A Hand in Hell

Chapter 7

"You're not trying to sneak out the window, are you?" I called dryly through the closed bathroom door, watching absently as the amber of scotch at the bottom of my glass became a small whirlpool. "You're more likely to get stuck than you are to actually escape."

"I'm not stupid," Dexter replied in a huff, and the sound of a zipper punctuated her sentence. "I know I wouldn't be able to fit."

I smiled at my little whirlpool. "Not that I would be able to hunt you down and punish you? Just that you wouldn't fit through the window?" I heard her heave an angry sigh, but the sound of a jingling bell quickly covered it. My smile widened — was she putting her collar back on? Just for me? "Are you ready yet?" I asked when she didn't answer, and the doorknob twisted in response. "Finally," I remarked wryly, grinning at her as she appeared in the hallway, her hair damp and stringy about her shoulders. "You've been in there forever." My eyes slid along her frame, taking in the sight of her own skinny jeans and pastel pink tank top, and I nodded my approval — but she wasn't wearing the collar. We would have to remedy that later. "You look much better in your own clothes. I'm glad I decided to grab them for you."

"They're not mine, actually," she said, and if looks could kill, I would've…well, I wouldn't have been dead, but I might have been gravely wounded by the intensity of her glare. "They're Vicky's."

She pushed past me and started down the hallway, heading toward the stairs, but I caught her wrist. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Downstairs," she answered, scowling at my fingers around her arm as she tried to pull free of my grasp and failed. "I'm hungry."

"Where's your collar?" I asked, and pursed my lips.

"In the trash in the bathroom," she said, still struggling to free herself, but to no avail.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not wearing it anymore," she snapped, raising her glare to my face. "Now let me go."

I clucked my tongue in disapproval, jerking her back toward me with a tug at her wrist, and I caught her other arm in the same hand as I slammed her back against the wall. "You forget your place so soon?" I half-asked, my eyes on my half-empty glass as I swirled my alcohol once more. She tried to pull free of my hold, tugging more and more forcefully, but though I held her wrists with only one set of frail-looking fingers, she didn't manage to wiggle more than a centimeter. "I wouldn't recommend fighting me so much," I drawled, my gaze flicking to her face, twisted in frustration. "You know I can do a lot worse than make you wear a collar with a cute little bell."

She huffed but stopped struggling, though she continued to glare at me. "Come on. Please, let me go. I just want to go eat something."

"Put the collar on, and I'll make you dinner," I said, releasing her wrists with what I hoped was an incredibly infuriating smile. It felt like sugar sprinkled on sprinkles sprinkled on a pound of vanilla icing in the shape of a flower atop a sixteen-layer cake of the sweetest chocolate — it made my cheeks hurt as much as my teeth would've after taking a bite of that shit.

"You're going to try to drug me or something, aren't you?" she grumbled, rubbing at her wrists as if I'd actually hurt her.

I waved a hand dismissively and downed the remainder of my scotch in a single gulp. "Drugs are for people who can't easily overpower their victims," I said, licking my lips. "But it could also be hilarious. Thank you for the idea, Dexter dearest. I'll be sure to implement it on one of my darker days." I gripped her shoulder and pulled her away from the wall, then gave her a little shove toward the open bathroom door. "Now, go. Get your collar. I want to hear you jingling while we go down the stairs." If looks could kill…But she headed obediently into the bathroom, and at the sound of the tiny bell, I smiled a smile that was bound to give Dexter diabetes when she saw it. "Good girl!" I chirped happily, giving her a pat on the head the second she reappeared in the hallway. "Now, let's go make you some dinner." I started down the hallway toward the stairs and grinned down at my glass, though the vast empty space nearly rent my heart in two. "What would you like to eat on this fine, fine evening, baby girl?"