“Well, maybe I am.” He sticks his tongue out at me, then turns and runs toward his dorm.
Shaking my head, I follow him at a more measured pace even though my heart is slamming against my ribcage.
Merci wants to take care of me.
Me.
My own mother couldn’t deal with my needs. She walked away without so much as a backward glance. And my father? There’s a wall between us, this unspoken distance that’s as isolating as it is confusing.
Viktor’s the only one who ever cared enough.
Until now.
Thing is . . . I want to care for Merci too. Want to protect him. Possess him.
Make him mine.
Chapter 20
Merci
I splash hot water on my face, trying to warm up and give myself time to process everything Zach just told me. It explains so much. Like why he always seems so . . . robotic. Cold. Maybe even psychopathic. Now I know that’s far from the truth.
We should’ve had this conversation years ago. Things could’ve been different, even if just a bit. He might’ve forgiven me, and maybe I wouldn't have run away.
But trauma's a bitch. I built walls so high that even the best therapist needs a fucking ladder truck to scale them.
Not that our parents helped the situation. While I love my mom, right now, I really want to bitch slap her. Same goes for my stepfather.
As if “different” comes remotely close to what Zach deals with.
I swear, if anyone uses that word to describe him again, I’m going to throat-punch them.
Grabbing a toothbrush, I vigorously brush to chase away the lingering taste of strawberry milkshake and bile. Ugh, so nasty. After rinsing my mouth, I grab the small towel and pat my face dry while staring in the mirror.
My eyes are a bit red and puffy, but I look . . . lighter, as if confessing my past to Zach lifted a weight off my shoulders I didn't even know I was carrying.
I stop dead in my tracks when I walk back into my room. Zach's standing by my dresser, holding the collar he left here last time since I fell asleep still wearing it.
Rolling my eyes, I stroll over and take it from him. "Nosy much?"
“Your drawer was open."
"And what, you just decided to take a peek?" I tilt my chin up, quirking a brow. "What if I had a collection of dragon dildos in there?"
“Would’ve been fun to play with.” He steps closer, looming over me, but he wears his signature lopsided smirk. "You've got quite a mouth on you today. Maybe I should do something about that."
"Oh, yeah? Going to gag me?"
He jerks back, his entire body going rigid, his chest rising and falling just a little too quickly. "No gags. Hard limit."
Obviously something we should talk about. Only so I can understand, not to persuade him to do something he is uncomfortable with.
After placing the collar back into the drawer—because he doesn’t have to know I occasionally wear it around the dorm . . . for reasons—I take his hand into mine. "No toys. Just you."
He nods, grabbing my hips and pulling me closer. Then his mouth claims mine. The kiss is deep, desperate, like he's trying to devour me whole. And fuck if I don't want to let him.
I reach up and tangle my fingers in his hair. He groans—a low, guttural sound that makes my knees weak.
