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“Angry? No. Angry is when you don’t listen. Angry is when you’re being a brat and I have to put you back in your place. This…ah, you know I’m not good with feelings, little sunflower, but I think I can safely say this is wrath.”
I jolt at the sound of his voice, knees weakening as he kneels by my feet, opening the leather cuff attached to the chain.
“No!” It’s not as self-assured this time. More of a plea. “Nate, please.”
“I don’t want to hear you. Choose whether you want to shut it or be gagged, but I don’t want one more sound. I might end up doing something stupid.”
I gnaw at my lower lip, trying to decide if I want to fight harder or give up. That would have never happened before. He’s weakened me so badly it affects more than my ego. It affects my survival.
My thinking takes too long anyway. He’s already drilling the chain to the floor of his bedroom by the time I come back to reality.
I rub a hand over my face. “You knew I was going to try to run away,” I murmur. “That’s what happens when you steal someone’s freedom.”
“Yes.” He stands up and stretches his neck. “And now we know it’s not happening again. I even put new locks on the windows. Just for you.”
I grit my teeth, choosing silence over anything else that could spill out of my mouth.
His eyes go the book on the bed, and he tilts his head to the side. “Enjoying Frankenstein?”
“Yes. As you know, reading is my favorite pastime.”
With an unexpected snort, he rounds the bed and comes to his side. As he gets rid of his shoes and shirt, I avert my eyes to not look at his tempting body. I wish his tattoos would hide his hard muscles. All they do is enhance his beautiful strength, the way everything moves in harmony every time he makes a movement.
I shift, bringing my feet back on the bed and hating the feeling and sound of the chain.
He grabs the book, caressing my thigh with his other hand. His entire body relaxes now. His face softens, his breathing evens out. It’s like now that he knows I really can’t go anywhere, he’s reassured.
“Where did you get to?” he asks softly.
I sigh, looking away. “I think I just read that first page about ten times. It’s a letter.”
He nods. “Yes, the first four chapters are an epistolary novel.”
I dig my gaze into his while I rub my thumb against my lower lip. “Right.”
He chuckles, grabbing my hand and stopping my movement. “It means it’s a story in the form of letters. Technically, they’re not the first four chapters, just four letters.”
I feel my cheeks heat. I hate that he’s learned to read me so well he knows when I don’t understand something, but am too ashamed to admit it.
“You could have just said letters.”
A laugh bursts out of him. “Yes, I guess you’re right. Did you like that first page?”
I shrug, my eyes going to the leather around my ankle. “I want to know more, but I’ll never be able to read it all. I read about three books in my life. Takes me months to go through one, and Frankenstein sounds complicated as hell.”
His hand leaves my thigh, and he taps his lap. “Come. Put your head here.”
I hesitate, my eyes bouncing between his lap and his face.
“Let’s both escape for the night, Kay.”
My heart skips a beat, my eyes fluttering shut.
And I rest my head on his lap.
He puts his hand in my hair, caressing from the top to my ear, repeating the movement until I relax.
“Frankenstein is my favorite book.”
