12. TWELVE

TWELVE

I wake up the next day with his body on top of mine, his hands inside my shirt, pushing it up over my tits. I'm naked from the waist down. I wonder for a minute if I'm dreaming while his thumbs run over the hard points of my nipples, but then I feel the head of his rock-hard dick between my legs, running down my wet center and over my clit.

It takes me a second to remember I'm dealing with Sebastian, not Bone Saw. Or that Bone Saw is Sebastian.

"Don't…"

"Shhh," he says, covering my mouth with his hand. He forces my legs further apart, groaning while he rubs his cock against my slit a few more times before he sinks into me, sucking in a breath through his teeth.

I gasp, my back arching off the bed when he fills me, moving his hips side to side until he's buried to the hilt.

"You should know that I like it like this. I waited as long as I could," he says, rocking his hips into me, slowly moving his thick cock in and out of me. "There's something about seeing you lying there helpless that just makes me…fuck, your pussy feels so good."

"Sebastian…" I moan.

"…Makes me want to rip you apart. And it's so easy to get you soaking wet like this, and then your legs fall open, and it just slides right in. Some girls say it hurts, you know. And I like that—knowing I'm hurting them with my big dick. You just grip it tight and come all over it. I have to work harder to hurt you."

Then, he lifts my legs together, throwing both ankles over his right shoulder, and begins thrusting into me hard.

"Fuck!" I cry out. "Fuck, it…feels so…"

It feels good. It hurts. Different sides of the same coin.

"You like that, baby? I'm still your master, Teagan," he grunts, slamming into me over and over again. "And you're still a little whore. I don't need to put on a mask to make that true. That means I get to do whatever I want to this pussy and this body."

"Ahh, fuck!" I bite my lip, my toes curling, as he rolls his hips, sliding in and out of me.

"You used to beg for my cock at the hospital. I used to stroke it while I watched you touch your pussy in the showers."

"Sebastian…oh my god…" I whimper, picturing him doing just that. "Your dick feels so…fucking…good."

He seems to like it because he picks up speed, pushing my shirt up around my neck before pinning my ankles together at my side on the bed. The other hand closes around my throat as my legs start to shake, and I come silently, unable to breathe or make any noise at all, on his dick.

"You're coming, aren't you?" he groans. "Fuck, I can feel it."

As my pussy throbs around him, spots start to cloud my vision, and I dig my nails into his arm. He releases his hold on my neck and as I gasp for air, he shoves his cock into my mouth, thrusting into me while I choke. He grunts, gripping my hair and stiffening, and hot spurts of cum coat my tongue and throat.

"Show it to me," he says, pulling his cock out. "Open your mouth."

I do ask he asks, opening my mouth so he can see the cum pooling on my tongue. He runs his fingers through it and then moves down my body and shoves them into my ass.

"Oh, god!"

"There you go, little monster; just relax. Some of this is going to hurt."

He leans in, licking and sucking my nipple while he pumps his cum-coated fingers in and out of my ass. I put my hands through his hair, holding him, letting myself believe for a minute that I'm with someone who cares about me because I can touch him; I can feel skin on my skin.

His mouth moves down my breast until he reaches my stomach and bites hard enough to draw blood.

"Ahh! Sebastian! Fuck!" I scream, wriggling beneath him. Tears well in my eyes while he sucks on that same spot.

"You wanted my mouth," he says. "Be quiet while I have my breakfast."

Sebastian sucks and bites at the wound for a few moments more before moving lower, his tongue trailing down my pelvis until he reaches my center. He licks up and down my sensitive pussy, moaning when he slips it inside me.

"It's too much," I whimper.

"No, it's not," he says. He moves his mouth to my clit, licking it, flicking it back and forth. He slips another finger into my pussy, fingering both holes while he works my clit with his tongue, rolling it between his lips before sucking it into his mouth.

"Oh, god…" I moan. I wriggle my hips against him, and my thighs fall apart wider. What he's doing with his hands feels fucking amazing, but his mouth…

My god, this should be illegal.

"Sebastian…I'm going to…I'm coming," I whimper, my core tightening until I come apart, writhing against his face and fingers. He watches me from between my legs, his cheeks hollowing as he licks and sucks me through it.

Then, he flips me over, lifting my ass into the air before pushing his hard cock into my pussy again.

"Get it nice and wet, little monster," he says. "You know where I want to come next."

"Sebastian…"

I grip the slats in the bedframe hard as he slips out of me and pushes his cock into my ass.

