He frowns, gazing at me for a second before responding. “Never.”

I roll my eyes and blow out a breath, angry with myself for not thinking of better ways to talk my way out of this mess.

“Whatever you’re going to try next won’t work, Vanessa. I’m not going to let you persuade me.” He reaches into the cage with the knife, and I lean back to avoid it, but his arm is longer than the width of the cage. I can’t escape the blade as it touches me. With my eyes closed, I try to calm myself down by breathing through my nose as Phoenix pushes the tip into my cheek.

“Do you fear pain, Princess?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say.

“Is it because of the feeling or because I might scar you?”

“What?” I gasp.

“You heard me.” He caresses my cheek with the edge of the knife. It sinks into my skin like a knife cutting through butter, but not deep enough to do damage. It does hurt a little, though, and I struggle not to react. I can feel the blood roll down my skin, and his eyes zoom in on it like a hawk that’s found its prey.

“Are you afraid you’ll no longer look pretty when I’m done with you? Or do you just not want to feel it while I’m hurting you?”

“Both,” I say, my voice changing in intonation as the blade dances across my skin.

“Thought you’d say that. You wanna know what I think? I don’t think you’re afraid of the pain. I think you’re more afraid of the consequences. The fate you’ll have to endure once you realize you can no longer hide behind a pretty mask.” His eyes suddenly turn serious. “Because that beautiful mask will no longer be there when I’m done with you.”

That comment shakes me to my core. I’ve never been this afraid, but then, I’ve never faced anything like this. Miles or Phoenix, whatever he calls himself nowadays … he’s become so violent over the past few years, like a raging hurricane. There’s a certain gleam in his eyes that I can’t ignore, something diabolical. And yet I can’t help but wonder if he thinks exactly the same of me.

“So …” The knife ends at my chin, and with the tip, he raises my head. “How would you like to suffer?”

Frowning, I laugh. “Are you for real?”

The left side of his lip curls up into a smile. “Don’t take it for granted, Princess. I’m giving you a choice. Where would you like to bleed? How would you like to die? Where do you want to feel the pain first?” He drags the knife down my neck all the way to my chest, circling my breasts with it as if he means to cut them out first. I loathe the despicable look on his face, as if he’s enjoying this.

“So, what will it be?” he whispers, staring at me from under his eyelashes.

My eyes search his for an inkling of mercy, but the only thing I find is desire. The desire to gut me … to use me. I recognize that look. He’s had it before, but it was a long time ago … back when he still wanted me in more ways than one.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” I say. “I’ll do anything. Anything you want.”

He cocks his head, his eyes narrowing intensely. “Anything?”

I nod profusely, my lips shivering as he brings the blade close to my mouth. He keeps toying with me, testing my limits. It must be part of his cruel sense of humor. His way to punish me.

He brings the knife to my wrists, grabbing my arms and pulling them to him. I fear he’s going to cut me, but instead, he unties the belt that’s kept my hands tied. The knife is only there for show, to threaten me. A smile slowly builds on his face, the barbell in his eyebrow lifting up with it. “Lift up your skirt.”

I frown, not sure what he wants.

“Did you not hear what I said?” he asks, the knife drifting down toward my chest along with his eyes. “That dress is in the way of what I want.”

With reluctance, my hands find their way to the bottom of my floral dress and scrunch up the fabric to about knee-length.

He sways the knife upwards. “More.”

The skirt inches up a little more, just below my panties.

His dark eyes are at half-mast as they drift up from the bottom of my dress to look me straight in the eyes. “Did I say you could stop?”

I swallow away the lump in my throat, realizing what he wants me to do. I’ve known it from the start. That primal, lustful look in his eyes. At first, I thought it was just the thirst for revenge, and maybe it still is … only in a much more sexual way.

Suddenly, he pushes the knife into my throat, causing me to lift my head in an attempt to escape the sharp tip.

“You might want to answer the questions I ask you. It might prolong your life.”

“Sorry …” I mumble, leaning away to avoid the knife.

He smirks. “That’s the first time I hear an apology. Hmm … it suits you well.”

“Fuck you,” I snarl. I can’t help myself; he’s so full of himself.

“Now, now, Princess. Don’t blow it. The only thing you’ll be blowing is me.”

My nose twitches as I feel the incredible urge to push my hand through the bars and punch him in the face. However, the knife he’s constantly shoving in my face is a reminder of my fate if I don’t shut up and do what he says.

His lips part. “Finally, no more backtalk.” He sighs. “You know, I’ve been waiting so long for the moment when you’d be too scared to try and piss me off. So scared you’d do anything to please me, just so I’d be nice to you.” He brings the knife to one of the straps holding up my dress at my shoulder and tucks it underneath. “And you know what? I’ll be nice, as long as you do whatever I say.”

And then he cuts right through the fabric.

The strap drops down my shoulder, and my dress now hangs slightly askew because only one strap supports it. I hope he doesn’t cut both.

I get the feeling he doesn’t mean any of it, and that he’s only saying it to fuck with my mind. This man, who now calls himself Phoenix, is unlike the boy I used to know. He’s never hated me to the point of wanting to destroy me, but then again, I probably am the reason he turned out to be this way.

“So, first things first. You’ll call me Phoenix from now on. Nothing else.”

“But your name is Miles.”

“Shhh!” he interrupts, placing the edge of the knife over my mouth to silence me. “Be quiet.” He frowns. “Second of all … You’ll do as I say. Don’t interrupt me. Don’t bite. Don’t kick and punch. Don’t scream. Don’t do anything that will make me want to get into that cage because, by god, I will come in there and fuck you up with whatever means necessary to make my point.”

“I understand,” I say with a fake smile plastered on my face.

“Good.” He smiles back just as fake. “Any questions?”

“No.” My smile is gone immediately.

He places his hand against his ear. “What’s that again?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, Phoenix.”

“Good girl.”

Smirking, he brings the knife to the other strap holding up my dress and cuts through it like butter. The sides drape down my shoulders, barely covering my breasts as I wrap my arms around my waist to keep it from falling down.

“Did I say you could move your hands there?” He shakes his head. “No. Keep them down. There.” The knife points at my panties, which are exposed now.

“What?” I ask. “You want me to …?”

“I want you to touch yourself.”

With furrowed brows, I say, “No.”

“Did you forget our little agreement already?” he says.

“I didn’t, but you’re asking me to … to …” I sniff, taking in some much-needed air. I can’t believe it’s come to this. Sex or pain. Who could ever choose between the two?

“To what?” he says. “Play with yourself? Fuck your own pussy? Show me your face when you come?”

His hand suddenly comes past the bars and rips down the remaining shreds of dress, exposing my bare breasts. I never wear a bra underneath this dress, but now I wish I did.

The devilish smile that briefly appears on his face as he gazes down toward my chest makes my body heat up. I hate that feeling, and I refuse to acknowledge it.