The lights are off and it takes me a moment to see him, standing in the doorway, half-submerged in shadows.
When I do, I inhale sharply and struggle to sit up. I wonder how long he’s been watching me. I never heard the door open.
He takes a few steps toward me, and there’s only harshness in the lines of his face. He looks down at me coldly.
“Stand up,” he orders.
My body shaking furiously, I do as he says.
“Follow me.”
I walk after him, stumbling in the darkness. He stops in the kitchen.
“Turn around.”
I swallow and dare to glance up, searching his face for the space of a second for something like warmth. But he looks down at me, his face a mask, though I detect a dark gleam in his eyes that makes me shiver.
“Go on,” he insists.
My heart hammering, I turn around, facing the counter, myback to him. I try as hard as I can to control my shaking, but I fail miserably.
He doesn’t move for some time, and I sway slightly, feeling close to passing out.
What is he planning to do to me?
Then I hear him shift behind me.
“Everest gave me your message.”
His voice is a little softer, and I detect a note of humor in his tone.
“So, you wanted it, did you? And you think you can order me around? You think I’m going to come at your beck and call? You’ve got some nerve, sending messages to me through my friends.”
I choke down a nervous sob. He’s spoken to me harshly before, but he’s never… scolded me like this. He seems furious, but there’s something else in his voice. The glint of humor is still there. Disbelief, also, and I wonder if I’ve surprised him. But beneath it all is something far darker that makes me tremble in fear and ache for his touch in equal measure.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe.
“I didn’t give you permission to speak,” his voice cuts in.
He moves closer and I shut my eyes, feeling his heat behind me. I wonder what he’ll do. Beat me? Punch me, like Ben used to do?
I jump, startled, when I feel his hand close around my neck.Strangleme?
Is he really angry enough to kill me?
My knees turn to jelly, my entire body petrified with shock and fear. But he doesn’t squeeze hard. Just enough to make breathing a slight struggle.
He draws still nearer, and I feel his breath on the back of myneck, sending chills down my spine. “So, you wanted it, pet.”
It’s not a question. I suck in shallow breaths of air, my clammy hands pressed on the cold surface of the counter.
His other hand slips under the hem of my shirt, and inches up over my stomach.
“Do you still want it?”
I swallow hard, his hand on my neck making me go slightly dizzy.
“Now you may speak,” he growls, reaching up to crush one of my nipples.
