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Grateful he changed the subject, I nod. "My mother died giving birth to me. I was raised by a man who was more annoyed by my existence than being his daughter. And when the opportunity came, and he fucked up, he sold me to your best friend for a large sum of money. All because I was born with this face. It was either your friend or my father's, but I think he’d rather sell me off to your friend as long as his fuckups were kept hidden."
"I'm sorry, but one thing you don't have to worry about with Kill is that he isn't a bad guy. He has a heart inside there somewhere."
"Kill?"
I heard the girls he was having sex with call him Kill, but I wondered why.
"It's what we all call him on the mainland. Kill is his alias. His handle. It's what all his friends call him."
"Oh, I didn't know that."
"He didn't mention that, did he?"
I shake my head, then stand, handing him his sweater back. "Don't worry about it. I'm kinda use to it."
He takes the sweater in his hands and stands up with a confused expression. "Used to what?"
"Not being anyone's anything." I point my thumb behind me. "I should be heading back."
He looks at the ground. "Yeah, me too." He raises his head. "I have to get to my side of the island. It was nice talking to you, Lillith." He leans close. "But you can count me in."
I pinch my brows together and ask, "Count you in?"
He grins. "As your friend."
"Oh."
He turns around and walks away toward the dock to the second boat. I watch him leave, thinking about what he said. So all his friends call him Kill. I wonder what he wants me to call him since I'm obviously not close to him that way.
I'm fresh out of the shower, and I'm applying moisturizer when I hear the sound of my bedroom door open and slam against the wall.
What the hell?
I tie the white robe around my waist and walk out to the bedroom to see who is the crazy asshole barging into my room.
I stop and freeze, looking at Agnes's worried expression with Killian towering over her. He is wearing his black mask with the upside-down cross that reads No God—the same one he wore when I first met him.
"What's wrong? Are you trying to freak me out? Because it's working."
He steps inside the room, causing Agnes to step aside while he closes the door. "Have a seat on the bed," he demands, but his voice is hard.
“Why?”
“Because I asked you to.”
Um, what?What am I, a slave?
“You didn’t ask. You demanded. There’s a difference. Now what is it that you want?”
“I said to sit on the bed, wife,” he demands with a hint of annoyance.
I sigh, not wanting to push him because I don’t know how far he will go in punishing me, and walk toward the bed. I take a seat and close my thighs together for modesty.
He steps closer until he stands right in front of me. "You know what? I changed my mind. I would like you to stand."
I roll my eyes and stand until my face hits the middle of his chest. My head tilts, and I can see the barcode on his throat and the hard angle of his jaw under his mask. His jaw is set tight. He's upset. I can feel the anger vibrating off him and wonder why.
He takes one step back and angles his head. I can't see his eyes or his face, but I can feel his gaze shooting daggers at me. "Take off the robe."
