Chapter Twenty-Four

We spent the rest of the day meeting up with potential victims whose names could be called out during the selection ceremony tomorrow. Inanis mentioned nothing more about visiting his father's grave, and I didn't bring it up. He tried so hard to seem unaffected by it, that I could see right through it.

His father must have meant something to him, and yet he had to kill him anyway.

That would mess anyone up, no matter who they were.

We ended up dining with a few politicians at another fancy restaurant where Inanis refused to eat as he basked in the fear of the people around him.

As dramatic as it all was, -and yes, the mayor of a small town in Mississippi cried and didn't bother to hide the mascara running down her cheeks- I was beginning to get numb to all of it.

All of it.

It seems Mr. Rodney hadn't kept his mouth shut about going to Inanis and begging for his life, so now all the crooked politicians decided it was a grand idea to do the same.

I had to commend Inanis for his patience, but I also had to give credit to these politicians who were brave enough to face Inanis head-on.

"Today was a waste." Inanis exhaled a breath, as we finally arrived home, and walked together into the entryway. As much as I hated this overly-sized home, I had to agree, it felt good to be back.

Today was a major waste.

"Do you really have no idea whose name is going to be called tomorrow?" I asked him, not sure if I actually wanted to know the answer or not.

"I'm the killer, not the chooser. I don't judge who is nastier, I only fix the one who is picked."

I snorted, "And by fix you mean gutting them with your silly little kitchen knife."

He put his hand on his chest with what I believe was genuine shock, I'd actually be amused if we weren't talking about a real weapon. "My darling cleaver is not a mere kitchen knife."

I rose my eyebrows in mock surprise, "Oh right, my bad, it's your stupid little toy."

"You have no culture."

I sighed, too exhausted to play his little games. "You and I share no culture, Inanis."

"You are as American as I, so I object."

"Ever since you came along, America has gone to shit."

He seemed to consider this before replying, "I've only ever killed the bad politicians. The one who hurt this country, so really, your definition of shit, and mine, are two totally different shits."

I stared at him for a long, insufferable moment, before sighing once again. God, I'm exhausted. "Whatever," I tell him, "I'm going to bed."

"And if you go to bed, who will accompany me?"

I didn't bother to look back at him as I began to walk up the stairs, "You're a big boy, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

He grabbed my arm, spinning me to face him, and I was getting very, very tired of him doing that. "But have you forgotten, I am a mere child in this scary world." He leaned forward, "Sleep with me."

I swallowed my insult, "You aren't a child, Inanis, and no, I don't want to sleep with you."

"I don't mean actually sleep with me, I mean sleep with me in our bed in our bedroom." He gave me a wide grin, "I promise I won't touch you unless you touch me first."

I narrowed at him, "No."

"Then I suppose I'll sleep in the guest bedroom with you." He pushed past me before I could say no once more.

And then I realized he was actually going to do just that.

I quickly chased after him, "You are not sleeping in the guest bed, I don't want to share with you!" I call after him as I run into the guest bedroom where he was already laying in bed.

"This bed is so much smaller," He says, with a fake pout, "I wonder how on earth you'll survive being so close to me."

I grit my teeth.

Be kind, be kind, be kind.

"Get out."

He waves his hand at me, as he stares up at the ceiling, "I don't really want to, so no."

"Inanis Messor I swear to God-"

"Ooh." He spared me an obnoxious glance, "You used my full name, that's very sexy. I feel intimidated, I like it. Say it again."

I stare at him, and I'm pretty sure if death had a look, mine would be it.

And no, it didn't faze him.

"You know," He says as he waved his hand in the air towards the ceiling like he was instructing an orchestra, "You look less like a rat when you're mad. It's very becoming on you, if I wasn't a murderer myself, I'd be genuinely scared of your potential to kill me."

That caught me off guard, and for a moment, a bit of my anger dissolved, "Was that a compliment?"

"It certainly could be."

"Your compliments aren't going to earn you a ticket in bed with me."

"Then perhaps they will earn me a quick ticket between your legs?"

My annoyance came flooding back, as I pointed at the door, my tone flat, "Get out."

He sighed but didn't move an inch.

I was getting exhausted and very, very irritated, and Leech even curled up in a ball at the end of the bed and began to fall asleep.

And then Inanis closed his eyes pretending to sleep and I stopped caring.

I wasn't going to let him annoy me.

I muttered a very nasty insult at him, as I walked over to the closet, grabbed my sleepwear, and walked out of the room without saying another word.

