Thumping the glass down on the table with athunk,water splashed over its rim and spilled over the table’s surface. I faced Graysen and spread my hands over my hips. “Let me go.”
His expression was unreadable. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Yes, you can. Just take this off,” I said, thumbing the rope collaring me. “And allow me to walk out the gates.”
He crossed his arms and widened his stance. “Not going to happen.”
I caught the sparkle in his gaze. His mouth hadn’t smiled, but his godsdamned eyes had. Gone in a blink—but too fucking late, I’d seen it.
“This isn’t funny,” I snapped.
Somber emotions dulled the golden flecks in his irises. His humor faded. “I know it’s not funny.”
“What was all that about then?” I accused him, waving a hand around toward his face, “That secretive smile, you psychopath.”
He didn’t bother denying it. Striding over to the kitchen, he tossed over his shoulder, “All that barking at me you’ve done pretty much alleviates any doubts that you aren’t fully recovered, Miss Fire and Brimstone.”
He pulled open the concertina doors, revealing the smooth granite countertop, and began digging through his cupboards and drawers, pulling out bread, flour, sugar and honey. “You must be ravenous.”
I was hungry.Reallyhungry,my stomach reminded me with a grumble.
It was tempting to skewer him and roast him over a fire because I was so starved. Win-win.
And I needed a shower to wash my hair and untangle the knots, to scrub the stale sweat from my skin.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat… I can call the kitchen, or there might be something…” he said, the words drifting apart as he squatted down to fossick around the small fridge.
My mouth fell open as I gawked at him pulling out milk, eggs, and butter, placing them on the countertop. He was in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Barefoot. And watching him rifling through his cupboards and fridge, him without socks or shoes, in his domain, felt intimate, too intimate, like we were sharing a house and playing at domestic life together. And that wasn’t us. Could never be us.
Un-fucking-believable.
Rage boiled my blood.
I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.
He continued, “But I can cook you—”
“Cook!” I bellowed. Sage jumped to his paws, instantly alert. I didn’t understand why Graysen was acting like all of this was so fucking normal.
Thick brows shot up over eyes flared wide, staring at me as if I was the crazy one in all of this.
I threw up my hands. “Are you insane? Like, literally lost your mind insane?”
My vexation stabbed me in the gut, spitefully denying me a morsel of food so I could verbally hurl abuse at him. “You’rejust going to keep me locked up here and divide up the cooking rotation and cleaning chores, both of us sharing the space like roommates or something?”
He rose slowly, confusion shading his gaze as his eyes bounced between mine. His lips parted, and he might have started to speak, but I was beyond dealing with this kind of crazy. I barreled toward my bedroom, Sage ahead of me.
Footfalls behind me announced Graysen was right on my heels.
“Nelle—”
Hearing the jerkass utter my name lit fury like gasoline on a campfire, roaring through my blood. “What is this?” I snapped, spinning about to interrupt him. “What the hells do you think you’re playing at? If you think this,” I waved a finger between us, “is some kind of normal roomie setup, you’re fucking deranged!”
My hand latched onto the doorknob of my bedroom as he started to follow me into my tiny domain. He frowned, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “I was only offering to make you—”
Right as he crossed the threshold, I slammed the door right on his foot.
From behind the door, I heard him yowl.“Shit! Holy fucking hellsgate…shiiit!”
