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“I’m up. What the fuck crawled up your ass and died?” I stumble from the bed and toward the closet.
Grabbing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, I walk away from him, leaving him to wallow in whatever it is that is making him mad. He is mad all the time, grateful for nothing, I’m sure.
I slip through the bathroom door, fully intent on closing it and locking it when his body slides through, stopping me.
“What do you want?” I ask, displeased with the fact that he can’t… no, won’t leave me alone.
“Why did you accept the debt for your father?” His eyes hold this curiousness that bothers me. He isn’t curious. A man like him is never curious. He has a reason behind every question that he asks.
“If you think I did this because I thought it would be fun, you have to be fucking crazy…” I laugh, not the normal hunky-dory kind, but the kind that makes me look like I am unhinged.
Raising an eyebrow at me, he watches my facial features as if he is going to catch me in a lie somewhere. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, why would you step up to the plate? Why not leave your father to deal with his own shit?”
“The better question is, why would you take an innocent girl and bring her into your sick and twisted life? You know why I came with you. Maybe you forgot how that whole day played out. But to refresh your memory, I came with you so you wouldn’t kill my father–the only family I have left.”
Who does he think he is? Questioning me like this?
“You should apologize for being a monster,” I add, knowing damn well, I’m pushing my luck.
His face twists into an angry scowl. I don’t want to push him, but then again, I do. My blood sings for him to take me, to slam my back against the wall, and push my panties to the side…
“Me, apologize for being a monster?” he growls, stepping more and more into the bathroom, forcing me to take steps back until my back hits the vanity.
“Why should I have to apologize for the very thing that people have made me out to be? Why should I have to say sorry to anyone?” His face is in mine, anger is right on the surface of exploding within him.
Lifting my chin and staring him straight in the eyes, I say, “Because, people who are innocent and just trying to get by, die because of you. You kill people because of a debt that is meant to be paid? Did you ever think that these people come to you as a last resort? Have you ever lost anything or anyone? Probably not. You don’t even know the pain…”
His fist raises and comes down though it never hits me. The mirror directly behind us shatters. Shards of glass go flying in every direction, and I push past him and out of the way as blood pours from his hand.
Hate, deep and ugly, radiates off him. “I know loss, pain, and heartache. You know nothing about my pain!”
They say you should never look death straight in the eye, but I guess you can say I’m a bit of a rebel. I can see the misery, anger, and insecurities within him swirling. He wants me to think that nothing can break him. That there isn’t anything on the face of the earth that can bring him out of his own personal hell.
“I think I know you better than you realize.” I don’t let the way he’s looking at me scare me. I don’t let his beautifully dark face tarnish my mind.
“You know nothing,” he growls, his hands reaching into my hair. He tugs it hard, and my scalp burns while my walls clench. The pleasure and pain he can bring me has me wanting to set him off non-stop by looking him straight in the eyes, defying and pushing him.
“I do…”
His eyes look into mine, all pieces of the human I have grown to know are gone. His mouth descends on mine, our teeth clash, and there’s so much power in that simple skin on skin contact. His hand is still in my hair, holding me in place, and I can’t help but feel all over his body.
He growls, gripping my ass and lifting me up onto the counter. The broken glass pricks against my skin, but I don’t care. Nothing can pull me away from this man. My hunger for him outweighs everything.
His lips devour mine while he bites at my skin. My legs spread all on their own as I ready for him. His hand reaches up, tearing my panties from me. The flimsy nightshirt I’m wearing is no resistance to him.
I’m panting with need by the time he releases my hair and pushes me back so he can unbuckle himself. I watch as he slowly pulls his pants off, his cock comes to attention, and I feel my mouth watering. The thought of him taking me, with no intention of warning me, has me growing wetter by the second.
