crossing the house to the kitchen, and as expected she was in there.
As soon as she saw me in the threshold, she grabbed a cleaver that had been mounted on the wall over the counter. “Don’t come any closer. I’ll kill you, I swear it.”
A smile spread across my lips. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s not fight. Put down the knife.” Aside from my concern that she might trip and accidentally stab herself, I wasn’t concerned about the knife. I could easily disarm her, especially since her hands were trembling; she barely had a grasp on it.
She began waving the knife wildly in front of her. “Don’t call me sweetheart! Or love, or darling or anything like that. My name is Emily. Emily! My name is Emily!”
I advanced on her three steps, spreading my hands out, palms up to show I was unarmed. She took three back, keeping the kitchen island between us.
“I mean it!” Her eyes grew wild as she frantically looked for an escape. Unfortunately for her, the only way out was through a window or past me. Neither option was too appealing to her, I’d imagine.
Fuck, this was fun. Perhaps not for her, but I was having a wonderful time.
“And I believe it,” I assured her. Three more steps forward and she took three more back. “Okay, I admit I was an asshole. Maybe I should have stuck around and cuddled. Is that the issue?”
“Cuddle? Are you kidding? Are you insane?”
I shrugged, clucking my tongue off the roof of my mouth as if I were pondering the question. “Some would say so, yes. I think psychopath would be the correct term, but I suppose I also have a touch of narcissism and maybe a little OCD. They all kinda come as one big old package, really, in most cases.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth made a large O shape as if she couldn’t believe I was openly admitting those things about myself.
“You don’t agree?”
“You’re sick, Tanner. There’s something in you.” She wagged the cleaver at me as I took another step toward her.
“In me?” I tilted my head to the side, eyeing her. “That’s a curious thing to say. What do you mean?”
“My father believes people like you have demons in them. He’s right, isn’t he?” Even as she said the words I could see she didn’t believe them. She wanted to believe it, maybe so she could justify my behaviour, hard to say, but she didn’t believe it – not really.
“Holy shit on a cracker. Are you fucking serious? Have you lost your fucking mind already? Like demons, like I’m possessed? Is that what you’re saying?”
She scowled at me. “Maybe.”
“Really?”
She closed her eyes for a moment and gave her head a shake as she opened them. “I don’t know. I don’t—”
I didn’t even pretend to be stalking her any longer. Instead I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back against the kitchen counter. “Come on. Let’s get real for a second. You know as well as I do most of what your father preaches is complete bullshit. Heaven and Hell and purgatory and demons and angels. Come on.”
“No, no.” She actually advanced on me, the knife in front of her. “You’re not turning this around. You’re not making a mockery of my beliefs.”
“But are they really your beliefs? Or is it just a lifetime of brainwashing?”
“How dare you talk of brainwashing when you have Victoria in the basement?” She came around the corner of the counter, the knife waving; seemingly in her outrage she’d forgotten she should be scared and running from me. The anger that had flared up in her eyes was fucking sexy, making me want to pull her into my arms and devour every inch of her with my lips and hands. And I had to admit, she looked adorable in my shirt. So adorable I’d have considered having regular old vanilla sex with her.
I smirked. “Yes, and once I sell Victoria, perhaps your sister can take her place.” The sentence had barely left my lips when she released this ungodly screech and lunged at me, knife swinging. Either I’d
As soon as she saw me in the threshold, she grabbed a cleaver that had been mounted on the wall over the counter. “Don’t come any closer. I’ll kill you, I swear it.”
A smile spread across my lips. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s not fight. Put down the knife.” Aside from my concern that she might trip and accidentally stab herself, I wasn’t concerned about the knife. I could easily disarm her, especially since her hands were trembling; she barely had a grasp on it.
She began waving the knife wildly in front of her. “Don’t call me sweetheart! Or love, or darling or anything like that. My name is Emily. Emily! My name is Emily!”
I advanced on her three steps, spreading my hands out, palms up to show I was unarmed. She took three back, keeping the kitchen island between us.
“I mean it!” Her eyes grew wild as she frantically looked for an escape. Unfortunately for her, the only way out was through a window or past me. Neither option was too appealing to her, I’d imagine.
Fuck, this was fun. Perhaps not for her, but I was having a wonderful time.
“And I believe it,” I assured her. Three more steps forward and she took three more back. “Okay, I admit I was an asshole. Maybe I should have stuck around and cuddled. Is that the issue?”
“Cuddle? Are you kidding? Are you insane?”
I shrugged, clucking my tongue off the roof of my mouth as if I were pondering the question. “Some would say so, yes. I think psychopath would be the correct term, but I suppose I also have a touch of narcissism and maybe a little OCD. They all kinda come as one big old package, really, in most cases.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth made a large O shape as if she couldn’t believe I was openly admitting those things about myself.
“You don’t agree?”
“You’re sick, Tanner. There’s something in you.” She wagged the cleaver at me as I took another step toward her.
“In me?” I tilted my head to the side, eyeing her. “That’s a curious thing to say. What do you mean?”
“My father believes people like you have demons in them. He’s right, isn’t he?” Even as she said the words I could see she didn’t believe them. She wanted to believe it, maybe so she could justify my behaviour, hard to say, but she didn’t believe it – not really.
“Holy shit on a cracker. Are you fucking serious? Have you lost your fucking mind already? Like demons, like I’m possessed? Is that what you’re saying?”
She scowled at me. “Maybe.”
“Really?”
She closed her eyes for a moment and gave her head a shake as she opened them. “I don’t know. I don’t—”
I didn’t even pretend to be stalking her any longer. Instead I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back against the kitchen counter. “Come on. Let’s get real for a second. You know as well as I do most of what your father preaches is complete bullshit. Heaven and Hell and purgatory and demons and angels. Come on.”
“No, no.” She actually advanced on me, the knife in front of her. “You’re not turning this around. You’re not making a mockery of my beliefs.”
“But are they really your beliefs? Or is it just a lifetime of brainwashing?”
“How dare you talk of brainwashing when you have Victoria in the basement?” She came around the corner of the counter, the knife waving; seemingly in her outrage she’d forgotten she should be scared and running from me. The anger that had flared up in her eyes was fucking sexy, making me want to pull her into my arms and devour every inch of her with my lips and hands. And I had to admit, she looked adorable in my shirt. So adorable I’d have considered having regular old vanilla sex with her.
I smirked. “Yes, and once I sell Victoria, perhaps your sister can take her place.” The sentence had barely left my lips when she released this ungodly screech and lunged at me, knife swinging. Either I’d
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