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“You bitch,” he growled. His hand jerked up, and suddenly it was around my neck, squeezing my throat. I scratched at his arm, tearing at his hand with my nails, but he didn’t flinch. “Are you ready to behave?” he demanded, squeezing tighter.
I sputtered and coughed as the corners of my vision slowly started to darken. “P-please—” I squeaked, my voice sounding like air being slowly released from a balloon. I suddenly stopped struggling as his hand gripped even tighter.
I closed my eyes. Or maybe I blacked out; it was hard to tell. But as soon as I closed my eyes, there was a loudcrackand the demon’s hand loosened around my throat. I slumped forward, inhaling a wheezing breath that turned into vicious coughing. My chest burned as I took in gasping mouthfuls of air between coughs, but it didn’t matter—I could breathe.
Someone’s hands were on me, keeping me from buckling to the ground.
“Ansel?” I whispered; my voice hoarse. Tears filled my eyes as soon as I saw his beautiful face; his brows knitted together with concern.
“Oh my Gods, Skye, are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asked, picking me up and cradling me in his arms. He carefully stepped around the dead body on the ground next to our feet. I made the mistake of glancing down and seeing the demon’s head turned in an unnatural direction.
My throat was too sore to answer Ansel, so I buried my face in the crook of his shoulder. I was beat-up and my voice would be hoarse for a while, but I was alive. Hopefully, Ansel could see that. I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t get the image of the demon’s broken neck out of my head. I inhaled Ansel’s scent deeply—fresh tilled earth mixed with sweat—and let it slowly relax me. I was not only alive, I reminded myself, but I was safe.
Chapter nineteen
Anselcarriedmetheentire way to the car, refusing to let go until I was safely buckled into the passenger seat.
He exhaled a long, heavy breath, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel once he was in the car seated next to me. He picked up his head and turned to stare directly at me. “You sure you’re alright?” he asked softly, reaching out to touch my chin. His fingers grazed down to my neck, and I winced. I didn’t need to look in a mirror to know there was a nasty bruise already forming.
“I promise I’m fine,” I said, my voice still a little hoarse. “I think I rolled my ankle a little too. But that’s it.”
“Good,” Ansel said, still holding my gaze. He nodded slowly, his hand still touching my face as if my words didn’t completely convince him. He dropped his hand, his soft expression slowly fading into anger. “What were you thinking, Skye? You could have been killed.”
His sudden aggression took me so off guard, I could only respond with a scoff. “What do you mean, I—”
“How much more proof do you need until you finally believe me? I have never lied to you. I’ve been telling you the truth the whole time. Do you need to gallivant through the entire city, have more guns pointed at you, before you get it that Gregor is looking for you just as much as he’s looking for me?”
My cheeks burned. “No.”
“How many more times do you need to have your life threatened before you get it through your skull?”
I folded my arms across my chest and shifted my knees away from him, so I was facing the front. “I get it, okay? You proved your point.”
“The thing is, I don’t think I have, because I keep on having to rescue you from these situations—”
“Youkidnappedme, Ansel,” I suddenly shouted, but my voice was too weak and reedy to get the emphasis across. I sighed, touching my neck as my throat throbbed from within. I added, lowering my voice, “You kidnapped me. That’s what you’re supposed to do when you’ve been kidnapped. You escape. I can’t put my entire life on hold because I was accidentally caught between some . . . some . . . family dispute!”
He gave me a pointed look. “You know it’s so much more than that, Skye,” he said in a cold voice.
No! I don’t because whenever I ask you a question, you give me a cryptic answer. I have to find out all my information from Demie.
He slid the key into the ignition and turned on the car. “I’m sorry you feel like a prisoner, but that’s not how I see you.” He paused; the muscle in his cheek tightening. “I thought you were beginning to trust me, especially after last night.”
His words gutted me to the very core.That’s why I needed to leave. My feelings were getting too mixed-up, and I needed time and space away from you so I could figure all this out.
But I couldn’t tell him that. Aside from the glaringly obvious fact this relationship would never work in the real world, I still didn’t know how he felt. Yes, we’ve been intimate, but Ansel was also a “recovering Casanova” and could probably separate his emotional feelings from his sexual ones with no problem at all. For all I knew, I was just a minor inconvenience that he had to keep around and keep said inconvenience compliant by stroking her pussy a couple times.
“I was—I am learning to trust you,” I quickly corrected. “You may not see me as your prisoner, but I feel like one. I’m in that room all day, losing my mind. I don’t like free time. I never have. I hate having nothing to do but think and when I have time to think, it always leads to spiraling. I need a job, something to do. If you would let me help out, even something small, I would feel a little better—”
“I don’t even let Demie and Liam help most of the time. What am I supposed to have you do?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure there’s something—”
He laughed, cold and mirthless. “Sure. If I need my computer rebooted, I’ll let you know.” His expression turned serious once again, and he glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “Skye, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest, okay?”
I gave him a jerky nod.
“When that guy asked you where I was hiding, what did you say?”
