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I smile. Kellan told me and Cal about finding her all freaked out because of a spider on her shoulder.
“I don’t see one.”
“Oh, thank god,” she whispers. Her head falls back, hitting the trunk of the tree, and she closes her eyes in relief.
“Scared of them or something? I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
Athelia goes stiff. “You wouldn’t.”
The quiver in her voice sends satisfaction winding through me. “Not tonight, no.”
That seems to put her at ease, but only slightly. She wiggles in her restraints before looking up at me. “Are you going to let me go? And you don’t have to wear the mask anymore. I know who you are.”
I hum. “But I know it unnerves you.”
She looks away, something that looks suspiciously like guilt covering her features. That’s new. In all my interactions with her, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look guilty.
“Hey.” Gently, I place a bent knuckle under her chin and turn her head back until her gaze locks with mine. “What was that look for?”
“Probably because I hate you,” she spits out, but there’s not as much force behind it as there usually is.
“No, that’s not what that was. Why are you feeling guilty?”
Does she finally get it now? What she did to us? What she’s done to me since?
I don’t think so—I think this has to do with something else entirely—but I can’t be sure.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Harper.” I cup her face with one hand, using the other to run my fingers through her tangled hair. The way she grudgingly leans into my touch confirms a suspicion I’ve had for years.
There’s a part of her that still wants us.
“Don’t,” she whispers. “Don’t be nice to me.”
“Why?”
“Because then I’ll…” Her gaze flicks over my body before she looks away again. “Never mind.”
Just as I thought.
“Fine. If you don’t want nice, I’ll happily give you the opposite.”
Her eyes flare as she realizes what she just signed herself up for—practicallybeggedme for. “No! Wes, that’s not what I meant.”
“Too bad.” I pull my knife from my pocket, flipping it open. “You should’ve picked your words more carefully.”
Athelia shivers when I touch the flat of the blade to her collarbone. I’m careful not to cut her as I move it across her skin. Her fear is palpable, the air between us buzzing with it.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she whispers.
My smirk is audible in my voice as I say, “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
Athelia does her best to keep her breaths shallow as I trace the dull side of the knife over her breasts and nipples. She whimpers at the cold of the metal, and I watch as her nipples grow even harder.
“You want me to let you go?”
“God,” she practically sobs. “Yes.”
