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“I wasn’t fucking asking,” I say again, now fucking pissed he didn’t listen. The rum thrums pleasantly in my veins. The boy whimpers and his eyes fill with tears.
“Please,” he says quietly, and I toss the chair back with a growl. It’s been a long time since anyone has refused me, and it immediately fills me with rage. In two big steps I am on him and he lets off a small cry as I grab the back of his shirt, ripping it from his body.
“Your clothes are a fucking privilege—” I start to say before stopping and gaping at the sight before me.
Josh has bandages wrapped around his chest and tears running down his face. This is no fucking injury.
His eyes are pleading.
His chest wrapped.
Holy fuck.
“Please,”shesays.
Eight
Ana
Tears are streaming down my face, my hands needlessly covering the bandages across my chest. Axle is standing over me, panting heavily with his obsidian eyes locked on me. Visions of being gang-raped and tortured for the rest of a short life fill my mind and I hold in a whimper. I so desperately want to be brave. I can’t have come this far for nothing, but the fear of being tossed to the inmates is too great.
“Please,” I croak out, not sure why I’m bothering.
Other than the fact he looked at me differently, that he saved me twice now, he’s no different from any other man in this world. There is a reason I’ve pretended to be a boy, hidden and sworn off sex and love all these years. Men only want one thing from women now.
“Why are you bleeding?” he finally asks in a quiet voice and my eyes shoot open in surprise. “Did Cole harm you?”
I’m rendered speechless. Why on earth would this man care?
“N-no, he didn’t. It’s… something else.” I finally spit out, aware I’m staring at him with my mouth open. His nostrils flare as he watches me, and it feels like hours go by but really, it’s no more than a minute.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say he doesn’t know what to do with me either. The look he is giving me is strange. It doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable and leered at like in the past. My eyes dart down to the new bottle in his hands. I don’t even remember the last time I dared to have a drink. I lick my lips without thinking about it.
“If it’s all the same to you, if you are just going to stare at me can I at least have some of that rum?”
I see the corner of his lip twitch and, after a beat, he holds out the bottle. I stand on shaky legs and accept, keeping my eyes on him while I take a deep swallow. The harsh liquor burns going down, settling in the pit of my stomach. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but this seems like a good idea, for once. I take another healthy swig before handing it back, watching him repeat the motion. My head swims pleasantly.
We stand there staring at each other, me wearing only my pants and the bandage wrapped around my chest. He is shirtless, with sweat and blood covering his torso. I can’t help but glance down briefly and appreciate the sight, even though a man’s body has never interested me before. Although his skin is pale, no doubt a result of living essentially indoors for however long, there are dark tattoo’s winding all over, and he obviously takes care of his body. There isn’t an ounce of fat on him, and my eyes wander down to the deep V and I can’t help but lick my lips again in a nervous tick.
Whether it’s the stress or a lifetime of celibacy catching up to me, I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve ever known pleasant sexual touch before, but the way he is watching me warms as opposed to chills me. My body feels on fire so close to him. His eyes never stop watching me, caressing me with his gaze. It’s not sinister. It makes me feel almost… worshipped.
He says nothing, standing there with the bottle in one hand watching, never taking his eyes off me.
“What now?” I finally say, getting a bit impatient. I know what I expected if a man ever found me out, but it sure wasn’t this. Especially from a ruthless man like this one. Leader of The Tomb.
He blinks a few times, as though coming back to reality, before stalking over to the table and slamming the bottle down. His back is to me for the moment, and I’m surprised to feel a pang of regret that his eyes aren’t on me anymore. I’ve spent so long hiding in the shadows, I never knew I could crave someone’s eyes on me.
“You’re a woman,” he finally says quietly, and it’s all I can do not to roll my eyes. He turns to me and when his eyes meet mine, I flush. Trying to compose myself, I hold out my hand like an idiot.
“Ana.”
Maybe if I humanize myself, he won’t literally throw me to the wolves. He looks down at my hand and the corner of his mouth twitches again. Releasing the bottle, he turns to me and I instinctively back up until I hit a wall. He puts an arm up to one side of my head and leans his face in close. My heart beats faster, my senses filled with the scent of blood, sweat, and something uniquely Axle. Something manly. Something deadly.
He watches my face, my reactions. Another subtle twitch. I get the feeling this isn’t a man who smiles often, so maybe this is like the equivalent of a grin for him.
“A real woman,” he says quietly, almost as if to himself. My eyes get wide. I can feel my body heating up in this proximity. Somehow, I don’t think it’s fear.
“I-I thought…the nuns…”