"Oh, god!" I cry out.

"If it hurts too much, let me know. I'll put you back to sleep. See how much I care about you, Teagan?"

His fingers dig hard enough into my hips to leave a mark as he drills into me. I whimper and breathe through it, trying to keep my knees underneath my body while he uses me.

"Fuck…" I arch my back and push against him.

"Fuck, Teagan," he groans. "Right there, baby. Don't move."

He slams his hips into me a few more times before he stills, collapsing on top of me as he comes inside me again.

When he pulls back out, I reach behind me and grip his hair hard in my fist. "Don't leave me," I say, breathless. "Please. Just stay for a minute."

"Teagan," he says, his breath hot against my neck, "I haven't left you in months."

He presses his lips to my neck, and I sigh, relaxing a little. But there's something about how he says it—something not quite innocent, like the things he used to say to me at Rancho San Flores. And it's not just that he's letting me know he's always watching…it's like he's trying to remind me who did leave me.

Then, he kisses me, threading his fingers in my hair as his tongue slips past my lips into my mouth.

"I made coffee," he says. "And lunch. It's probably after three now."

"In the afternoon?" I ask.

"Yes," he says. "Your clothes are over there on the chair."

He kisses me again, and then climbs over me and slips into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I sit up and flip on the light on the table beside me. Layla's pink suitcase, the one I took from her closet to pack my clothes for the tour, sits on an armchair in the back corner of the room, partially unzipped and still overflowing with clothes.

Another relic from that brief past life—that blip on the radar that recalibrated my brain. I'm almost afraid to open it.

Sebastian steps back into the room, pulling on those black boxer briefs and black pants—the labelless ones filling the closets and drawers.

"I'll see you downstairs." He doesn't complete the masked killer costume, leaving the room shirtless and maskless. "You look beautiful covered in bruises, Teagan."

I don't know what to say. He turns, leaving the room, and my eyes settle on the deep, angry scars on his back as he goes.

Once I hear his footsteps on the stairs, I clean myself up in the bathroom and then kneel beside that suitcase. On top of everything sits one of Luca's hoodies. It's white—he looked good in white. I remember wearing it around the hotel one morning when he went to the gym after spraying it with his cologne. I bring the collar to my nose and inhale.

It's been months, and I can still smell him. That hollow spot inside me hurts again.

I put on a pair of underwear, a bra, and some black denim shorts and then pull the sweatshirt over my head.

When I walk downstairs, Sebastian lowers his newspaper and looks at me, raising an eyebrow at the oversized hoodie.

"Don't say anything," I say.

"It's 105 degrees, but okay," he says. "By the way, I can read with the mask on—just saying."

Ignoring him, I sit down at one of the barstools.

He made pesto and mozzarella sandwiches. What the fuck kind of Twilight Zone is this?

And they're good, too. Either that, or I'm just starving.

"Is it okay?" he asks.

I nod.

"There's kiwi in it."

"You're hilarious."

"You know, if I'd known showing my face would get you to shut up, I would have taken my mask off earlier."

I shrug, staring down at my plate. "I'm just…taking it all in."

He moves into the kitchen, takes out a mug, and fills it with coffee. "Here," he says.

But when he sets it down in front of me, it splashes down the front of the white hoodie.

"Oops," he says. "My bad."

I look at him and scowl. "You did that on purpose."

"No, I didn't. Why would I do that?"

"Joke's on you—I don't care. I'm not taking it off, and I'm not washing it."

"Looks like someone shit all over you, but okay."

"Yeah, someone did."

He laughs as he walks back to the couch and his newspaper. How strange it is—fucking him naked, seeing him laugh. Eating a sandwich he made and watching him walk barefoot across the floors.

Bone Saw's scars with Sebastian's tattoos.

He sits wide-legged, slouched in the corner of the couch, his thumb pressed against his lower lip while he reads. Sebastian used to do that, too—when he flipped through files at the hospital. I thought it was sexy.

But, of course, he is Sebastian.

"Will you take me home?" I ask after finishing my food.

"Sure," he says. "If that's what you want. Have you thought any more about joining The Order?"

"I haven't really had time to think about it," I tell him.

"Hmm…I see. Well…let me grab a shirt. I'll get your stuff, and we can go."

He came downstairs wearing a black t-shirt with those same black pants, a pair of Nikes, and some sunglasses, dragging my pink suitcase behind him, and I just stared at him in the car, like he was a fucking alien.

