hate me and love me, all at the same time,” I say, my words breathy.
“Those things aren’t mutually exclusive, you know,” is what he says in response to my statement. Not of course I don’t love you, silly little bird. The song ends and then starts all over again; it must be on repeat.
That’s an interesting fact to note about Oscar. Some people are playlist people, some are radio people with their custom Spotify stations, and others … are repeaters. I often listen to the same song on repeat for hours on end. Used to drive Penelope nuts.
And it’s something that Oscar and I have in common.
“So you’re in love with me?” I ask dryly, mouth hanging open as I lick the edge of my lip, Cal’s sweater bagging and hanging around my arms. He might not be a hulking monster like Vic or Hael, but wearing his sweater reminds me of how much bigger his muscles are. I need to start working out, like, yesterday.
“You’re bleeding,” Oscar replies, choosing instead to glance down at my pale thighs instead of answering my question. A slither of hot red liquid runs down and stains the tiled floor. Crap. In my frenzy to fight Oscar, I forgot to put my cup back in.
I glance back up at his face.
He likes the sight of it, the blood.
“And you’re deranged,” I quip back, but he just shrugs his shoulders. The way his hands are holding the white mug, they mimic the demon hands tattooed on his neck. The sight is eerie—especially with this creepy ass song playing on repeat. “Why are you always so goddamn mad at me? I get it: you didn’t want me in Havoc. Too late. Blood in, blood out, right?”
“So much blood,” Oscar says, looking back up at my face. “Is this a normal flow for you?”
I laugh then, because I know he’s just trying to needle me, get underneath my skin like a worm and crawl. I hate to admit that it’s working.
“I’ve had an irregular period since I was twelve. Find another target to attack, you dick.”
Oscar sets his mug on the counter and then starts toward me. I forget sometimes how tall he is, since he’s always trying to keep his distance. He puts his right hand on the counter and leans over me.
“I wasn’t attacking; I was admiring,” tells me, and my body ripples with an emotion that feels like fear and lust, all twisted into one unspeakable thing. I can smell Oscar now, that spicy-sweet scent of cinnamon wafting over me.
“Admiring my period? Man, you’re creepier now than you were at the house.” I lean back, so that I can meet his eyes. My gaze traces the sardonic smile on his lips, one that radiates bemusement and superiority both. It occurs to me that I’m standing in a dark kitchen, having a casual conversation with a man that killed two people just hours prior. Also, I’m bleeding everywhere. Really, I should just haul my ass to a bathroom.
“Am I though? Creepy?” he asks, reaching up with his left hand and dragging his knuckles through the air next to my face. I notice that he doesn’t touch me, even as close as we are. Oscar is aware of every breath. “You look at me the same way, you know, with that dichotomous intensity.”
I exhale, and then draw in a huge inhale. My chest inflates, my sweatshirt-covered breasts brushing up against Oscar’s bare skin. But just barely. Just barely. He registers it though, and shudders.
“Why are you always so pissed at me? Seriously, I want an answer, and I want it right now.” Oscar turns his head, watching the darkness behind me. A ripple passes through me, one that speaks of creeping predators and shadows. It’s Vic, I know it is. He watches us for a moment before heading upstairs to the bathroom.
“Jesus, Bernadette, there’s blood everywhere,” he calls down, but I ignore him. I was going to clean it up, but eh, it’s his problem now. If he wants to be my husband, he can deal.
“Why am I pissed at you?” Oscar asks with a sharp laugh. I notice he doesn’t put any space between us. My eyes find his pierced nipples, drifting lower and wishing I could see his pierced cock, too. “Because of that.” He points toward the staircase and frowns, nice and violent. “Victor doesn’t treat you well. None of them do. Why do you reward them with your affection? It disturbs me,