Page 5 of My Violent Valentine
I get up and stretch like a cat and stare at myself in the full length mirror. I turn to look at the word “Mine” that Brian carved into my back almost a year ago. I don’t like how much the scars have faded. They’re still very visible, but not like after he first did it.
I take a quick shower and dress like I’m going out on a kill. I’m not—at least I don’t think so—but I feel like black leather today.
When I get upstairs, the breakfast buffet is still up. It’s fruit and cinnamon rolls day. There’s also sausage for some reason. Maybe she’s trying to offset the sugar and protect us all from diabetes. That’s Phyllis, always looking out for us. If it weren’t for the strict gym routines around here, I would have gained fifty pounds.
I pour a black coffee and grab a piece of sausage, a bowl of blueberries, and a cinnamon roll. I sit at a table near the sliding glass door where I can look out at the back patio. Once winter really hit, the pretense of keeping the pool heated was gone. Nobody is getting out in this frigid weather to swim. Even if the pool was warm, the water would freeze into solid form on your skin as soon as you got out.
You’d think they’d cover the pool, or drain it, but nope. It’s a frozen sheet of ice. It probably isn’t frozen that deep. Definitely not enough to ice skate on, which would almost make this dystopian icy hellscape worth waking up to every morning.
I briefly think of ice skates and fantasize about how I could work that into a kill. I’m clearly getting an odd brand of cabin fever.
The other girls are looking forlornly out the window at the frozen pool, too. Birds keep landing on it and slipping and sliding on the ice. I feel the chill in the room before I turn to see Brian across the cafeteria. I always feel him before I see him, and I’m not the only one. His sleek dark energy enters a room well before he does. He loads up a plate with nothing but sausage.
Mmmm, sausage. I stare at his ass as he pours his coffee, then he joins me at the table.
“Got enough sausage there?” I ask.
“Oh, I’ve got plenty of sausage here,” he says, the innuendo thick in his voice.
I laugh. “Don’t tease me. It’s not even ten a.m. yet. I thought you would have had breakfast by now.”
“I did. I had a hard work out. Just loading up on protein.”
He stares at my cinnamon roll, and I suddenly realize, he wants it. Brian usually has saintly self-control when it comes to sugar. I tear a piece of the cinnamon roll off, the warm icing dripping down my finger.
His pupils dilate as he watches me put it in my mouth and lick off the icing. Then I pull off another piece and offer it to him.
“I really shouldn’t…”
“Come on… live dangerously for once.”
He smirks and opens his mouth to let me feed him. I gasp as his warm tongue swirls around and sucks on my finger to take the last bits of icing.
“Now don’t you feel better?” I ask.
His gaze drops to my cleavage. “Not even a little.”
“What are your plans for the day?”
“I’m wide open,” he says.
“Hmmm. Meet me in our room in thirty minutes. And don’t be late. You know how I hate that.”
I take my plate and coffee and leave him staring after me. I feel the eyes of the other girls on me as well. My relationship with Brian is the topic of endless gossip and speculation at the house, but I’m sure our table is far enough away from the others that no one but us heard our conversation. Though it’s possible they could still detect something—something that might make me seem less than the “Good Girl” I supposedly am with Brian.
He may have refused my initial offer around the holidays to take control in private. Maybe it just felt too big, too formal. What are the rules? What are the boundaries? What if it’s too much? What if it’s too little? What if we can’t go back?
Since then we’ve slowly shifted into a softer version of my original offer. It just happened. It just evolved.
A lot of things seem to be evolving.
3
BRIAN
I glance at my watch before heading downstairs. Part of me wants to punish Mina for skirting the edges of our agreement outside the dungeon. She was discreet, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not sure even the best acting performance by both of us could ever change who has the real power here.
And even though I didn’t know it at the time, she had it from the moment I first saw her—the night I brought a tray of food up to the damaged, terrified woman in the tower, the night I saw the scars monsters very much like me left on her back. Everything else has been mere pantomime.