The next morning, I wake up alone. The empty king-size bed leaves me cold despite the thick comforter swallowing my still bare body. Waking up without the person I fell asleep with isn’t exactly the best feeling, especially since I know this guy doesn’t have a job.

I roll out of his bed with a groan and let myself fall onto the floor with a thud. Pain resonates through my body as I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.

Fuck.

I sit up and run my hand through the long hair on the top of my head. What the hell am I even doing here? I keep asking myself that question and coming up with some bullshit answers. Trust me, it’s as repetitive for me as it is for you. We’re both just as annoyed.

I wrap my arms around myself and rub my hands up and down my arms. The cement floors only radiate the chills that rack my body. I should get dressed, but I need some new clothes. I don’t really want to wear the same ones for the third day. That’s just kind of gross.

I also need to find my piercings. One got pulled out during sex, so Brennan had me remove the rest. I couldn’t tell whether he was looking out for me and my belongings or just making sure that we weren’t interrupted again. He did seem pretty irritated that I was losing jewelry pieces in his sheets.

As for clothing though, I’ll have to go shopping since I don’t really want to make a trip into hell just to get more clothes from my mom’s house. I’m not in the mood to deal with my over-bearing slut of a mother. Plus, some new clothes would be cool. Maybe it’ll make me feel more confident about myself—make me feel like I have control over my life. Being around Brennan makes me feel helpless. I keep finding myself bending over at his every wish. I’ve given in to everything he’s asked. It’s not good for me. I’m supposed to be the dominant one. I’m supposed to be the one who is in control. I think that’s what pisses me off most about Brennan.

Plus, I might meet someone at the mall. I need to find another guy to sleep with so I can crash at his place instead. I just need to get out of this fucking house and away from the piece of dog shit that lives here.

I get up from the floor and make my way to Brennan’s closet, planning to rob him of some items, but before I enter, something catches my eye. On his dresser sits a pile of clothes that look a fuck-ton like mine. I walk over to them, and what do you know? They are mine. There’s a note on top too, so I pick it up and turn it over in my hand.

“Washed them, thank me later,” I read off the small bright yellow square. I scoff and crush the note in my hand. That self-centered bastard thinks I should thank him after everything. I glance back at the pile of clothes out of the corner of my eye. Not only are my clothes there, but all my earrings are lined up nicely beside them.

It is kind of sweet...

I catch myself before I can carry the thought any further. No, he is not sweet. He is an evil bastard, incapable of having a heart. There’s absolutely no reason to even think about him in any other way, but the doubt still creeps into my mind.

I groan and grab the clothes from the dresser top. Fucker knows what to do to make me want to stay.

After I get dressed, I go downstairs, planning to just walk out as soon as possible, but my plans are short-lived when the smell of freshly cooked bacon wafts over my senses. Then, I’m lifted off my feet and pulled into the kitchen by my nose like some shitty cartoon written by artists on crack.

When I reach the kitchen, the first thing I see Brennan over the stove with a spatula, pushing strips of bacon around in a skillet. The sight of him immediately breaks the heavenly-smell-induced spell. It’s not all hatred flowing through my blood anymore; it’s also lust. It’s mostly lust. It’s entirely lust. He’s wearing this loose white shirt that just barely hugs what muscle he has, and he’s got on some gray sweatpants that make his dick look fantastic. Weirdly enough though, he’s also got his lab coat on.

I don’t entirely understand why he wears it. It’s not like he’s a doctor anymore, so why? Is he some mad scientist with a secret laboratory hidden in his basement or something? Actually, I’m not going to lie; I wouldn’t be surprised if that was, in fact, true.

I wander over silently and pull out one of the bar stools from under the island overhang. I take a seat as I watch him get out a plate. He places some bacon on it along with some scrambled eggs then turns around briefly to slide it across the island to me. I don’t make a move to catch it, though. I just watch as it slides past me and tips off the edge of the surface. With a loud clatter, it shatters against the ground, leaving food everywhere and drawing Brennan’s attention back to me. I look up to him, and he stares back at me with a look of dumbfounded awe. He doesn’t say anything. He just continues to stare in exasperation.

It’s like some weird staring contest; which dumbass calls bullshit first?

It’s easy for me to look away after that realization. I don’t want to play along with his childish games. They make me look desperate.

I decide now would be a good time to go. I can practically see his mind stirring as he prepares to call me out, but honestly, I really don’t want to deal with it. I don’t want to deal with him any longer (as if stabbing him wasn’t already testament to that), but Mr. Entitled over here obviously can’t take a hint. I would like to believe that that whole situation was entirely his fault. I would also like to think that I only stayed because he manipulated me, not because I am heavily thirsting after him, but somewhere deep inside, I know I’m lying to myself as if he didn’t give me the best night of my life. Anyway, like I said, I don’t want to deal with this shit anymore, and it’s time for me to nope out.

“I’m going to the mall; see ya,” I declare suddenly. I get up from my seat and dash out of the kitchen immediately after, leaving him no time to respond or even take a breath. I dart down the hall and reach for the door, but as soon as my fingertips brush the handle, I hear Brennan call out to me from where I just left.

“Be back before dinner!” he shouts expectantly.

“I’m not your kid!” I yell back as a blush involuntarily fills my face. I swear under my breath before stepping through the door and slamming it behind me. Of course, just closing a door doesn’t free me from the new and intrusive thoughts that are going through my head.

Be back before dinner? What did he mean by that?

Could it be that he was genuinely being sweet? He did wash and fold my clothes for me this morning, and he did attempt to make me breakfast, the emphasis being on ‘attempt’. Then again, he also restrained me, called me a brat, and completely disregarded anything I said. Okay, the restraining part was sensible; I did stab him, but that last part was completely uncalled for! You know, he didn’t even let me introduce myself, and thinking about it now, I don’t even recall ever giving my name to him. He doesn’t even know my name! What makes him so sure I’m going to come back for dinner, huh? Nothing’s stopping me from just forgetting about him entirely... almost.

Why do I keep telling myself this? Why do I keep lying to myself saying that I won’t come back? I will. I know I will. I’m even planning to. I’ve already subconsciously sorted out what stores I need to hit up first to be back before four. I know I’ll just come right back here. I will because, despite the bullshit, I’m intoxicated.

I’m an addict for thrills and pleasures. I can’t help myself to everything that hurts me. I can’t help myself when presented with a good time and a little challenge. I can’t ever resist the pleasure, and in the name of the High Demons themselves, he gave it to me.