Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

Maybe if he hadn’t left you alone, you wouldn’t have been.
My phone rings again, that same number popping up; against my better
judgment, I answer, hitting the speaker button with my pinky as the rest of
my body starts to feel like it’s taking on water.
“Where the fuck are you?” Kal’s voice is cold, hard steel, hurled at me
like a lightning bolt.
A lazy smile works over my lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I’m not in the habit of asking questions I don’t want the answer to,” he
says darkly. “You know better than that, Elena.”
I make a face at the window. “You sound like my dad.”
A long, pregnant pause stretches through the line between us, heat scoring
my cheeks.
“Yeah?” Kal clips. “Then get back here so I can discipline you properly.
Put you over my knee, show you how I feel about you running away from
me.”
Tension expands in my core like an unraveled thread, tangling like a
spider web between my thighs. Biting my lip, I try to latch onto the anger
bubbling in my chest, even as warmth spreads from my pussy outward, my
body melting at the image of me bent over for him.
“I didn’t run away from you,” I lie, swallowing over the emotion
threatening the back of my throat. “You weren’t anywhere around when I
left. Which, by the way, thanks for ditching me again. And thanks for
recruiting a monster to babysit me.”
He sighs, and I can just imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose,
trying to maintain composure. “I didn’t realize Vincent was going to be a
problem. I will deal with him.”
Tears burn my eyes, and I sniffle as I fight them off, pulling my knees to
my chest. Laying my cheek on my knee, I tap the phone, checking the time.
“I hate it here.”
“Tell me where you’re at and I’ll come get you.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head even though I know he can’t see me. My
eyelids droop, obscuring the plexiglass in front of me, and I find it easier to
let them rest. “Here. Aplana Island. I’m lonely.”
He doesn’t say anything for several beats—so long, that I’m pretty sure
the next time he does, I’m dreaming. “Yeah,” he agrees, the ice evaporating
from his tone with that single syllable, making me wonder what exactly he’s
agreeing with.