Havoc is thoughtful for a long while, still studying me, with the sounds of the forest the only break in the pregnant quiet. His expression is unreadable. It’s unbearable. Finally, his voice is a harsh whisper almost lost on the air between us when he speaks. “You have no regrets we fucked.”
Did this man get hit on the head and go stupid when I wasn’t looking? I’m not saying the sex was a life-altering experience, but it was undoubtedly the best I’ve had. And given how…satisfied…he seemed last night, it was damn good for him as well. There’s no need for him to snap into such a rotten mood about it.
“Seriously, Havoc,” I exclaim with a false laugh to salvage my pride and to take control of this suddenly awkward conversation. “Either you’re deliberately trying to provoke me, or you’re fishing for compliments.”
I slide away from him when he narrows his eyes on me. His lethal gaze slices me with more deadly precision than a scalpel. “Do I look like I fish for fucking compliments?”
Matching his energy, I drop my mouth into a smirk. “No, but it’s one or the other, pal.”
“I’m not your fucking pal.” His ferocious scowl dissolves into a full-on stink eye that has me fighting against genuine laughter. “Keep it up, Kerri, and watch what happens.”
I inch back toward him and trace a finger over his furrowed brow. His expression relaxes under my touch. “Why are you always grumpy, even on such a beautiful morning?”
The question tumbles out of my mouth before I stop it, and I realize my error instantaneously. Havoc grabs me by the wrist. He twists me, forcing me into a punishing position on the bench, half facing him with my arm pinned behind my back. “Because some of us didn’t grow up loved and happy. Some of us are fucked up in the head.” He brings his face close enough for our lips to brush. “I warned you, Kerri. I’m ruined, and I’ll ruin you, too, because that’s what monsters do.”
Oh, God.
My heart shatters into a million pieces.
“You’re not a monster,” I whisper. “And I’m sorry for what you suffered.”
“Keep your fucking pity,” he sneers against my lips, his erratic heartbeat hammering against my chest.
“Pity? Who the hell pities you? Not me.” I lift my free arm to stroke his hair, running my fingers through the soft, sandy-blonde strands. “Let me go, Havoc. You’re hurting me.”
He frees my wrist. Instead of moving away, I wrap my arms around him. I hold him until the tension ebbs from his taut muscles. But Havoc has a way of turning something as simple as a hug into so much more. His powerful arms fold around me, and I melt against him. I nuzzle his neck and inhale the fresh, woodsy scent that clings to his skin. Each rapid beat of his heart resonates through me. For these few quiet moments, we’re one entity. Like the universe granted my wish to grind time to a halt.
Overcome with emotion, I fight the urge to cry. To purge the frustration and fear accumulated over the last weeks. Instead, I push away from him because being in Havoc’s arms is too much of—everything.
It’s overwhelming.
That’s when I notice he’s outside wearing nothing more than a T-shirt and jeans. I’m about to suggest we head inside when I see more cuts on his left forearm. Cuts he must have put there before I woke up this morning.
Time kicks back into motion as rage pours through me like lava, and I lose it. I leap off the bench, and my fist flies, landing square in Havoc’s chest. “You asshole.”
“The fuck?” His eyes go wide as he glances at where I hit him before moving back to my face.
I stab an accusatory finger at him. “What the hell did you do?”
Havoc’s brows knit together and his upper lip curls in a nasty snarl. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”
I ignore his nasty question. “Was sex with me so awful that you had to…” I plant my hands on my hips. Then shake my head, deciding I won’t have this conversation. If he wants to carve his flesh to ribbons, that’s his problem. I have my own issues to deal with right now. I toss my hands in the air. “You know what? Never mind.”
I march toward the cabin, but Havoc stalks after me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
On second thought…
I stop and turn. Grab his arm. “Thisis what’s wrong.” I cradle the wounded limb as if I’m handling the most precious of objects. “Why did you do this?”
He’s staring at the cuts. At where my fingers lie curled around his wounded flesh. “It makes the pain stop.”
“What pain, Havoc?” I carefully, so gently, drop his arm to cup his face. “Talk to me.”
For a second, I think he will. Hope flares but quickly dies when he shoves me away. “Go inside.” He walks backward. “I’m going to check the grounds.”
“You don’t have a jacket,” I remind him because apparently, I’m an idiot who points out the obvious. It’s October, and it’s cold. But this jerk snorts out a bitter grunt before turning to storm away. “Havoc, wait.”
He freezes, his shoulders tense. “What?” he grinds out between gnashed teeth.