Just like I didn't expect that, I didn't expect him to pull up in my driveway, either. My sister's car is parked in front of the house, and I hear music from the backyard. They're probably grilling out; that might make it easier for me to slip upstairs undetected.

"You sure you want to be here?" Sebastian asks. "You could disappear today if you wanted."

I shake my head. "That's not how I'd want to do it," I tell him.

"How would you want to do it, then?"

"If I did it, I'd want to make it look like I was dead. I'd want to give them some kind of closure…because I know how it feels when they just leave you, and you don't know if it was a mistake or not—you don't know if they're okay, and you don't understand why. I'd want them to have something to mourn so they can move on."

"We could do that easily."

"And I'd want to go to my sister's wedding first. I think maybe that would give me closure, too. Oh…shit."

"What?" he asks, but then follows my eyes.

I reach for the handle and jump out of the car just as my mom steps down from the front porch.

"Teagan, my god! Where have you been? What happened to your face?" she asks.

"Um—"

"Hiking accident," Sebastian says, stepping out of the car. He walks to the back of the vehicle and pops the trunk, wheeling my pink suitcase over to me.

"Um, yeah. I kind of rolled down a mountain," I tell her. "It sucked."

"I'm Sebastian," he says, extending his hand to my mother. "Sebastian Torres."

My eyes are probably bulging out of my head when she takes his hand and shakes it.

"I'm Jennifer," my mom says. She glances back at the car before looking Sebastian up and down and her demeanor changes entirely. "Would you like to come inside? Teagan's sister and her fiancé are here, and we just threw some steaks on the grill. There's plenty of food."

"No, he can't," I answer for him. "We just ate, actually, so—"

"Actually, that'd be great," Sebastian says, lacing his fingers with mine. "I have to work the night shift tonight, so an extra meal won't hurt."

"Oh, what do you do?" my mom asks.

"I'm a surgeon," he tells her.

"Oh, here in Orange County?" she asks. "I know a lot of doctors."

"No, up in Ventura," he says.

"So, that's where you've been," my mom says. And suddenly, she's all smiles about my disappearance.

"Yep."

"Well, come on in; everyone is in the back."

"I'll get your bag for you," Sebastian says. "I had to sew up her hand the other day."

"Oh, my goodness!" my mom says. "Well, thank god you were there. Teagan's always been more of an indoor girl; I don't know how you got her to go hiking when I can barely get her out in the sun."

"That's not…entirely true," I say.

"Let me see your hand," my mom says as we step inside.

I turn over my right hand, which he'd stitched up about a week ago. "They're mostly dissolved by now," I tell her. "It's not that big of a deal."

"I'll take this upstairs for you. Um, which one is your room?" Sebastian asks, feigning ignorance.

I turn back to him and roll my eyes, and he just smiles back. "It's the third door," I say.

"Great," he says before lifting the suitcase and starting up the stairs.

My mom pulls me into the kitchen. "Teagan, he's so handsome."

"Yeah, he's all right."

"And rich. That car…"

"Yeah, the car's nice."

"This is the guy you knew from before? The one who sent you the flowers?"

"Apparently."

"And does he know—"

"He knows everything. He knows I'm an insane person, yes."

"How old is he?"

"Umm…"

"You don't know?"

"Twenty-eight?" I offer.

"Twenty-nine," Sebastian says, walking back into the main room.

"Okay, well…come out back, I'll introduce you to everyone."

He takes my hand and follows my mom out the sliding glass doors to the backyard.

"Hey, everybody. Teagan is here; she had a little hiking accident. She and her friend, Sebastian, are going to eat with us. Sebastian, that's my husband, Patrick, over there on the grill," she says. "And that's Teagan's sister, Blakely…"

"Hi," Blakely says, her brow furrowed with confusion.

"And that's her fiancé, Austin," Mom continues.

"Hey," Austin says, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you, man." Then, he leans over and hugs me. "It's good to see you, too, Teagan. How are you doing? Are you good?"

I nod. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Good."

"So, what kind of surgeon are you?" my mom asks.

"Critical Care," he tells her. "So, I do a lot of trauma surgeries, car accidents, GSWs, injuring to the brain, spleen, and liver, stab wounds."

"I'm going to get something to drink," I say. "Do you want a beer or something, B—Sebastian?"

"Yeah, that'd be great," he says. "Thanks."

I take my time in the kitchen, grabbing both of us a beer. When I head back outside, he's standing with my parents telling a surgery story, and even I can't tell if it's real or not.

