I stare at him, trying to work out what the right thing to do is. Societal conventions suggest I should let him go. He’s not my prisoner. We live in a free country.
Following societal conventions hasn’t gotten me anywhere with Neo thus far. He certainly hasn’t honored my wishes when I’ve asked him to stop with the pranks.
Maybe I shouldn’t honor his now.
Yes,the monster whispers.He’s ours. Don’t let him leave.
I waver, but that’s when his gaze finally lifts to mine. There’s no life. No spark. No mischief.
But there is a tear. Just one.
I don’t like it.
Not a single bit.
Yanking the bags out of his hands, I throw them behind me. I’ll get them later, or Cade can make himself useful. Before Neo has a chance to protest, I have him in my arms and over my shoulder.
“Wylder!” He whacks on my back. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“You’re not an imposition, and you’re not leaving.” My voice is flat, betraying none of the emotions roiling under my skin. “That’s final.”
He doesn’t speak until I walk us into his room and dump him on the bed. I go to the door, but I don’t leave. I close it and flip the lock before turning to face a slack-jawed Neo.
“You’re not leaving,” I repeat, grinding my teeth as a little of my temper slips through. “You belong here.”
Neo sneers from the bed. “You’re not the boss of me.”
I draw closer until I’m looming over him. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
5
WYLDER
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Neo’s question is suspicious. It’s kind of galling, given all the shit he’s pulled over the past few months.
“You’ll work for me.” I edge even closer to the bed, my knees almost brushing against Neo’s. “Fill in while my assistant is inconveniently gone.”
“Do we need to have another biology lesson?” Neo taunts. “She can’t plan when she gives birth, tiny-dick man.”
I don’t know which irritates me more—what he’s implying about my intelligence, or that damned nickname.
I do know. It’s the nickname. It’d be so easy to prove him wrong…but that’ll never happen. But I also like that he has a bit of his spark back. That I was right to haul him upstairs and threaten him.
“Stop deflecting. You’re going to work for me, and that’s final.”
“Fuck no.”
“You’re basically doing it already,” I counter, aiming for a softer approach. “You’ve been answering my emails for weeks now.”
“Because you’re terrible at it. You don’t even include a greeting or a signature.”
“Greetings are a waste of words. The email tells you who it’s from, so a signature is not needed.”
His tongue darts out and wets his lips. “I need more than that. Ask me, Wylder. No,beg.”
My monster croons.
“Will that make you agree?”
