Trembling With the Strings

I closed the door behind me, storming down the hall. That last thing had been check-marked! Just when had they planned on telling me?

All I wanted to do was hurl every word I knew right at his pretty little face. How could he even consider something so—so awful?

I saw him sitting in one of the spare bedrooms talking to his disgusting little cousin. Bryce saw me first and smirked, pointing me out to my monster of a lover. I probably looked ready to kill.

“You so sure of that, Dray?” he muttered, an amused look plastered to his face. I would have smacked him, but Darius had my full attention.

“What the fuck is your deal?” I hissed, jerking Darius off of his lazy ass. I was too pissed off to care about any possible consequences. He scowled.

“What are you going on about now? You do not speak to me that way—”

I cut him off. “No! How could you? I’m not being a filthy leech!” He stared at me blankly.

“What?” He pulled me into his arms, refusing to let go despite my desperate squirming.

“You know what!” I shrieked. “I read Marcy’s wedding plans. Why would you make me a bloodsucker the second I said, ‘I do’?” My anger had completely converted to misery. He narrowed his eyes at me, probably seeing the sudden weakness. “I think I deserve to hear it from you,” I mumbled, pulling myself from him and walking out the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Darius growled, grabbing my wrist and jerking me to him. He slammed the door. “You think you can belittle me in front of Bryce, and then just walk away?”

I tried to tear myself away, but he grabbed my left hand, kissing it roughly. My nose scrunched up in disgust as he kissed up me arm and to my neck.

“Grace, it doesn’t matter if you want to be like me or not. The second you agreed to marry me you gave me control, understand? And I’m not having some eighty-year-old broad as my wife. But on the bright side we can’t get married for nearly a year, so you’ll be seventeen. Marcy made me promise to wait, so be grateful.” He nipped at my neck, smirking against the skin.

I made a face, shoving him off. He scowled, but I couldn’t have cared any less if I had tried.

“I will never be grateful to the likes of you,” I hissed.

“See if I care. And, oh, I’ve been thinking. Since you love me so much, I think I’ll move our wedding day up to your birthday instead of two months later.” He smiled the creepy smile I hated.

“Go fuck yourself,” I growled, taking my leave of him.

“Why? That’s what you’re for, bitch,” he called after me, walking back into Bryce’s room.

The door slammed shut, and I collapsed to the floor, throwing my face into my hands and bawling.

Maybe some people never change.