I hand him his beer and tell him I'm going to go sit in the shade.

Because this shit's weird, and it's hot—it's about fifteen degrees cooler than it was inland but still hot. And I'm still wearing a coffee-stained hoodie.

I sigh, sitting on the swing, and then bring the collar to my nose and inhale, hoping for comfort while I watch Sebastian laugh with my parents and Austin. My sister watches suspiciously.

A few minutes later, he sits down beside me.

"Why are you doing this?" I whisper. "You can't be enjoying it. Are you going to kill them or something?"

He laughs and throws his arm around my shoulders before leaning in and kissing me. "Oh, I'm enjoying it," he says. "And look how happy your mom is. I think she likes me."

"You're making me very nervous," I tell him.

He runs his hand up and down my arm. "You don't need to worry about me. What should concern you is that I'm better at acting like normal people than you are. That's an area of yours that could use improvement."

"You're good at lying," I say. "I've known good liars before. I don't like them."

"That's not necessarily true, is it?"

I look down at the white sneakers Riv bought for me. A pang of longing washes over me. "How will I know that you really let them go?"

"I told you that I'd prove it to you," he says. "Give me a couple of days."

"I miss the way her hair smells."

"Who? The scared, blonde one?"

I nod. "She was actually good. Like…a good person who didn't deserve any of that. I think I could have been a good person for her."

"No, you couldn't," Sebastian says, ripping me to shreds with honesty once again.

"Food's ready," my dad announces.

Sweat pours down my face as we eat our steak and asparagus outside under the covered patio. I listen to Austin and Blakely talk about the wedding and issues they're having coordinating everything in another country. Sebastian asks questions and feigns interest, laughing at Austin's jokes.

This. This feels like a horror movie. Except in this one, I'm not the dumb bitch—I'm one of the serial killers. The sloppy one who's bad at acting.

"And it's really frustrating," Blakely adds. "Because we have paid so much money for this, and we have had so many people who RSVPed cancel on us at the very last minute. The wedding is in less than two weeks, and it's happened three times this week. I'm terrified every time I pick up the phone. Two of my friends canceled on the Vegas trip this weekend for my bachelorette, too."

"Well, I thought you were going to ask Teagan to go," my mom says.

"Oh yeah," Blakely says, her tone awkward. "I did…didn't I text you?"

I shrug and shake my head. "No. I don't think so."

"Well, you should come," Blakely says. "For sure, you should come. I want you to."

"Yeah, okay," I say, even though I know she doesn't mean it. "I'll go. I'm going to get another drink. Do you want one?"

"Sure," Sebastian says. "Actually, do you mind showing me where the bathroom is?"

I nod, and we both get up from the table.

"Oh, Teagan?" my mom calls after me.

"Yeah?"

"There's a blackberry cheesecake in the fridge. Do you mind grabbing that and bringing it out for us?"

"Sure," I tell her. "No problem."

"I still can't believe this is where you came from," Sebastian says after closing the door behind us. "I don't really need you to show me where the bathroom is; I already know."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I know you do."

I enter the kitchen alone, pulling two more beers from the fridge and popping the tops before taking out the cheesecake.

"Hey," Blake says. "I thought I'd come and help you get these on plates—I don't want the whole thing to melt outside."

"Yeah, that's not a bad idea," I say. I pull a chef's knife from the block and start cutting it while she takes plates and lays them out across the counter.

"Where'd you meet that guy?" she asks. "Mom said you met him before you disappeared, but you were dating Hunter…for months until the day you left."

"We weren't exclusive," I tell her.

"I see," she says. "Well, he seems really nice. He's seen your…chest?"

"Yeah, Blakely, he's seen me naked."

"Right…sorry."

She grabs a spatula and starts scooping slices of cheesecake onto the plates.

"You could bring him to the wedding if you want," she tells me. "We have space now."

"It's not that serious."

"It's too bad he's not a plastic surgeon," she says. "Maybe he could fix you."

"No one can fix me."

"What are you talking about? I bet he knows someone. I mean, you can't be comfortable wearing that dirty hoodie when it's ninety degrees out."

She laughs, and it sets me on edge. I tighten my grip on the knife. Tears well in my eyes as I realize it's taking everything in me not to bury it in my sister's back right now. I need to drop it. I need to drop it and back the fuck out of the room, but I can't.

