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After that I turned to the shower, but hesitated in front of it, debating if I should risk getting naked. But the stench of blood still lingered on my skin and mingled with sweat and Growl’s musky scent. I got out of my clothes. I wasn’t save anymore. Taking a shower wouldn’t change that. Sooner or later Growl would do whatever he wanted to do and there was nothing I could do to stop him.
The shower stall was old but clean, the faucet creaky and it took a long time for the water to turn moderately warm. I scrubbed my skin until it felt raw and hot, and would probably have continued to do so if a knock hadn’t interrupted me.
“You’ve got two more minutes.”
I turned the water off. Despite my first instinct to provoke Growl, I didn’t want to risk him coming in. I quickly dried myself off and then opened the backpack. My breath hitched when I caught sight of my clothes. It was strange how little things suddenly meant so much.
I carefully took out a crème-colored cotton dress that hugged my body. I’d wanted to donate it because it wasn’t en-vogue anymore. Now it felt like the most precious thing I owned. I slid the soft fabric over my body and put on tights. Being dressed in my old clothes felt wrong in this place, like a relict from old times.
When I left the bathroom, Growl wasn’t there, nor were his dogs.
I lingered in the hallway, unsure what to do or where to go. The walls were greyish white like in my room and the dark wood floor had seen better days.
The scent of coffee drifted over to me and eventually lured me into a big kitchen. Growl leaned against the kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in his hand and his dogs lying on blankets in a corner of the room. His gaze was directed at a message on his mobile. There weren’t any chairs or a table. Apparently, Growl preferred to take his meals while standing.
He looked up and his eyes traveled the length of my body, lingering on my legs and hips and breasts.
I forced myself to remain calm, to hide the nerves the heat of his gaze created.
He wore a tight white shirt that didn’t manage to hide his muscles, nor the outlines of too-many tattoos. My eyes drifted to the scar around his neck.
“Here,” he said, pushing a cup of coffee over to me. “Drink.”
“I prefer my coffee with milk,” I said.
“No milk in the house. Black or nothing.”
I took the cup, relishing the heat of it, and downed a few gulps of the hot liquid. His attention had returned to the mobile on the kitchen counter again. “There are eggs in the fridge if you are hungry.”
I stared at him. “Are you serious?” I asked, setting the cup down hard on the counter. “Yesterday Falcone gave me to you like a present and now you pretend like this is normal, like we can act normal around each other. Why don’t you do us both a favor and let me go.”
He was in front of me before I could react. I craned my neck to peer at his face. I was trapped between him and the kitchen. He grabbed me by the waist and hoisted me up on the counter, then pressed between my legs, bringing our faces close together. I held my breath, stunned by his sudden movement.
My heart was beating frantically against my ribcage, but I tried to hide my fear of him behind my hatred. His hand cradled the back of my head, keeping me in place and then his mouth came down on mine, his tongue sliding past my lips. I made a sound of protest but it was swallowed by Growl’s mouth.
I jerked my head back, panting and glared at him. I hated him. Hated him for who he was, but worse for what he’d made me feel. For the barest moment I’d allowed myself to drown in the kiss because it managed to make me forget everything, helped me drown out the sadness and fear and worry. And in that short instant, it had felt wondrous and good. So good, that my body had tingled and I’d felt it in my fingertips and toes. Everywhere. It was wrong. God, so wrong. Like the man in front of me.
I wiped my mouth and then just like that the tingling was gone and what was left was revulsion. “Don’t touch me,” I hissed. “Ever again.”
He smiled humorlessly. “Why?”
“Because you repulse me. You are a monster and I don’t want your hands on me, not when they’re covered in blood.”Growl
Emotions, he’d never quite understood them. Most people had too many, and showed them even more willingly. Especially women seemed too unconcerned about showing that part of themselves. Cara was no different. Hate, it had been plain on her face.
