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They’re wet from me. From my arousal.
And no matter what he says, that’s not a lie.
I swallow, my throat tight and scratchy. My heart thuds viciously against my sternum like it’s demanding to be released from my traitorous body.
I can’t blame it.
Hale pulls his hand from my dampened panties and stands up from the bed, his face grim. Outwardly, his rage seems to have calmed, but his eyes tell a different story—confusion and panic lace those dark blue irises, a storm of emotions I can’t even begin to sort through.
My eyes flicker down to the strain at his pants, and a shiver wracks my body.
His cock may be hidden behind the dark fabric, but I can tell he’s hard as steel. And that he’s fucking huge.
I snap my gaze back up to the wall behind him, my jaw clenching as my cheeks burn. He drew sensations out of my body that I don’t want to admit to, that I refuse to acknowledge. My core is still throbbing with the leftover effects of the orgasm, but I try to ignore it.
Staring at the blank wall, I let the background blur into nothingness. The mattress shifts as Hale moves, reaching for my hands and tying them back up before roughly hiking my pants up and tugging my zipper and button closed. I don’t look at him, don’t acknowledge his touch in any way.
“Get out, Zaid.” Hale breaks the silence.
Zaid passes briefly through my field of vision as he stalks toward the door, tucking himself away and zipping up his own pants. The zipper gives an angry hiss, the sound punctuated by the heavy thud of the door slamming shut behind him.
Leaving just Hale and me in the room.
My gaze remains resolutely on the far wall until Hale’s strong fingers wrap around my jaw in a tight grip, turning my head toward him. I can smell myself on him, smell my arousal on his fingers, and it makes liquid heat pool inside me even as my stomach churns.
I have nowhere else to look, so I focus on his face, not letting go of his stare. I refuse to flinch. His fingers tighten on my jaw, the only sign of a reaction from him.
What are you thinking, Hale?
He watches me for a second longer with an inscrutable expression, and I’m not sure if he’s going to come back for more or offer a second punishment. His eyelids flicker, and a muscle in his jaw ripples.
“Don’t fuck with me, Grace.”
With those words, he finally releases his hold on me and strides out the door behind Zaid.
In a second, the space he filled is empty and the room is quiet again.
Who did he just punish most? I let out a shuddery breath. Me? Zaid?
Or was it Hale himself?
7
Ciro
When I punch the guy in the throat, I don’t even feel the impact of my fist against his bones. I’m in control of my body, but I don’t see or hear anything. I shut down part of my mind when I do this—going through the motions, pushing the memories aside.
After I spent nearly four months as the prisoner of a rival syndicate, blocking out every bit of pain and pushing aside what I knew to protect my family, it comes as second nature to find this familiar place of oblivion.
It’s been over a year since Hale and the others freed me from that captivity, but the memories still haunt me daily like ghosts that trail in my shadows.
Beasts that sit on my shoulders.
Maybe it’s for the best that I’ve learned how to turn my emotions off completely. To shut them down.
It makes this easier.
“Who do you work for?” I ask the man again, lowering my tone.
