I grit my teeth at how he emphasizes Allison’s nickname for me. “I know, but I?—”
“But you, what?” He steps closer.
I back toward a tree, nearly tripping over the roots to grab onto it for stability.
He never falters. “You didn’t believe my threat?”
I swallow.
“Answer me!” His scream carries through the surrounding woods, ricocheting off all the angles and branches.
“I didn’t believe you.”
“That was stupid.”
“I know,” I whisper.
He leans down, his dark eyes narrowing as his thick brows tug together. “Is this because of last night?”
I’m sputtering. “What?!”
How dare he! He thinks because he didn’t make me come, I ran.
Any sane person would run away from a fucking killer; What’s wrong with him that he thinks otherwise?
“Is this because I left you hungry?” he asks, and the gravel in his tone has my fingernails digging into the tree bark behind me. “Because you know you deserved that for lying, right?”
He’s caging me in, his massive, tattooed arms surrounding me and flexing as he awaits my answer.
“I don’t know what I know anymore.”
“Oh, so last nightwasthe issue. You’re not mad I left you unsatisfied, you’re mad that you don’t like how you felt last night,” he says, as if he’s made some life-altering revelation.
“Nothing about me trying to escape a killer who kidnapped me has to do with his touching me or not making me come. It’s got to do with that you’re a fucking killer!”
“Takes one to know one,” he spouts back, a playful grin making his face transform into something even darker than it was before.
The afternoon light is bleeding through the trees from a different angle than earlier, warning that nighttime is approaching.
I never would’ve made it, I realize.
The realization only makes the anger bubble in my gut even more.
“I didn’t kill you,” I whisper as he invades my space, dipping his forehead to mine.
“You thought you did and carried on as if nothing happened.”
“I have been at war with myself ever since that night! I’ve also been a prisoner to your whim for two fucking years!” I yell, pushing my hands into his chest.
He holds firm, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not angry with you, pretty poison. Calm down.”
His nonchalance makes me want to scream. “At this point, I don’t care if you’re mad at me. I wish—” I realize what I’m about to say and startle, closing my lips tight to prevent the admission from falling from them.
“Say it,” he growls, his hand encapsulating my throat. “Fucking say it.”
Shaking, I bite my lip.
His other hand grips onto my shirt at my right side, gripping it like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.
