It was a joke… Fuck, lighten up.
Not every word out of your mouth needs to mean something.
“You caught me,” his voice comes out in an almost seductive purr as he stands. Close enough that if I wiggle my toes, they’ll touch his fancy Italian loafers. “I always wanted my very own dolly to play with. Do you not like the stockings?”
“They’re… nice,” I mumble. His head slants. “But, um… I don’t need them.”
He nods, hovering, covetous gaze pouring over me once more.
I’m not breathing. Which is a problem, since my heart is beating way too fast and I really need to take a breath. But instead I’m just locked in place by his glittery black irises, and the scent of him, like rich leather, saffron and smoke. He smellsexactlylike an attractive man twice your age who looks at you like he wants to drape you over his lap and bring one of those large, dominant hands down against the quivering flesh of your ass in a delectablesmack!
I flinch when he reaches out to touch a wisp of my hair. Unaffected by my jumpiness.I’m sure he likes it.
“It’s longer than the last time I saw you,” he murmurs, sounding almost awestruck. By my hair having grown out a few inches.
As if it’s some illustrious magic trick onlyIcan perform, not a basic human trait.
“Well, it has been four years,” I quip, just barely pulling off the sass I was going for.
“Oh, has it,guasón?” He deadpans, scoldingly, though there’s too much amusement on that pink fucking mouth. I huff and bite a grin away while he watches it closely. “I hadn’t noticed the longest four years in recorded history.”
My grin slips away and I gape up at him. He’s really only an inch or so taller than me, but I’m sure I’ll always be lookingupat him…
A scared little boy on the floor of the closet.
Why is he saying these things to me…?
Like last night… Acting as if hemissedme terribly. Like he’s been driving himself mad waiting for me to show up and try to kill him again. It makes no sense.
He’s my parents’ killer, and I’m the true heir to the throne he sits on.
We’reenemies. But more than even that, we’re virtual strangers.
Thelongestfour years…? Really??
“You already have me in the cage, Diablo,” I mutter. “You don’t have to feed me lines like you’re trying to pick me up in a bar. As we speak, I’m yourprisoner.”
“Why are you being grumpy?” He asks calmly.
Something about his blasé attitude toward all of this, while I’m standing here in a dress that he gave me to wear, sets off my frustrations like a timer.
I’m too vulnerable. Flushed and itchy and insecure and I simplycannot…
“What do you even want right now, Diablo?!” I bark. “Like,whatdo you need? Honestly, you have me locked up in a fucking cage, just like you wanted! Are you going to stand in here hassling me the whole time, or are you just going to get it the fuck over with already??”
His facial expression shifts fast. There are still loads of emotions there, but indignation seems to be winning out. “Getwhatover with, pajarito?”
I swallow rough, like a mouthful of sand.
“Listen to me, and listen closely, Angel.” He lines our faces, barely breaking a growl he’s so collected. It’s terrifying. “You…are not like them.”
I’m about to ask who he’s referring to, but he gives me a look, and I think I get it.
He means… the prisoners? I’m not like them?
“Had I known you were here, that it wasyousneaking all over on my island, you wouldn’t have set foot in that fucking cell, do you understand? You are different, and you’remine, andthat aloneis why you’re here, Angelito. Because I’ve wanted you back since you ran away from me…” His eyes fall over me once more, and he licks his lip.
I shift, fighting to remember that resentment.I know it’s still in there somewhere…
