The Knife & Bone seems entirely too nice for soone like . The chandelier above us sprinkles diamonds of light across the dining area. Classical music plays softly in the background, the kind that makes you feel underdressed even in a thousand-dollar suit. All around us, powerful won in tailored business attire conduct etings over wine and steaks that cost as much as a car paynt.
Caterina sits across from , resplendent in her white suit that emphasizes her statuesque fra. Her crimson eyes gleam as she carefully cuts my steak into bite-sized pieces, her movents precise and loving. My useless hands rest on the table, the scars and surgical marks visible despite the dim lighting.
“Open up,” she says, lifting a perfectly cut piece of at to my lips.
I obediently part my lips, accepting the offering. The steak practically lts on my tongue, rich and perfectly cooked. I make an appreciative noise that seems to please her.
“Good, right?” she asks, her perfect teeth flashing white as she smiles.
“Yes,” I reply, watching as she takes a bite of her own steak, chewing thoughtfully.
Her eyes never leave my face, studying with that predatory intensity I’ve grown accustod to. Her head tilts slightly, her brow furrowing as she notices sothing in my expression.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, placing her knife and fork down with deliberate care. “You seem off.”
My stomach tightens with anxiety. Jessica’s face flashes in my mind, her suspicious green eyes, the way she looked at my hands with horror and pity. The conversation on the sidewalk plays on repeat in my head, each word, each glance between them, loaded with potential danger.
‘If I tell her I’m worried she’ll hurt Jessica, that might make it happen.’
“Nothing,” I lie, forcing a smile that feels plastic on my face. “Just tired, I guess.”
Caterina’s crimson eyes narrow slightly. She reaches across the table, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw with possessive tenderness.
“Adam,” she says, her voice dropping to that intimate register that makes my skin tingle, “you know you can’t lie to .”
I feel hot tears welling up in my eyes, blurring the elegant restaurant around . The thought pounds in my head like a heartbeat. It might be worth taking the hamr again if it keeps Jessica safe. My damaged hands throb with phantom pain at the re thought, but I’d endure it for my sister.
I say nothing, the words caught in my throat like fish bones.
Caterina sighs, clearly annoyed by my silence, as she spears another piece of steak with her fork. Despite her irritation, her movents remain gentle as she brings the at to my lips. The tenderness of her actions contrasts so sharply with the danger in her eyes that it makes my head spin.
“You’re afraid I’ll hurt your sister, right?” she asks.
I swallow hard, the perfectly cooked steak suddenly tasteless. “Yes,” I whisper, the confession hanging between us like a death sentence.
She leans in closer, her crimson eyes capturing mine with hypnotic intensity. The scent of her expensive perfu wraps around , both comforting and suffocating.
“And what? You thought lying to would keep her safe?” Her words slice through like the steak knife in her hand.
“Cat, please,” I blurt out, tears spilling down my cheeks before I can stop them. My voice cracks with desperation. “I know Jessica’s pushy, and I’m sure you found her annoying, but please just let her be. I’ll do anything. I’ll figure out how to keep her away, I swear. Just don’t hurt her.”
The words tumble out in a ssy rush, my damaged hands trembling on the table between us. The elegant restaurant fades around , the murmur of conversation and clink of silverware becoming white noise as I focus entirely on Caterina’s face, searching for any sign of rcy.
Caterina’s expression softens unexpectedly. She reaches across the table and gently wipes a tear from my cheek with her thumb.
“Adam, stop crying,” she says, her voice surprisingly gentle. “I’m not going to hurt your sister.”
She takes a sip of her wine, crimson eyes never leaving mine. “She’s not trying to fuck you, and she doesn’t have the resources to ‘save’ you,” she adds, making air quotes around the word “save,” her tone mockingly light.
Relief washes over like a wave so powerful it makes dizzy. My shoulders sag as the tension drains from my body, leaving feeling hollow and exhausted. I exhale a shaky breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Caterina’s crimson eyes gleam with sothing between amusent and danger.
“I will, however, add her to the list of people I’ll hurt if you ever try to run away from again,” she says casually, as if discussing favorite Lego sets rather than threatening my only sibling.
My stomach twists with anxiety, but strangely, I feel a bizarre sense of reassurance. This feels like a compromise. Jessica stays safe as long as I stay with Caterina. The boundaries are clear, the rules established. There’s comfort in knowing exactly where I stand, even if that place is terrifying.
“I can work with that,” I say optimistically.
Caterina’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise before her face breaks into a delighted laugh. The sound rings through the restaurant, turning heads at nearby tables.
“Well, well,” she purrs, cutting another piece of steak. “You seem to be warming up to your new life.”
