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The door opened and she drew back. She’d let her guard down when she should’ve been tracking him.
“Such skills take practice. Be patient with yourself, little one. You’re only in the infant stages of a transition and you’re learning at a rapid rate. It’s difficult to discriminate the useful information from the irrelevant.”
She resented his calm and patient manner as much as she resented him eavesdropping on her thoughts.
“I know you’re upset.”
Because he’d been lurking in her mind, not fully disclosing his nearness but always present. So much for privacy. “I asked you to leave me alone.”
“We’re mated. We’re never alone. I’ll always be with you. A part of you.”
Sometimes, a body rejected a piercing. Delilah had seen it happen. She’d done everything she’d been taught to do, but some bodies saw the intrusion as an infection and naturally pushed it out. She could push him out. If she set her will to the task and focused all of her energy on eradicating all traces of him from her body, she could rid herself of the infection.
He shut the door and sighed. “Delilah, I’m exhausted with the opposition.”
He didn’t know the first thing about exhaustion. Her combativeness wore her down faster than it could ever fatigue him. She was the one fearing for her life—if she was even technically still alive.
She planned to oppose him on as many things as possible, for the simple principle. She’d make him work for every concession, even the ones she didn’t mind. Nothing about this would be easy for him. It was the least she owed herself if she hoped to hold onto a shred of dignity.
“I know you’re upset about the way I spoke to my mother, but the woman has spent her entire life attempting to revolutionize the laws that protect her. She was out of line—”
Delilah made a choking sound and gaped at him. “You think this is about your mother?”
“Is it not?”
“You kidnapped me. I could write a book longer than the Bible of all the ways you’ve wronged me. Your mother doesn’t even touch the surface of my first thousand complaints.” He was so embedded in his own perspective, the thought of making him see things from her point of view drained her. “I’m thinking of calling it The Asshole Chronicles, B-T-dubs.”
“Mind your tongue.”
“Bite me.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
Her stare jerked to him and her eyes narrowed. “Oh, I bet you’d like that.”
“I would.”
Energy crackled in the stillness between them and her treasonous body tightened.
He took a slow step closer. “As a matter of fact, I’d like nothing more than to sink my teeth into your flesh—among other things.”
His words, paired with that intense silver stare, intoxicated her senses and softened her resolve. Despite her dislike for him, he weakened her desire to disobey by merely existing.
“Y-you just keep your distance.” It wasn’t fair. Her loyalties should be to herself, yet she physically ached to fulfill his every need and meet his darkest desires. He was a hunger she did not want to feed, an obsession that only grew.
The temptation became inescapable as he held her stare, he took another step closer. “Do you remember how good it felt when I was deep inside of you?”
An intrusive vision of herself sprang to mind. The vision was not her own. It was how he saw her, remembered her during that first encounter, mouth open in the throes of passion as he made her come again and again.
“Stop!”
“But you don’t want me to stop, pintura. You want me to hoist you off the floor and take you against your protest so you can go on denying what you actually crave. I see your desires. I feel the way your body aches for mine. I smell the sweet honeyed air, rich with the intoxicating fragrance of your arousal. And it’s taking every ounce of my self-control not to touch you. If you think it again, I might not be able to restrain myself.”
Her traitorous body clenched as more flutters of desire stirred.
“You’re picturing it right now, imagining the heavy weight of my cock sinking into you as I bite down on your neck.”
“More like the image of circumcising you with a dull, rusty blade.”
“You forget how readable you are to me. Your heart’s racing because adrenaline’s coursing through your veins at the mere thought of my touch. Your body’s readying for me as you stew over every truth I share. And its defiance angers you. You can point that outrage at me. I want all of it, pintura. There is nothing of yourself that I can’t handle. No part of you I don’t desire.”
“Well, any desire… I mean, if I’m feeling…” She didn’t have a sharp comeback locked and loaded for once, so she just snapped, “If I’m horny it’s not for you, so back off.”
