Dorian chases away the cold with his own warmth and presence, invading the emptiness with himself. His scent, his energy, the feeling of him holding me tight.
“I hate you,” I whisper. “I hate yousomuch.”
“You don’t,” he disagrees gently, stroking my back as if I’m a child he’s trying to soothe. “You should, but you don’t. I like that a lot, you know that?”
“I don’t care what you like,” I sniffle.
“I know,” he says, sounding vaguely amused. “You don’thaveto dislike me, though. That’s a choice you make. I wish you didn’t.” He pauses for a long, long moment. Exhausted, I let my head slumpforward, my cheek resting in the crook of his neck, my gaze trained on the moon beams spilling through the window.
“You could like me, Mira. You couldallowyourself to like me. I’mnotlike your stepfather. I donothurt little girls and leave them to fend for themselves. Choose me, be mine, and I’ll give you the entire world. I’ll lay it at your feet. I’ll deliver your stepfather’s head to you on a silver platter.”
“I want you to leave me alone,” I murmur. “I want to get through this particular trial that life has seen fit to throw at me in one piece. I want to… be free.”
“You’re not my prisoner.”
A soft, sardonic puff of laughter escapes me. “Can I go back to dorms, then?”
“No. But you canchooseto be here. You can enjoy being here.”
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I admit quietly.
“I just want you,” he says. The declaration is simple, quietly spoken, and absolute. It almost sounds like a foregone conclusion; he wants me, so he’ll have me.
“I’ll never be yours,” I say. “I’ll never belong to anyone but myself.”
Dorian places a tender, gentle, misleadinglyaffectionate kiss on my head. “We’ll see about that.”
Chapter Sixteen
Somehow, I fall asleep after the insanity of the night. When I awaken, it’s to puffy eyes and a somber demeanor, though I feel lighter than I did last night. I’m still angry at Dorian—I don’t see that going away any time soon—but I no longer feel quite so weighed down by my anger.
Dorian’s already awake, sitting up on his side of the bed and squinting at something on his laptop. When he hears the sheets rustling as I stretch, he glances over at me and smiles. I pointedly avoid looking at him, instead opting to stare at the mattress. “Morning.” In the corner of my eye, I see him notch his chin at the nightstand next to me. “I brought you coffee. It’s probably cold now, I can go refill it if you want.”
I sit up straight, cracking my neck from side to side and reaching for my phone, which is charging by a blue mug of coffee. Dorian must’ve plugged it in while I slept last night, since I don’t remember doing so.
“It’s nine,” he says calmly. “You had an… emotional night, so I thought I’d let you sleep. Besides, you have all your classes online on Fridays. You usually use the day to get ahead on homework so you can have free-ish weekends, right?”
“You’re not endearing yourself to me, you stalker,” I mutter, scrolling through my messages. My lips quirk at the ridiculous text chain Cara sent me last night.
Cara: Have fun getting your tits fucked off your body.
Cara: You vetted my guy wrong. He wouldn’t even give me oral.
Cara: Let me know if you’re not dead in the morning.
Cara: I’d be V sad if you die.
Cara: Unless cause of death is too many orgasms. That must be one helluva way to go.
There’s also a single text from Valerie.
Valerie: Let me know that you’re not dead when you get the chance. BTW: Got into a fun debate with Ronny-boy after you left. I now carry his balls in my purse. I’ll tell you about it next time we see each other.
Valerie’s version of fun often entails emasculating men, and I have no doubt Ronny walked out of the bar feeling like he was two inches tall.
“I need to get to work,” I tell Dorian, taking a sip of the lukewarm coffee. I don’tfeel any more comfortable around Dorian than I did last night, and I’m eager to distance myself from him and try to find a way to leave him permanently. I don’t want to have to take extreme measures, but if he leaves me with no other options, I’ll have to uproot my life.
I lived under the rule of a gang member once; I’m not going to let that be upgraded to living under the rule of a bratva member. A fewweeks of this shit can be tolerated, maybe even a month or two, but an indefinite timeline? No.
