His gaze is narrowed, singeing me with simmering frustration.
Up close, I can tell that he’s exhausted. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, which I guess would make sense, if he’s been running around putting out fires.
Still, this isn’t something I want or need to be thinking about. I don’t care if he’s tired, or if he has excuses for why he didn’t come back. They seem pretty thin to me, anyway.
This ishishouse. It would take all of two seconds to wander over here and just sayI’m busy.
At the same time, he doesn’t owe me that, because despite this weird role we’ve slipped way too effortlessly into, we’renotin a relationship. He’s my captor; the man I hate.
The man whoalsostood in this same spot five days ago and told me he cared for me. That he’d captured me because I’mspecial.
Whoinsiststhat I’m in here because he can’t be away from me, like some kind of obsessive, lovestruck maniac!
You’d think if that were true, nothing would keep him away from me for days.Not even an active war.And I don’t know why that’s bothering me, because Idon’twant him fawning over me, or trying to possess me.
I swear I don’t…
“First of all, Angel, I told you that I amnotgoing to kill you, so stop fucking bringing it up,” he hisses, his expression taking on a severity that’s winding up my gut like a crank. “Second of all, Iassure youI have not imprisoned you here as a ready-made sex toy. Nor do Ineedto butter you up for anything.”
My lashes flutter. “Oh, no?”
“Uh-uh.” He shakes his head, easing his body closer to mine.
I try to back up, but a large hand appears on my waist. “Well, that’s how it seems…”
“I don’t care how itseems,” he snarls. “I amtellingyou that you’re not a toy to play with when I’m bored, pajarito. Youarespecial, and different, and I wasn’t lying or exaggerating when I said that. But make no mistake, you still belong to me, and only me. Youwill notfly away from me again, entiendes?” His mouth is hovering over mine, so close I can almost taste him.
“No…” I rasp. “Idon’tunderstand. I’m not a sex slave, but I belong to you… I’m not a prisoner, but I’m locked up. Dime, Diablo… what do you want from me? Truly?”
A rumble comes from his chest, and I don’t want him to feel me shaking, but there’s no way to avoid it when he’s a literal breath away from swallowing me whole.
But the strange thing is that he’s vibrating too.
Stiff and subtly shivering, like when your muscles shake from the strain. He feels like he’s fighting with all of his strength to hold back, the hand on my waist featherlight.
He isn’t grabbing me like thepossessionhe claims me to be. The way he’s reacting to me is betraying his words, and it’s confusing as shit. Just like the last times; begging me for more, while insisting that I’mhis. Pleading for consent while keeping me locked in a damn cage.
He acts like if I said no, he might go absolutely mad and reduce the world to rubble, but he would still adhere to my wishes? It’s irrational.
What the hell does he want??
“I don’t… know,” he growls, jaw clamped. “I just want you, because you’re mine. That is the only certainty I have for you, Angel… You.Are. Mine.”
He’s telling the truth. It’s obvious, but it doesn’t help because it still makes no sense, and I can tell he’s just as troubled by this as I am.
Whatever is happening between us, I can’t deny that it’s empowering. The Ivory doesn’t beg, doesn’t wait, doesn’tkneel.
Yet forme, he’s done all of those things, when admittedly, he doesn’t have to.
And part of me knows the best way to capitalize on this is to tell him to stop. Put his money where his mouth and say fuckingno.
But that sounds a lot less fun than, say… I dunno…
Pressing his buttons? Just a little… Like a bratty little hoe.
Push him over the edge, and let him pull me with him. Because let’s be real, it was only a matter of time before one of us snapped. It makes the most sense for it to be him.
I have the key to The Ivory’s cage…Might as well open it and see what he does.
