Page 80 of The Devil’s Feather

My vision swam. “That wasn’t protecting me—it was lashing out. If you were protecting me, you’d try to make me feel better. There’s no good reason for you to threaten a woman with violence just for being snotty.”

A muscle in the corner of his jaw jumped. Damn, he was still angry. But was it at me? Or himself? Molly? All of the above?

“You do not understand. If I had known Molly would be there, I never would have gone. She takes every opportunity to trigger me in public. Even wore that fucking lavender perfume.” Rafael exhaled slowly and forced himself to relax. “I did not mean to scare you.”

“But you meant to scare her.”

He closed his eyes. “I only wanted her to leave you alone.”

“Then get a fucking restraining order or something!” I didn’t intend to raise my voice, but the panicky rush overtook me. The more overstimulated and overwhelmed I grew, the harder it was to filter my words and tone appropriately.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “What fucking judge would issue that order against a wealthy white woman not even half my size?”

“Maybe if you hadn’t just publicly threatened that wealthy white woman, it would be different. You know your voice carries.” I forced my breathing to slow. Definitely didn’t want to set him off again. “Everyone at that party will be on her side now.”

He winced. Good, at least he was listening.

“When Molly assaulted you, that absolutely warranted self-defense. Mandeep told me about how awful she was to you. But tonight, you threatened to hurt her just because you were mad. That is not ok. That will never be ok.”

The red dashboard light gave Rafael a demonic cast as he bowed his head. “Seeing you upset makes me lose my temper.”

“That puts all the burden on me to control it for you. I get overstimulated easily in public. Are you going to lose it every time I have a meltdown?” Acidic dread curdled my belly. “If I’d left and it was just you and Molly, what would you have done?”

He finally turned to look at me. “Probably knock her ass out.” He said it so matter-of-factly, I shivered. “Maybe I should lie and say something you want to hear, but I told you I would not.”

I recoiled. ‘Mean as a subway rat,’ Kathy had said.

Rafael groaned and rested his forehead against the steering wheel. “Have I fucked everything up?” He gave the wheel a small headbutt. “This is what I do. Drag it all to hell. Are you going to leave me now?”

The despair in his voice unraveled me. He was so lost.

“You scared the fuck out of me tonight. I don’t want to have to leave, but I don’t like this side of you at all, and I have a history of being too trusting.” I fought down the rising nausea. Damn my sensitive tummy. “Would you hurt me if I tried to leave?” Should have asked that at the very beginning.

Rafael’s eyes widened. “No, of course not. I have never wanted to be your captor.”

My face screwed tightly with my resistance to what I needed to say. “I really, really don’t want to draw this parallel, but you probably thought you’d never hurt Molly, either. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

He hissed out a breath and muttered something in Turkish through clenched teeth.

I’d struck center mass and hated myself for it, but I had to keep pushing. “I promise I’m not trying to upset you. Rafael, I love you so, so much. Your intent has never been in question. But we’re both emotional people—what happens when I inevitably piss you off?”

Bitterness hardened his face. “Are you planning to sexually assault me as well?”

“Don’t do that. You know that’s not what I’m saying.” I picked at my seatbelt to give my nervous hands a task. “Will you always be able to leave the room? If I leave the room, will you come after me? What if we’re somewhere neither of us can easily leave?”

Rafael breathed deeply, forcing himself to calm. “It is a fair question. I will not chase you or try to trap you. Sometimes a complete subject change can disrupt the cycle. If I cannot escape the situation, I will seek pain to bring me back down. What does not turn outward must turn inward.” He ran a hand along his arm. “Slap me in the face if you have to. Seems counterintuitive, but it helps me focus.”

“You’re right, I never would have thought of that. You’re also kind of hard to slap when you’re looming over me.”

“Tell me to kneel, then.” His gaze was steady.

Did I have the fortitude to bring this man to his knees when he was in a rage?

“You can,” he answered my unspoken thought with surprising confidence.

‘You are not as subtle as you think.’ Well, damn.

My nails scraped over the thick seatbelt weave. “I’ve observed two main ways you lose control: bloodlust and fear. The first one is obvious. You get this wild look on your face when a fight escalates to a certain point.