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“You should. What I think will have a direct impact on your life, sweetheart.”
“Stop calling me that,” I hiss. “I’m not your sweetheart.”
“You are whatever the fuck I say you are, sweetheart.”
Is it possi
ble to curse someone into a dark, bottomless pit of hell? I’m not above using black magic. I just need him to bloody disappear. The earth will be a tad more peaceful.
I seal my temper as I turn around to leave.
He won’t get to me. He won’t.
A strong hand clutches my arm and swings me back so hard, I land flush against his hard chest.
He grips me with brute, bruising force.
“Did I say you can go?”
I struggle against him. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not one of your subjects, your majesty. I don’t follow your orders.”
“There’s a start to everything.”
He releases me but only so he can wrap both his arms around my waist and rests his hands at the small of my back like we’re some freaking lovers.
This close, my air fills with his scent and his body heat mingles with mine.
I’m not short, but he still has height and broadness on me. Deep down, I know that seize is just an intimidation factor.
I push at his chest, wiggling sideways and backwards, trying to unlink his hands.
He doesn’t even move to stop me. All he does is keep his steel-like hold.
“Ugh.” I pant. “Let me go.”
“Why should I, hmm?”
“Why shouldn’t you?” I counter back.
“I love it when you struggle.” His eyes gleam with that now-familiar sadism as he reaches up and pinches my cheek. “You should see the tint of red on this.”
I go limp against him. My arms fall lifeless on either side of me, and I even school my expression into a neutral one.
If he loves my struggle, then he won’t be getting it anymore.
“Are you done?”
His left eye twitches.
Obviously, the sick bastard doesn’t like not getting what he wants and I beat him at his own game.
“I’m going to give you a valuable piece of advice. You already know what I’m capable of.” His voice is calm. The dangerous type of calm. “Don’t push me.”
“You’re the one who’s pushing me!” I can’t believe this bastard. “You’re lucky I haven’t reported you for what happened yesterday.”
“Lucky?” He laughs with a humourless edge, and it’s stupid that even the lines of his face stretch in beautiful angles.
Someone pour acid on his features.
