The Mistress: Book Four in The Doll Collector Series

Chapter 23: The Mistress

His eyes widened with the realization that in this instance, I had bested him. He dropped his gaze down to where my hand was firmly wrapped around the handle of my knife. A dark crimson spot was forming through his crisp white shirt. Pity really. It was a lovely shirt, nice material. He could have been buried in it.

Aaron gripped my fist and yanked the knife out and dropped it on the floor. He quickly added pressure to the wound. The face of betrayal stared back at me, but honestly did he expect anything less after my confession?

My confession!

No witnesses. I dove for the knife, snatching it up before he could react. I swung it down on him with all of my force. He caught my wrist while his other hand shot out and wrapped around my throat. His blood was staining my skin, I could feel it. He squeezed and held me up onto my tiptoes.

His eyes weren't threatening, nor was his face. He studied my expression, loosening the pressure from his fingers.

"So, here I am face-to-face with The Mistress. What an honor indeed." he said.

I jerked away, but his grasp remained firm.

"Might want to tend to that wound." I suggested through a strained voice.

"No, it's okay."

"Is it?"

I used his grip to anchor myself and swung my foot up to ram the heel right into his wound. He grunted in pain releasing his grip. I landed on my back like a safe. A sharp shooting pain cut through my tailbone. I dashed to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. My knife had somehow remained in my hand. Good little knife. The pain had not subsided in the least and I wanted to fall into a silent scream.

The bathroom was bare with very little options to use as weapons. Perhaps the toilet scrubbing wand. That had to be covered in bacteria. He'd catch a nasty infection from that.

Suddenly, Aaron banged against the door. His voice sounded calm as it passed through the wood, but his consistent beating on the door didn't sound very passive.

I picked up the scrubbing wand in one hand and held on tightly to my knife in the other hand. Aaron seemed to hit the door harder this time. My nerves were starting to fray at the incessant banging.

The hinges were starting to come undone. If there was anyone else in the motel, they could surely hear all the noise, but there was no one else. No one would hear.

The hinges were on their last run, one more hit and they'd be coming off.

There was a pause, my senses were incredibly heightened, I could practically hear my blood rushing through every vein and artery. For a split second, I imagined Aaron winning this battle and draining me in the tub.

It came, the last hit against the door. The wood splintered, with it landing on the floor. I tossed my knife at him, narrowly missing his neck. He didn't move, or even flinch as the knife passed right by his skin.

He entered the bathroom as I took a step back. My only weapon now was the toilet brush. He glanced down at it and smiled to himself.

Aaron reached into his pocket removing a syringe. Inside was a clear liquid. He removed the plastic tip and held the syringe up. Light filtered through it as he pushed the lever, releasing enough liquid to remove the air bubbles.

"Let's make this easy." he said, giving me a nod.

"Let's not. Get out of the way." I demanded.

"Yeah, I'm not going to do that."

He lunged at me with the syringe, but was met with a slap to the face with the brush. Aaron groaned, yet didn't drop the syringe. I bolted for the door. He caught my ankle with his own foot. I dropped to the floor, letting go of the brush.