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As we’d panted on the tiled floor, still joined and sticky, I’d had a flush of the old me. The human part of me who wanted to stroke her and kiss her and say thank you. But she’d ruined it by shoving me away, shooting to her feet, then stumbling from the shower.
In one move, she reminded me all over again that just because I could take her whenever I damn well wanted didn’t mean she would ever feel the same way I did.
At least she hadn’t gone far.
I’d found her sitting on the ugly throne in the corner of my room, t-shirt clad, hair brushed, her eyes on the carpet and hands clenching the armrests.
I supposed that would’ve been the perfect moment to say something.
To discuss what I expected from her. To somehow understand how three days had passed in a fugue.
How had we slept so long and deep? Had she ever crashed that hard before?
I certainly hadn’t.
Even after my mother’s funeral or the long trip to visit my brother—both events crammed with sleepless nights—I hadn’t fallen face first into oblivion and struggled to crawl my way out.
Whatever had happened or whyever our bodies had chosen that exact moment to shut down didn’t really matter.
It’d happened.
We’d been at our most vulnerable, and neither had harmed the other.
That meant some trust must exist.
And now…we were awake.
Rested.
Conscious.
We had the rest of our lives to talk, and I had no intention of letting her ignore me.
Perhaps that’s why she hasn’t spoken a word to you?
Because everything you’ve ever said to her was a lie.
I shifted on the lounger.
Not everything.
I’d been honest. Too honest.
I couldn’t help that she’d chosen to hear good in all the bad.
That was a her problem, not a me problem.
And besides, I still kept my end of the bargain.
Just because I’d chosen to stay and keep her didn’t mean I’d ever let another man fuck her.
She’s mine.
Through and through.
I doubted the attraction I had toward her would fade and…that was fine with me.
I didn’t see the problem feeling something for her because that was the part I’d been denied my whole life. I’d turned into this twisted fucking thing because I’d been prohibited love in all forms.
Could I help it that I wanted to feel love as much as I wanted domination?
That I needed to be affectionate, all while making her bleed?
Opening my eyes, I squinted behind the dark aviators I’d found in the wardrobe.
Clenching my belly, I sat up and swung my feet into the soft, spongy grass.
Ily didn’t react.
Sitting in a circular shadow-puddle made by the umbrella, she sat cross-legged like an enlightened saint. Her forefingers pressed together to form infinite circles, her palms up on her knees, her back as straight as the wand inked into her spine.
One of the towels I’d given her draped between her legs, hiding the fact she wore no underwear, and my borrowed t-shirt bunched enticingly around her hips.
I waved my hand in front of her closed eyes; she didn’t so much as twitch.
Was she asleep again? In a trance?
Snapping my fingers by her nose, I said, “Wake up, you’ve done enough sleeping.”
Her golden gaze shot wide.
I swear they shimmered with pure light before she scowled, and they filled with hate. “It’s rude to interrupt someone who’s meditating.”
“Oh, that’s what you were doing.” I eyed her stiff posture. “Funny enough, one of the girls I used to work with at a local pub said I should try that. Said it would help with whatever sadness she saw in me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t see sadness in you anymore. I only see a devil.” Dropping her hands from their strange position on her knees, she balled her fingers. “I see horns and bat wings, bone claws, and…” She drifted off before asking, “Do you know how you looked to me the other night? How my delusions painted you?” She shook her head. “Of course, you wouldn’t. Why would you? You were so drunk on your own fantasy that you were completely unaware of mine.”
“That wasn’t my fault. Peter confessed he drugged you against your will.”
“He did it to try to protect me.”
“Sounds as if he only made it worse.”
“Perhaps.” She shrugged angrily. “Or it just revealed your true colours, and now I’m aware of exactly who I belong to.”
The rush of her admitting she belonged to me almost made me tumble off the lounger.
My heart fisted.
My stomach clenched.
It took all my discipline not to yank the leash and order her onto my lap.
“I’m glad you’ve finally accepted your place.” My voice sounded hoarse and thick.
“My place?” She laughed icily. “My place is back home. My place is with my brother. My place is with the guy who made me believe in him, believe his lies, believe he was good and kind and courageous.”