I headed down into Inanis's bedroom, our bedroom, and slammed the door as loud as I could muster. Knowing very well that he was probably smiling to himself as he heard it.

I quickly changed my clothes and slipped under the blankets.

I knew this was what Inanis wanted, but there was no way in hell I was going to sleep in the guest bed with him when it was half the size of this bed.

Laying my head down, I couldn't help but remember what happened the last time I was in this bed. I frantically shook my head, refusing to let myself relive it, even through memory.

God, even the sheets smell like him.

There was an abrupt scratching noise coming from the door. I glanced over my shoulder, to stare at the closed door with a frown.

And then a heard a soft whine, followed by more scratching.

Oh, right, I forgot about Leech.

I sat up in the bed, ready to get up and let him in when the door suddenly opened, and Leech ran in, accompanied by Inanis, who slipped in and shut the door behind him.

"You left your child with a murderer while he slept. What an interesting mother you're going to be."

My shoulders slumped, "Thank God I'll never be a mother then."

"Never is a nasty word."

I didn't bother to argue with him, as I laid back down, and shoved my face in my pillow.

I felt Inanis climb into the bed with me and slide under the blankets.

The moment he got comfortable, his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask him, as I try to scoot away from him, but he wasn't letting go.

"Don't be rude." He says, "I'm trying to sleep."

"Let go of me." I could feel his breath on my neck, and I was struggling to keep my mind focused.

"If you want my arm off, then push it off."

I immediately gripped his wrist, ready to push his arm off, but something came over me. Something traitorous and foreign. I was pissed off and wanted to do nothing but hurt him, causing me to let go of his wrist, and instead, roll over to look at him. To glare at him.

Though the room was dark, I could see the outline of his face. His eyes staring straight into mine.

I huffed, gritting my teeth, "I hate you."

"I'm beginning to think that's your own way of saying you have quite a few nasty fantasies about me in your sleep."

Thank god it was dark, because my face heated up, "I do not have disgusting fantasies of you."

"Liars are gross."

"Shut up."

He shifted closer. Our bodies were less than an inch away from touching. I could feel the warmth of his body so close to mine and it was intoxicating.

This man is poison.

"Whoever you choose tomorrow," I tell him, "I'm going to hate you for it."

"Oh yes," He replies, his voice mesmerizing, "I know that."

"That doesn't mean I don't hate you now."

"I know."

"You're the fucking worst."

"I know."

"I wish you were dead."

"I know."

"You-" I struggled to come up with any pathetic insult my brain could muster, "You-" I could feel his hand sliding under my shirt and my breath got stuck in my throat.

The voice in my head was screaming for me to push him away, to get out of the bed and sleep on the couch in the living room. Anywhere where he wasn't.

I should do that. I should get up right now. Push him away and leave.

I should leave. I should leave. I should leave.

Instead, I licked my lips, "Inanis?"

"Yes, Mirea?"

Mirea. Mirea. Mirea. Mirea.

"Don't do that."

"Don't do what?"

"Call me by my name."

His hand traveled dangerously close to between my legs. "You don't like your name?"

I blinked, dazed, "I don't like it when you say it."

"Why not?"

"Because I hate you."

He was quiet for a moment, all I could hear was his breathing, or maybe it was mine. "You prefer to be my rat." He said it not as a question, but a statement. A fact.

I swallowed, "I prefer to be anything but Mirea with you."

His hand suddenly slipped between my legs and I bit my lip from squeaking like a frightened child.

I am not a child.

And there's no way in hell I was going to allow Inanis to make me feel like one.

I shoved myself up on top of him. Not sure what exactly I was doing, but I knew it felt right.

I knew this was the only thing I wanted right now.

He didn't look surprised, he looked ready, like he was waiting for this, like this whole time of him teasing me was a ploy to get me to do just this.

He had baited me to start the game, and I had fallen for it. Normally I'd be angry, but at this moment I didn't care.

Our lips met and he gripped my shirt, forcing my chest against his as I felt his fingernails dig into my hips.

My brain was swirling with thought after thought. Contradiction after contradiction. I wanted to hurt him, but I wanted to feel him. I wanted to hit him, but I wanted to kiss him harder and harder and harder.

I wanted to make him bleed, but I also wanted to make him mine.

My father would be so disappointed with me if he knew what I was doing right now. He would be ashamed; he wouldn't be able to look at me.

I dug my fingernails into his arms. His head rolled back against the pillow.

"I remember you once said you hated pain." I tell him, forcing my nails into his skin, knowing it hurt, knowing any second he would bleed.

