Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 114247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
No…
And he was screaming in pain. Unable to stand what I assumed was happening in his head, I ran round to the far side of the bed. Flame’s face was scrunched up in agony. His eyes squeezed shut as he panted through his mouth. Then I looked down. He was excited. His manhood was erect and pushing against the material of his leather pants. Yet as excited as he appeared to be, the pain on his face, and the toe-curling tortured cries streaming from his mouth, told me he was anything but.
He was trapped.
He was trapped in his mind.
Reaching the head of the bed, I stood back and called out, “Flame!” His body thrashed still, so I inched closer. “Flame!” I tried again, but the cries from his lips were coming stronger, drowning out my voice.
Rushing to the very edge of the bed, I lowered my head and cried out “Flame!” for the third time.
This time Flame’s body bowed, his eyes snapped open, and on a loud roar, he leapt from the bed, his large hands landing on my arms. Flame’s huge strength pushed me backwards, until my back slammed against the wall, knocking the air from my lungs.
His fingers dug into my arms bringing tears to my eyes. I looked up to find his black eyes boring holes into mine. This was not the Flame I knew. This was killer. The Hangman with the blades.
With gritted teeth and a low growl of rage, his calloused hands began to move toward north. My stomach shredded when I realized he was going for my throat. He was going to choke me.
He meant to kill.
Closing my eyes, I tried to think of what would calm him down. But his hands had reached my shoulders. I racked my brain, searching for an answer, when all I could think of was what calmed me.
My entire body shook with fear, but I managed to inhale a deep enough breath to desperately sing, “This little… light of mine, I’m… gonna let it shine. This little light… of mine, I’m gonna… let it shine. This little light of… mine, I’m gonna… let it shine. Let it… shine, let it shine… let it shine…”
Flame’s hands stilled on the side of my neck as the words trailed off to a complete stop. His breathing was strained, the warm crackled puffs of air flowing over my face. I was frozen to the spot. But then his hands began to shake profusely, and as I forced myself to open my eyes, I was faced with two lost inky pools staring at me in confusion. I held my breath, as Flame’s eyes rapidly flitted from side to side. And then I saw it, a flicker of recognition jolting him from the darkness possessing his mind.
On a shocked hiss, Flame staggered backwards until he crashed against the far wall and he slumped to the floor. His hands lifted in front of his face, and he stared at them as if he could not believe what he had just done.
His hands lowered.
His lips shook.
And as those tired dark eyes filled back up with life, he paused in breathing, then whispered, “Maddie…?”
Chapter Eleven
Flame
I was in the Punishment Cellar and he’d come for me. I was in the darkness; I’d been there for a long time…
Above me I heard the hatch open. He jumped in beside me, the pale light from above making it easy for me to see the blade in his hands.
He stank of alcohol. And I could hear him breathing heavily. I heard him unbuckle his belt. I closed my eyes when he began to walk toward me. This time he didn’t give instruction, he just turned me round, removed my pants, spread my legs, and pushed against me.
I gritted my teeth when the pain came. My fingernails scraped against the walls, as I tried not to cry out. Then came the blade, scraping down my back. I felt the blood begin to pour; I felt better. It still hurt, but he was freeing me from the flames, from the evil within. He said he was taking the evil from my flesh.
He grunted in my ear and his breath washed over my face. It stank of the alcohol he always drank. It made me feel sick. But I couldn’t be sick or he would get angry.
Then he moved faster. It hurt more and more. My hands trembled against the wall, but he didn’t stop. He kept on pushing harder, the blade slicing along my skin, freeing the flames. Then he dropped the blade and his hands gripped my hips, fingers digging in deep. I hated him touching me. I had evil in my veins, and it took her from us. He’d told me it was why she was gone—because of my touch. That the flames within me infected her, making her think evil thoughts… making her do that sinful thing that left us alone together.
I tried to breathe. I tried to open my mouth, to tell him not to touch me or he would be infected too, but he slammed into me one more time, shouting in my ear as he pressed me against the wall.
I waited for him to move, not wanting his chest to touch my back. He staggered back and I dropped to the floor. I glanced round. I could see him standing, looking down at me. His fists were clenched. Automatically, I covered my head with my arms. He normally hit me. He would get angry after he took me, saying it was needed for my soul.
Suddenly, he spit at me, the wetness hitting my cheek. “You evil fucking retard!” he snapped, and kicked out his foot, hitting me on the leg. “It’s your fault she’s gone. She couldn’t stand that she’d created you.”
My heart hurt at his words, feeling like something was cracking inside. I hadn’t wanted her to go. I loved her, she was kind to me. I didn’t want to have the flames in my blood. But I couldn’t get them out. I tried to scratch them out. But no matter how much blood fell to the ground, I could still feel the flames underneath my skin. Burning fire scalding my flesh.