"I still hate you."
A smile curves my lips. "I know."
But his hand rests on my hip, holding me there. Not pushing me away. Just...holding me. And neither of us moves to break the contact.
We stay like that, tangled together, pretending this is only about feeding and nothing more.
Both of us know it's a lie.
CHAPTER FIVE
OLIVER
Ilie awake in the darkness with the weight of her still beside me.
Primsyn shifted at some point during the night, her body curled against mine like we're lovers instead of captor and captive. Her breath is warm against my shoulder, steady and deep. She's actually asleep. Vulnerable.
I could kill her right now. My hands could be around her throat before she even woke. Snap her neck. End this.
But I don't move. Don't even try.
Because some traitorous part of me doesn't want to. That same part that came undone under her hands, that surrendered so completely. The part that's been lying here for hours, wide awake, feeling the softness of her skin against mine and not hating it as much as I should.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
The moonlight filters through the window, painting silver stripes across her skin. She trulyisbeautiful. I noticed it before and can’t ignore it. The elegant line of her jaw, the curve of her hip, the way her hair falls across her face in sleep.
My enemy. My owner. Beautiful.
I'm so fucked.
Carefully, trying not to wake her, I shift away. I need distance. Need to think without her warmth clouding my judgment.
Her hand tightens on my hip. "Don't."
So she wasn't asleep after all. Or maybe I woke her. Either way, her silver eyes are open now, watching me in the darkness.
"I need to piss," I lie.
"No, you don't. You're running." Her voice is rough with sleep, intimate in a way that makes my chest tight. "Even lying still, you're running from me."
"Let me go."
"No." She shifts closer instead of away, her thigh sliding between mine. "Not yet."
"Primsyn." I try to sound firm, but it comes out strained. "This wasn't part of the deal."
"What deal?" Her fingers trace patterns on my hip, light touches that make my skin burn. "You're mine, Oliver. All of you. Your body, your time, everything. If I want to lie here with you, I will."
Anger flares, hot and familiar. Good. I can work with anger. "So that's it? You just get to do whatever you want?"
"Yes." Simple. Blunt. Infuriating.
I grab her wrist, stopping those maddening touches. "I'm not your toy."
"No. You're my livestock, my bull. We established this already." But there's something in her eyes that contradicts her words, something that looks almost like regret.
"Then why are you still here?" I demand. "You fed. You got what you needed. Why the fuck are you still in bed with me?"
