Cult

5: Bloody Harry Ω

It isn't blood. It can't be blood. It was probably Kool-aid that he drank during lunch and it happened to spill on his hands.

Zayn tugs my hand and leads me inside. I shake my head, clearing my mind of my racing thoughts. My eyes wander to the phone screen of the man to my right. I suck in a breath as I recall the news cast from this morning.

“Did you watch the news?” Zayn and I speak in sync. He laughs. I lean closer to him.

“Yes,” I squeak at the thought of the man outside being part of the cult described on the news. There's no way anyone in the cult would go out into the broad daylight so easily.

Zayn takes my hand in his and rubs it gently. Oddly enough, I find myself smiling. If it comes down to Zayn or the killers, I will obviously choose Zayn.  Even though I will never form any sort of emotional bond to him, I know he would do his best to protect me.

“It was terrifying,” I whisper. “Seven girls have been killed already!”

“What?”

“The cult of killers murdered them!” I whisper loudly. “Bloody Harry.”

Zayn stares me. His dark lashes curl as he watches my face. “What are you talking about, Kat? I was asking if you saw your dad’s commercial,” he explains plainly. He looks at me worriedly.

“What commercial?”

“Your dad’s campaign commercial. There’s a 2 second clip of me,” he nods proudly, taking a sip of his wine.

I slump lower in my seat. “Oh.”

“I looked sexy in my teal blue tie, didn’t I?” he smirks, leaning closer to me. Cold fingers glide up my thighs. I slap his hand away. He grits his jaw in annoyance.

After a few more minutes of fighting off his wandering hands, he calls for the check. The valet man drives Zayn’s car up to the restaurant entrance.

“Afternoon, Miss,” the blonde man winks, tipping his lilac snapback.

Zayn pulls out a ten from his wallet and holds it out to the vallet. The man stares at the money as though it were a foreign object. Then he glances up at me. “The eye candy is payment enough,” he winks. My gaze falls to the floor. Zayn stuffs the ten in the blonde man’s hand.

“I only pay with money,” Zayn hisses. He tugs me along, wrapping his arm around my bum as if attempting to cover me. I am about to swat his hand away when he pulled the car door open for me. Zayn drives me home in silence, but locks the door when we reach my house.

Zayn wraps his arms around my waist and tugs me into his lap. My skirt rides up and I try to pat it down, but Zayn grips my hips, forcing me to stay put.

“Mmm so soft, so untouched,” he whispers coolly. One of his hands slides down under my skirt, pressing to my thighs. A mixture of sensations ignite deep in my abdomen. I am fearful of his aggressive touch, and yet, there is a slow, soft ache I cannot deny...

I push at his chest and cross my legs. "I will remain untouched for as long as I wish,” I declare confidently.

Zayn leans closer to me. “Well I intend to be the first and only man to have you. Do you understand me, Kat?” He raises his dark, narrow brows.

My gaze darts downward.  “Yeah,” I lie. 

“I can’t wait until you’re 18,” he hisses harshly in my ear. My stomach churns uneasily. My birthday is tomorrow.

Zayn helps me out of his car, taking my hand and pressing his lips to it, gently, soothingly. I avoid his eyes. He drives off. I jam my key into the lock of my front door, eager to escape into the safety of my home.