Sothing shifts inside , a strange, twisted acceptance of my situation. I push my chair closer to hers, using just my legs since my hands are still practically useless. The scrape of the chair against the hardwood floor is jarring in the elegant restaurant, but I don’t care.
Caterina’s crimson eyes sparkle with amusent as she notices my awkward repositioning. “What’s this?” she purrs, her voice like warm honey. “Did you want to be closer to your mistress?”
I feel heat rise to my cheeks, but sothing has changed in . Instead of shrinking away, I et her gaze with newfound boldness.
“That’s what you want, right?” I say, my voice steadier than expected. “I want to be closer to you, and you want to want that. So if I feel like I should be closer but normally wouldn’t because I’d be nervous I’m annoying you... I should get over that insecurity and just get all up in your business, right?”
My rambling question hangs in the air between us, probably the longest string of words I’ve put together in weeks.
Caterina stares at for a long mont, her expression cycling from surprise to amusent to sothing deeper. She looks almost... exhausted by my overthinking yet chard by it at the sa ti.
With a fluid motion that reminds of a lioness, she leans forward and pulls even closer, her strong hand cupping the back of my neck.
“Adam,” she whispers, her breath warm against my ear, “I want you so close to I could wear you.”
An evil smile spreads across her perfect face, her crimson eyes glittering with possessive delight. The words should frighten , but instead, they make feel wanted. Appreciated. Loved.
Pure bliss washes over as she leans in and kisses , her lips claiming mine with reverent precision. The entire restaurant loses focus. There is nothing but Caterina and I.
When she finally pulls away, I feel dizzy, intoxicated by her presence more than any drug she’s ever given .
Caterina’s gaze locks with mine, her crimson eyes soft yet sohow demanding. “What do we say after our mistress graces us with a kiss?”
“Thank you, Cat,” I whisper, the words floating from my lips with genuine gratitude.
“Speaking of family,” I say, the question bubbling up to my throat, “what’s yours like? I an, I know your cousin is a race car driver, but what about your parents?”
Caterina sets down her wine glass, her expression shifting to sothing unreadable.
“Well,” she says with startling nonchalance, “once my father died of cancer, my mother was fucking useless, so I killed her and took over the family.”
The fork she’s holding hovers midway to my mouth, the perfectly cut piece of at suspended in the air between us. I stare at her, certain I’ve misheard.
“You... what?” I manage to stamr.
Caterina sighs impatiently and brings the fork to my lips. “Open,” she commands softly.
I obey automatically, accepting the morsel of food while my brain struggles to process what she’s just said. The steak is tender, lting on my tongue, but I barely taste it.
“You committed matricide?” I finally whisper, the words feeling woefully inadequate.
Caterina shrugs, taking another sip of her wine. “It’s not special,” she says matter-of-factly. “She killed her mother, and so on. It’s practically a family tradition.”
“Were you... were you close with your dad?” I ask, desperate to find so normalcy in this disturbing family history.
A shadow passes over Caterina’s perfect features, a flicker of sothing that might be genuine emotion before her mask slips back into place.
“Not really,” she admits, absently twirling her wine glass by the stem. “Mother kept him locked away most of the ti. I only saw him when she allowed it.”
I gulp audibly, my throat suddenly dry. The parallels between her father’s imprisonnt and my own situation aren’t lost on . Is this what she knows? Is this her understanding of love?
Caterina watches my reaction with those piercing crimson eyes, reading every microexpression that crosses my face. Her lips curve into a cheeky smile.
“Do you want kids, Adam?” she asks abruptly, her voice soft but intense.
I choke on my own spit, sputtering and coughing as panic floods my system. My damaged hands twitch uselessly against the tablecloth, unable to even grab a napkin to wipe my face. The thought of children, tiny, vulnerable beings completely dependent on us, sends ice through my veins.
How could I possibly keep them safe? What kind of life would they have with Caterina as their mother? Would they beco pawns in her twisted gas, or worse, would they beco like her? Images flash through my mind. A little girl with Caterina’s crimson eyes wielding a tiny hamr, a boy with my features trapped in casts, learning that pain is love.
“No,” I gasp once I’ve recovered from my coughing fit. “I’ve never really wanted kids.”
The lie cos easily, settling between us like a shield. I did want children once. Before hamrs and addiction and loving my captor beca my reality. Before I understood what monsters could look like.
Caterina studies for a mont. Then, her perfect lips curve into a satisfied smile.
“Good,” she says, reaching across to wipe a drop of water from my chin with her napkin. “No way I’m letting so entitled brat kill .”
“Your life sounds exhausting, Cat,” I say with a sigh.
“Yeah, it really can be.”
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