blinds my vision. “I thought we hired a waitress, not a whore.”
She swings her fist and slams it in my cheek. Hard. It barely hurts. That’s Omega. I can bleed to death, but I probably won’t feel the pain.
“You have no right to call me that!” She’s yelling, but it’s plagued with tremors and a deep, raw fear.
“Keep it up, beautiful.” I grin. “Taunt me, provoke me, and then show me that fucking fear and you’ll end up on the list of people who disappeared without a trace.”
Her red lips part. “You’re a monster.”
“And now you’re in the sights of this monster.” I approach her until not only I smell her fear but also some fruit perfume. There’s a slight tremor in her limbs, but Zoe keeps her ground and continues glaring at me.
There. The look that cut me deep at Nonna’s.
That look makes me want to dissect her, break her, and put her back together just so I can do it all over again. There’s no limit to all the things I want to do to her. Starting with those crimson lips.
I would say I’m sorry, only I’m not. She’s provoking me more than I care to tolerate. Not that I tolerate fucking much.
First, she has a bloody boyfriend who’s pussy enough to send her to work at a place like Le Salon. And now, Johnny.
Women – or people, in general – fear me and run. That’s been it for my entire life and on fucking repeat.
Zoe isn’t running away.
This blondie with the huge green gates is glaring at me head on even when she’s obviously scared.
That’ll be her doom. She should’ve run away. Those who do stay alive. She’s the only one who’s not running, and I want to bloody ruin her for it.
I cup her jaw. Her skin is soft and I have the urge to stroke it and learn every curve. “Dump the boyfriend. From today onwards, you’re mine.”
Those fuckable red lips part, but she soon clamps them shut and puffs her chest. “I’ll never be yours.”
“You work here and therefore, you’ll be whatever I fucking say you are.”
“No. I won’t.” She keeps her ground without as much as a blink.
“Because of your boyfriend?”
He’s such a fucking pussy. I might have been fantasising about killing him since she shot me down at the park. If I were him, I’d chain her to my bed, not send her somewhere where men can ogle her freely.
“What if it is?”
“You certainly didn’t care about the sorry fuck when you were all over Johnny.” I mock.
“Even if there wasn’t a boyfriend or Johnny, I’d never look at someone like you twice.”
“And why is that, beautiful?”
“Sure you got the looks, but on the inside, you’re nothing more than an empty monster who likes throwing his weight around for no reason other than you can.” She sighs with genuine sympathy. “I pity you.”
My lips move into an automatic smirk, but my vision darkens, and my grip on her jaw tightens. She whimpers and tries to struggle free. I slam my palm near her head, and the bang echoes around us.
I’m sure she sees the shift on my face because her lips press in a line and she stares up at me with fearful eyes.
“Keep it up, Zoe,” I say through my smirk. “The more you open that mouth, the more I think about fucking it.” I pause. “Let’s try it now, shall we? On your knees.”
She tries to wiggle from my grasp. I close in on her to keep her caged in place. She punches me in the gut and manages to slip from underneath my arm. Bloody fucking hell. She’s strong. Those are the movements of someone who had training.
The familiar rush of adrenaline fill my limbs. She might have the training, but nothing is a match for Omega.
Zoe darts towards the door, I clutch her by the hips from behind, pull her back, and swing her around. She yelps and thrashes while hitting my shoulder. It’s useless when her feet aren’t even touching the ground.
Her cheeks turn bright red. “Let me go or I'll scream the whole place down!”
“I told you.” I glue my lips to her ear and whisper, “I love the screaming.”
Her pupils dilate and her chest rises and falls with abandon as if she’s out from a marathon. Her tits push against the dress, drawing my attention to their perfect fullness.
She doesn’t stop struggling, but it isn’t so forceful. “There’s something wrong with you.”