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He grabbed both hands before I could make another move and slammed them onto the bed as I continued to yell, “You have no right to touch me.”
“I own you, Briar!”
I gathered what little saliva was in my mouth and spit in his face, regretting it instantly when his dark eyes turned murderous. But he didn’t move, and he didn’t speak again.
“You don’t, and you won’t,” I gritted out when nearly a minute had passed.
Each ragged breath that we took forced our chests to brush against the other’s and reminded me that my body was still betraying me—that I still wanted his touch.
But with each brush of his chest, and with each craving for more that rushed through me, I told myself over and over again it was all a lie. That it was nothing more than what should have been an anticipated phase from being stuck in that house with the man who bought me after I’d been kidnapped.
“This is all a process to get me comfortable around you,” I mumbled, throwing his words back at him, and I hated how weak and defeated I sounded while doing it. “It isn’t about sex. And yet . . .”
His face went void of all emotion, even his dark eyes looked bored. After a minute of studying me and steadying his breaths, he said, “And yet, I still own you.”
A sharp pang hit my chest at his callousness after the chaos he’d just created inside me. “I hate you.” The words slid out easily, and I refused to regret them.
But seconds ticked by without a response from the devil, and eventually he released me and got off the bed. A moment later he laid the comforter over my body then walked from the room.
Chapter 12
Day 19 with Blackbird
Lucas
“I hate you.”
That weak, broken voice sounded in my mind again and again. The adrenaline coursing through my body grew, mixing with my own hate and the need to have the girl in that room until it became too much. A growl ripped from my throat, and I lashed out, punching the wall closest to me. I stumbled back to the opposite wall in the hallway and gripped at my hair with both hands as I forced myself not to move.
Because I wanted to go back upstairs, but not for the reasons I needed to. Not to teach my blackbird the lesson I knew I should be giving her. But because all I’d wanted in that instant after she’d said those three words was to fall to my knees and beg her to forgive me—for so many things. Because I wanted to tell her things that couldn’t be said.
Stupid bastard.
William had said I wasn’t ready.
He’d been right.
Chapter 13
William
Briar
I hadn’t spoken to the devil in the last day and a half, and I hadn’t faced him when he’d brought my food. Then again, he hadn’t tried to talk to me or get me to look at him since that night . . . and that made this all so much worse.
His silence made me wonder and worry about what I would be met with the next time he decided to speak to me, because I was terrified it would be a lesson. But a part of me—that stupid, traitorous part that had craved his touch—worried that if I looked at him, I would see that unnerving composure that revealed nothing.
I just wanted to know that he’d been living with some of the uncertainty and confusion that I was. Wanted to know that that night had affected him as much as it had me.
Flashes of those haunted eyes and his tortured look, and then his calm, indifferent expression, plagued me more than I wanted to admit even to myself.
I owe him nothing. I hate him, I told myself again. But even in my mind the words didn’t hold much weight.
I didn’t know what time of the day it was—as usual—but I usually sang for hours between each meal. And it hadn’t felt nearly long enough when I heard a key in the lock.
The song abruptly died in my throat, and dread filled me as I scrambled to cover myself with the comforter since I still didn’t have any robes.
My breaths were rough as I worried and wondered why he would be coming back so soon, but they stopped altogether when the door clicked shut, and an unfamiliar voice called out, “Hello, First.”
