And we let her go.
52
SIENNA
Ineed to get out of here.
I need to get away.
Away fromthem, from their sad faces and pathetic apologies.
If only my body would get the fucking memo. I’m weak as a newborn kitten, at my most vulnerable when I need to be the strongest I’ve ever been.
To face the reality thatthis, whatever this weird, twisted relationship between me and the Cohens is… I can’t do it anymore.
I’ve just about made it to the stairs, my arms shaking with exertion, when my muscles lock up, a familiar scent invading my nose. The flinch is instinctive, the urge to cover myself, to hide.
“Sienna,” a low voice says. Determinedly, I stay focused on one shuffle at a time, pushing myself forward. I only pause when my eyes fall across bare feet.
I squeeze them shut. “Get out of my way, Tristan.”
“We need to talk.” His usually commanding voice is the barest whisper, full of remorse, but I don’t care to hear it. I don’t want to hear anything from him.
There isnothinghe can say to me. Not one single thing that could justify his actions.
I shake my head. “I have nothing to say to you. Please move.”
A hand touches my chin, and I flinch, throwing myself backwards in a sudden desperate scramble. “Don’t touch me!”
“I’m sorry,” he says frantically. “I was trying to do the right thing. I couldn’t think straight, and we’d just found you in that shed, and all I could think about was that you didn’t want us for your heat. I had to make sure that happened.”
My head lifts up, my eyes finally landing on his. He looks like shit, several days of stubble across his jawline, dark circles under his eyes and his usually pristine hair everywhere. There’s a deep split in his lip, and Ihatethat I notice that, that I want to know what happened. I push the urge down, locking it away and throwing away the key.
“You didn’thaveto do anything,” I say slowly. “You promised me a choice, and when I made it, you took it away. When I said no, you held me down and used your bark to keep me there so you could put me to sleep. I saidno.”
He drops his head. “I know. I panicked.”
“Well, that’s not fucking good enough for me. Stay away from me, Tristan. I mean it. Get off the stairs so I can go upstairs.”
“You can barely move,” he protests. “Let me carry you.”
“Whose damn fault is that?” I snap. “Put your hands anywhere near me and I swear I’ll bite them off.”
He leans forward, a hint of dominance entering his tone. “Sienna.”
I rear my head back. Agony spears my chest, yet another direct hit. “Don’t youdare, Tristan Cohen. Don’t you dare try that shit with me again.”
Tristan blanches. “That’s not – I wasn’t going to do that.”
“Well, I don’t trust you. And the only person responsible for that is you. Now move.”
He stands up slowly, but his lips firm as he takes a step towards me. “Hate me if you want to,” he mutters. “God knows I hate myself. But you can hate me when you’re upstairs and comfortable.”
I try to push him away, but he lifts me like I’m a feather. The whine rolls up my throat, even as I feel the urge to sink into him, to breathe him in. “Put me down.”
He holds me close as he makes his way up the stairs. “No.”
“I hate you,” I gasp. The burning behind my eyes starts to trickle down my cheeks, the emotion I’ve been keeping locked in since I woke up spilling over. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”
