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A frustrated growl slipped between my teeth. I hated when she twisted the facts like this. I thought she understood me better than anyone, but at the moment, she was grossly mischaracterizing me.
“No, I don’t feel remorse when I kill people who pose a threat to me,” I bit out. “I can mutilate them to whatever extent the situation calls for, and it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. But I also don’t experience vicious pleasure from it. Everything I do has a specific, measured purpose. None of my violent actions are erratic, and they are not driven by emotional impulse. I’m not handicapped by that particular human frailty, and I won’t apologize for it.”
“That’s my point!” she flung back at me. “You would do anything necessary to control me, including hurting others to coerce my compliance. It would be a calculated tactic, and you would feel nothing; no guilt, no self-loathing. You will do anything to get what you want, and I will be damned if I put anyone at risk by caring about them. I will not make them a target for your callous cruelty.”
“I don’t want to coerce your compliance through fear,” I countered darkly. “I want you to be mine. You, not a resentful, timid shell. I won’t threaten others to control you, because then your submission wouldn’t be solely for me. It would be for them.” I confronted her with the unabashed truth. “And I won’t share any part of you. This is between you and me. I don’t give a shit about anyone else, Carmen.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, her steely eyes flashing. “A normal man would promise me he would never harm someone I care about because that would be hurtful to me.”
I fixed her with a grim stare. “A normal man would also lie and tell you the pretty things you want to hear in order to trick you into trusting him. I am not a normal man, and you know it all too well. Now, are your fears allayed?”
“Not remotely,” she hissed.
I waved my hand through the air, dismissing her defiant statement. “Yes, they are. You’re not afraid anymore. You’re just angry.”
“And I wonder why that is?” she sniped. “Maybe because a perverted freak has me chained to his bed.”
My brows lifted, and I finally allowed myself to close the distance between us. “Stressful day, kitten?”
With each step toward her rigid frame, my tension eased. I found it distinctly unpleasant when Carmen was fearful of me. Her anger was cute. We could have fun when she was angry.
When I reached the bed, Bandit sauntered over to me. I petted him absently, my focus fixed on Carmen.
She eyed the cat as though he had betrayed her.
“Don’t be pissy with Bandit,” I chided. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. It was sweet of you to worry for him, but there’s nothing to be concerned about. I know you like him.” I taunted her with a sharp smile. “I think it’s quite adorable that my pets are friends.”
Her howl of pure frustration was explosive enough to give me pause, and Bandit fled in alarm.
“I hate you! God, I hate you so much!” She buried her face in her hands, her palms pressed tight against her eyes and her fingers threading through her hair.
My stomach churned, and I reached for her. Just before I gave in to the temptation to stroke her soft skin, I clenched my hand to a fist and withdrew. That impulse was for my own benefit, and she looked as though she might shatter at the lightest touch.
Nothing was going as I had planned. I’d expected to return to my bed and find her needy and wet for me. Of course, I’d anticipated some barbed comments and delicious resistance. But ultimately, I’d thought Carmen would be secretly excited for my return. She’d submitted beautifully this morning, the depth and intensity of her surrender so intoxicating that I’d been distracted by wicked thoughts about her all day.
The enraged woman before me didn’t at all resemble the sweet kitten I’d tamed and left leashed to my bed.
“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted stiffly, completely at a loss as to how to handle her. Touching her seemed like a very bad idea. Not because she might hurt me, but because I was sure it would hurt her.
A strange, unpleasant ache tightened the center of my chest.
“Leave me alone!” she groaned into her hands, her shoulders shaking with the force of her impotent fury. She knew she couldn’t fight me, but she desperately wanted to.
For the first time, I fully contemplated what it meant that she wanted to kill me. It had seemed fun before. Challenging.
But the weight of her actually wishing my death bore down on me like a physical burden, the crushing load making my shoulders slump. For Carmen, her life truly would be better without me in it. She could be free to run her own cartel, make her own choices.