"Or wait…" she starts. "Is he into it? The blood stuff? I mean, that'd be—"

She stops mid-sentence, her eyes settling on something above my shoulder. Sebastian's hand closes around my wrist and squeezes forcefully while the other pries the knife from my fingers. He carries it to the sink and runs it under the water before putting it in the dishwasher, scolding me with his eyes.

"He knows how to load the dishwasher, too," Blakely says. "He's a keeper. Maybe you can teach Austin before you go."

"I'll help you with those plates," he tells her.

I stay there, frozen, while they each grab three and carry them out the door and then Sebastian steps back inside.

"Hey," he says, pulling me into his chest. "It's okay."

I wrap my arms around him and let go of a sob.

"You're okay," he says, running his hands up and down my back. "I've got you."

"I don't want to hurt Blake," I whisper. "I love her."

"I know," he says. "I warned you about this, though—this is what I was talking about. You need to be careful, sweetheart. It's okay. Nothing happened; you're fine."

I let him hold me there like that for a while until my heart rate slows and my breathing evens out. And when I let go of him, he tilts my chin and kisses me on the lips.

"Is that a lie, too?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "Never. Come on, let's go back outside."

I nod, taking his hand and following him out the back door. Sebastian doesn't let go, holding my hand under the table while we eat cheesecake. He rubs small circles inside my palm with his thumb, and I try not to cry while everyone talks and laughs, oblivious as usual to the way I'm feeling.

How did I become this?

And when we finish, he helps my mom with the dishes, who insists he comes back soon, and I walk him out the front door.

When I reach the bottom step, I sink down onto it, dropping my head into my hands.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asks, sitting beside me.

"I'll do it," I tell him. "I'll join The Order and become no one."

"I think that's for the best," he says.

"I don't want to hurt any of them; they don't deserve that so…I can't stay here. But I do want to go to Vegas. And I want to go to the wedding like I said. For closure. My mom has been trying to talk me into moving in with her sister in North Carolina and trying to be someone different there, so I'm going to tell her that's what I'm doing. And then maybe we can make them think I died in a car accident."

He nods. "If that's what you want."

"It's not what I want," I tell him. "But it's all I get, isn't it?"

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight?" he asks. "I can. I'll hold you."

"But why would you do that? You don't even like me."

"That's not true," he says. "I told you that I really do care about you. I told you that I can't love you, but I can't love anything. It's hard to explain but…I like you like…the way I like my favorite song. Or my favorite quote from a book. Both of those things—and you—make me feel something. Something real. I like you like I want to own you and put you on a shelf." He leans in close and whispers in my ear, "I like the way your body feels wrapped around my dick. But none of those things are love, baby."

"I don't want you to stay. I…want some space."

He raises an eyebrow. "Space?"

"Yeah. And I want to go with my sister to Las Vegas without you following me—and without anyone else following me, either. For closure, like I said."

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"Yeah. I just need to be…more self-aware."

He's quiet for a minute, thinking it over. "I'll bring you a phone," he says. "Don't take your other one."

"Thank you," I tell him. I wrap my arm around his back and slip my hand inside his shirt, forgetting about the scars until my fingers touch the rough, damaged skin. He flinches, and for a moment I think he's going to pull away, but he doesn't.

"You know what I used to wish for when I was a kid?"

"Hmm?"

"I just wanted people to see me—the way they see Blake, but no one ever did. And then, I wished I could be the thing they were afraid of. Now, I regret becoming just that."

"When I was a child, I wished for death," Sebastian says. "Wishes are for children, regrets are for the dying. You're not dying yet, are you, Teagan?"

"I don't know. What do you think?"

He presses two fingers to my neck, finding my pulse and looking deep into my eyes—straight through me. "Still very much alive," he says.

"Is that your professional opinion, Doctor?" I ask.

"It is," he says. He leans forward, pressing his lips to mine before standing. "I'll bring you the phone tomorrow," he says. "Call me if you need anything."

"Okay," I tell him.

"This will be good for you, Teagan," Sebastian says. "You'll see. Most people like you don't get a chance to exist like this. But you do."

"Yeah…yeah, I guess you're right."

"I know I'm right. Bye, Teagan."

"Bye…"

He turns and heads for his car, and I stay there on the front step until the headlights disappear. Once inside, I pause at the bottom of the staircase, tempted by the laughter from outside to join my family. I decide to grab a book and lie across the porch swing behind them, pretending to read while I listen to them.

I don't want to miss out on them, but I don't want to ruin it for them, either.