And how does he twist something that should terrify me into something almost…affectionate?
Maybe that’s not an act. Maybe the gentleness is just as real as the brutal parts of him.
When I dare to look up, I see just that. His entire expression has morphed into that of concern. Of love.
We’re both sick. The sickest.
“Oh, no,” I murmur to myself.
“What is it?” Knox lowers me into another chair draped in towels. Fresh. Clean. Prepared for me.
“I—” Maybe if I hear him say that he loves me, it could help. Maybe we’ll be mad together, and I won’t feel so alone anymore. “Knox…”
His cock jerks under the towel, his stare scorching over my bare skin. He reaches out to me with his hand, and I wait eagerly for him to touch me.
He does, pushing his thumb into my mouth, coating it with my spit.
My heart stutters when he pulls out, bringing it to his mouth and sucking. He’s practically savoring it, then he growls before letting it pop free.
I melt into the chair, fingers clinging to its edge just to keep myself tethered to the earth.
“Don’t move.” The sudden shift in him knocks the breath out of me.
Before I can process it, Knox is already out of sight, heading somewhere behind me.
“What’s going on?” My gaze locks on the hooks in front of me, as if they might hold all the answers.
I can’t bring myself to look back. I don’t want to see him walking up the stairs, away from me. It’s not until I hear clothes rustling that I let out a relieved sigh. He’s getting dressed, that’s all.
I sink my teeth into my inner cheek to bite back an embarrassed sob. In less than a day, this is what I’ve turned into. Painfully dependent on my captor.
He’s gotten into my head, deep and fast. If I keep letting him do that, to reside there and play games with me, I might just let him do anything.
“Trouble.” In a plain T-shirt that stretches over hardened muscles and faded jeans falling over a tapered waist, Knox is back.
A shadow. A menace.
Crowding my space.
Annihilating my doubts.
Owning me.
My lips are about to break into a smile, and then I see it.
He has a bottle in his hand. Clear, thick oil sloshes inside as Knox tests its weight.
It’s…tanning oil.
What he uses on his other hides.
On the people they’ve killed.
“You lied to me. I really am your…” My heart, I think it’s stopped beating. “Your living-hide.”
“No, I said you were mine.” He cocks his head, studying me with something closer to clinical fascination than lust or hate. “I meant it.”
“You’re going to kill me.” A shiver rakes down my spine, tightening my throat. “I was right.”