I thought about the scars my nails would leave, staying on his skin for the rest of his life. My mark, proof I had once hurt him, that I had once caused him to bleed.

For a moment, I thought I wanted that, but then he spoke, "How on earth could you ever hurt me?"

I blinked, "Am I not hurting you now?"

"I think you could slice off my limbs and rip my eyes from my sockets and I'd still enjoy your lips on me."

I couldn't help it, I couldn't stop it, I smiled, "You're insane."

He took a deep breath, "Sometimes you make me feel sane."

"That's funny." I say, slowly releasing my nails from his skin, "Because it's definitely not true."

"Which isn't true?" He asked, as his hand glided up my bare arm, "That you make me feel sane? Or that I'd ever actually become it?"

Our eyes met, and I stared at him for a long, silent moment. My heart was racing in my chest, and I was plagued with a severe wanting but I didn't want to acknowledge it.

"Maybe," I finally say, as I got lost in the odd innocence in his eyes.

This man was anything but innocent.

But he seemed so young at this moment.

"Maybe," I say again, this time clearer, "We both are a bit crazy."

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he masked it with a slow, amused grin, "I've always known you were out of it, but I never thought you'd swallow your pride and truly admit you're mad."

"Shut up you idiot." I said, though the smile on my face widened, "Between the two of us, you're still the crazier one."

"Offensive, and I strongly disagree."

"Facts hurt sometimes."

He suddenly gripped the hem of my shirt, his eyes never leaving mine, "What would you do if I took all your clothes off right at this moment?"

My hands fell on top of his, I had to clear my throat twice before I could find the words to speak, "What would you do if you took all my clothes off right at this moment?"

The amused look on his face faded to a serious expression, "I don't know." He admitted, "I don't know what I'd do because I want to do everything, but also-" He seemed to struggle to say the words, "but also I find myself unable to act upon it." He released my shirt, and though I was sitting on top of him, his hands fell off of me completely.

I wasn't sure what suddenly made him doubt, and I knew I should be happy that he didn't want to go further.

I wasn't happy about it, and I hated that I wasn't.

"Why?" I questioned, because I was curious, and because I wanted to know how Inanis Vita Messor, the great American Bone Cutter, spoiled murderer who got whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, suddenly didn't have to guts to sleep with his own wife.

He took a deep breath, "Possibly because you're hideous." Of course, once again he got so close to showing his true feelings, his own insecurities. And at the last moment, as if a switch flipped, he decided to cover up his feelings with a lie.

It was so frustrating, I wasn't sure whether to laugh, or hit him.

I frowned, "Tell the truth."

"I'm sexually dysfunctional."

"Inanis-"

"I prefer men."

"I swear to God."

"I'm in love with someone else."

I planted my fists on his chest, unable to hit him, but definitely thinking about it, "Can you be serious for one second?"

"That sounds difficult."

I groaned, "Why do you do this? Why do you always bring up something personal, and then change your mind at the last second and lie?" I hadn't realized I was raising my voice, "You're so secretive, and you pretend to be some arrogant piece of shit rich boy, and the moment I think I'm understanding you, you seem to hint that there's more going on in your goddamn head." I poke his forehead. "Either show me your real self, or keep it hidden for good. Stop confusing me by only giving me pieces." I take a long, deep breath to calm myself, and reluctantly, I lower my voice to barely above a whisper, "I mean it when I say I hate you. I hate the Bone Cutter, I hate him so much I want him hurt, I want him broken, I wish he was dead." I think my voice begins to shake and I'm not sure why, "But you are not just the Bone Cutter, you are also Inanis, and I realize they are two separate beings. So, either show me Inanis, or show me the murderer, but I do not want both."

I attempt to get off of him, but he grips my arms so fiercely that I am unable to move at all. "Fine." He says, his voice different, all playfulness gone. "If that is what you want, then fine." He pushed me off of him so forcefully that it felt my arms had been bruised. I watched him arose from the bed, "Sleep well, rat." He grabs his coat and shrugs it on, "Tomorrow, I will be announcing The Bone Cutter's next victim." His eyes met mine, "My next victim. And then I'm going to fucking kill him. And I'm going to enjoy it, and you're going to watch me."

"You don't have to choose the Bone Cutter." I tell him, and for some reason my chest hurt.

"You're wrong." He walked towards the door, "There never was a choice." And he left, along with the hope that I realized I had somehow conjured, that maybe Inanis could become better.

I was wrong.