At this hour?

Not on campus either.

I zoom in, but I’m not too familiar with where she is. I don’t really give a fuck, though. It doesn’t matter where she is—she’s going to give me that photo album back. Immediately.

It’s close enough to walk, so I do. And I find myself outside an old brick building, her little blue dot on the map showing me that she’s still here. The front door, which opens onto a long, narrow hall, is unlocked. I step inside and keep my weight evenly distributed. I move silently. The first door I come to reveals what seems to be a dance studio. It’s dark, but the light from the hallway shows the bars along the wall and one full wall of mirrors. There’s a piano in the corner, too.

I bypass it for the next.

Light and music spill out of the third and final one.

I stop just shy of it and peer into the opening. Piano music fills the room, and there she is, at the center. Only one row of fluorescent lighting is on, casting the edges of the room in shadow. She wears pointe shoes—I’m pretty sure anyway—and is balanced on one leg, pointed straight into the floor. Impossibly streamlined. Her other is bent, and she spins gracefully around.

Then she bends forward at the waist, and her bent leg comes up behind her. She’s still balancing on her toe but comes down slowly. She folds out of that pose and flows into another one. Her gaze is locked on herself in the mirror.

She wears athletic shorts and a cropped top, and it paints every muscle in sharp relief. The harsh lights and shadows help give her a dangerously fragile appearance. Like that of a bird about to take flight.

The music pauses and loops, the piece beginning again.

Violet seamlessly moves into a dance, and I don’t know if she’s making it up as she goes or if this is a piece of old choreography that she’s clinging on to… either way, I’m ensnared.

Which is the last thing I want to be.

When I blink, I see her in the car again. Broken and bleeding.

Then I blink again, and I see the arc of the crowbar coming down on Jack’s knee.

Again, and Violet is up against a tree.

Again, and she’s in my car, blood welling up on her thigh.

I shake my head to dislodge those images.

The violence I crave versus the woman dancing before me.

“I see you,” she says. Her head whips around with each spin, up on her toe. She turns breathtakingly fast, but she doesn’t lose balance.

Not until I step into the room.

Then she falters.

“Afraid?”

She narrows her eyes. “No.”

The music loops again.

“What’s playing?”

“It’s the ‘Moonlight Sonata.’ The first movement.” She tilts her head. “How did you find me?”

I tap my chin, pretending to think while I step closer. I circle to her right, away from the mirrors. She turns, keeping me in her sights. Smart girl, to think that she’s in danger right now. I want her against the mirrors, I want her on the floor. I want to rip through the thin fabric of her shorts and make her walk home half-naked.

I want her humiliation and I want her pain.

But most of all, I want to know where my photo album is.

“You took something from me,” I say.

She smiles.

Smiles.

Goddamn, she’s beautiful.

“I know.”

I narrow my eyes. “I suppose you would.”

She sinks gracefully to the floor and begins to undo the ribbons around her ankles. “Whatever you want to do to me… I may as well take these off. They’re too expensive for you to ruin.”

“But your body isn’t?” I focus in on her, my lips curling.

Yes, something in the back of my mind hisses. Ruin her for anyone else.

“My body will heal.” She meets my eyes. “Unless you’re planning on breaking me again.”

I smile, too. I can’t help it. “When I break you, it won’t be your leg. Or your ribs. Or your vocal cords. It’s your mind I’m after, Violet. Your mind and your soul, because that black heart that beats behind your ribcage? That already belongs to me.”

I thump my chest.

She starts and rises, newly barefoot. Still graceful, even afraid.

Oh, the adrenaline. Another shot, better than a drug, flows through me. I inhale. She smells the same, floral and sweet, with an undercurrent of sweat. When I catch her, I’ll lick it from between her breasts. Between her legs, too.

There’s no part of her that’s safe from me.

And she knows it, judging from the way she’s suddenly trembling.

I raise my eyebrow. “What are you waiting for, Violet? You know this game.”

Still, she waits.

For me to give the order? For me to announce which version of the game we’re playing?

The one with no safe words. No protection.

It’s about time we stripped away those barriers.

I lean against the mirrors and fold my arms over my chest. She’s breathing hard, although I’m not sure if she realizes it. Her chest rises and falls rapidly. It’s an elixir I didn’t know I needed, so I open my mouth and give the only order she’ll listen to.