Page 29 of The Price Of Possession

“I need clothes and a first aid kit,” she demands, spinning to face me.

I raise a brow. “Let it heal naturally. If you try to use bandages they stick and make the scarring worse.”

Confusion etches on her face, but she doesn't press as to how I know that. “I still want ointment,” she pads over to my bed in a heated ball of fire. She parks herself on the edge, waiting as if I'm her damn servant. I cross my arms over my chest. “Suit yourself. The door behind you. Bottom cabinet.” I tilt my head gesturing to the bathroom. I guess she can learn the hard way.

Her mouth stays buttoned tight as she slinks into the bathroom with her blanket wrapped around her middle. I throw on another shirt when she's out of sight. She rummages around for a few minutes before emerging with one of my old oversized Grimshaw T-shirts from my hamper and her blonde hair falling over her shoulders in loose, matted strands.

I curse under my breath. Why does the idea of her in my clothes shock something inside of me? This woman is insufferable. Wish my cock would get the memo, then maybe we could move on from this shit.

“I want my phone.” She parks herself right in front of me in the center of the room, challenging me.

I brush past her, shoulder checking her. It knocks her off balance and she sucks in a breath. “Nah, I think not.” I fall back on my bed, resting my hands behind my head. I lazily graze my eyes over her body. She's regained some of her spirit. It'll be short lived. After the adrenaline wears off she's gonna pass out. Her body is in fight or flight mode and she's running on fumes.

She stomps over to me with her hands on her hips. “I'm not your prisoner. You have to leave sometime, and when you do, I'm gone. I wasn't supposed to be yours.” Fire lights up her irises. She's trying to get a rise out of me. I won't fall for it. Instead, my gaze wanders to her middle. My shirt hides her new scars from me, but I know they're there. It fills some sick void within me.

I take a second to regain a sense of self control before I pull my phone out, scrolling through it to see what I've missed. I don't bother to glance in her direction any longer and it's pissing her off. A few texts await me from Zain and Nyla. Ordinarily, I'd jump at the chance to get my dick wet, but instead I ignore her teasing texts. It does nothing for me.

“Kieran!” she shouts, thinking that'll get me to respond. I roll my eyes. I'm still pissed with her for touching me. She had no right.

I grit my teeth, praying for patience I know I don't possess. “Listen, sweetheart. I'm not sure if that permanent burn on your stomach isn't enough of a clue, but you are mine now. I get to call the shots. I tell you when to eat, to shit, to fucking breathe.” I sneer, jolting up from the bed, standing toe to toe with her. She shuffles backward. Ire fills her veins. Her fists ball at her side.

The feeling is mutual, sweetheart.

She huffs. “Why? Just tell me why!” she shoves at my chest.

I stand taller, crowding her space with my imposing frame. “Because Zain is like a brother to me! I'm doing this for him.” I shout. “You mean nothing to me. I don't give a fuck if you live or die, but Vesper does. If Vesper isn't happy, Zain isn't happy. So I suggest you shut the fuck up, get comfortable, and keep your mouth closed unless it's on my cock.”

My harsh words cut into her like a knife. Her baby blues remain wide and frozen. Her mouth gapes open. Of course instantly my mind demands I fuck it. Just when I think she's going to argue with me, she flips me off and stomps toward the bathroom. She slams the door shut, splintering the wooden frame.

Bitch.

Am I full of shit? Probably. I didn't give a fuck initially. But once I had a taste, I couldn't stop. She's been the only chick to challenge me. The harder she fights, the more my cock wants her. I refuse to acknowledge that it's anything but primal fixation, because it isn't. I know my tastes are abnormal, but so are hers. We fit well sexually. She knows it, too. Part of me wonders what will become of this obsession when I've shattered her. Will that end this?

I hear her turn the shower on. If I was feeling like tempting fate, I would turn it off and force her to stay dirty like the whore she is, instead I find myself offering her a rare moment of reprieve from the beast. That's all she's gonna get, especially after she dared to unearth my dark past.

The scalding water trickles over my skin, washing away the filth and remnants of his licentiousness. It stings against my charred skin, but I let the pain envelope me. I deserve it. I always deserve it. His dickish nature leaves a bitter taste in my mouth . . . but for some stupid reason that same asshole nature keeps me coming back. I suppose it isn't really on my own volition.

Whatever Kieran wants, he takes and right now, that’s me for whatever fucked up reason he has. My thoughts are running a mile a minute. I think back on the welts and burned scars along his stomach, back and side. A few look self-inflicted, but most look like they were done to him by someone else judging by their placement. Maybe he's a masochist. He does have a taste for pain. At least . . . inflicting pain upon others. Asking Kieran to go into detail isn't happening, he's as open as a nun’s legs.

I'll need to use my time here to sharpen my detective skills. Despite everything Kieran has done, I still deeply believe somewhere deep down this is the way he is, and not by his own doing. So, although I'm livid, I have to keep a cool level head in order to find the trove of information I need, and maybe it'll be enough to get me out of this mess I've found myself in. One of these days I'll make good decisions. Who knows, maybe I'll end up on a beach somewhere sipping on Pina coladas.

I snort at that. Probably not. The endless stream of emotions I go through on a daily basis are enough to tire even the strongest-willed person. I'll always struggle. I'll always have to claw my way to the top. Only, I never reach it. I climb higher and higher but the end is never in sight. At what point do I finally give up?

A sharp rap against the glass startles me. I squeal, dropping my washcloth. Kieran wipes the evaporation from the glass, revealing those sexy fuck me eyes on the other side. I turn the handle sharply, cutting off the water. I snatch the towel from the hook and wrap it around my middle gingerly. The door slides open.

“Rules,” Kieran says, blocking me from leaving the shower. Water beads down my legs, dripping onto the shower tile below.

He ticks off the rules one by one. “You stay in this room. You stay quiet. Whenever I come back, I want you on your knees, naked, waiting for me.”

I blink a few times, computing if he's serious. He doesn't waver. Why wouldn't this psycho be serious?

“You—”

He sighs, his eyes gazing upward. His fingers rest against his temples. “Yes, I'm serious. Do we need to go over them again? As a matter of fact, get on those knees now, sweetheart.” he purrs, goading me with that devilish grin. He steps into me, filling my space with his masculine scent that makes the place between my legs tingle.

Stupid betraying body!

I sneer. “Fuck off.” He yanks the towel from my body, exposing me. Not like he hasn't already seen it all. His hungry eyes slowly take on every inch of me. He lights up when he reaches his handiwork on my abdomen. He stands impervious with his arrogant ego.