Last night.
He saw it—the horror of my nightmares, the very last person on earth I want to know.
My breath locks in my throat while he sits there, relishing the expression on my face, which I’m guessing is a mere reflection of the chaos thrashing inside me.
“You are a feisty little thing, aren’t you?” He glances at the scars on his arm. “I thought I could distract you with that pillow, but you are like a carnivore.”
A loud swallow works down my throat as I gawk at him in silence, my fingers trembling, not with fear—with fury.
“That’s twice you have drawn my blood, little dove. I have buried people for lesser crimes.”
“Then maybe you should heed the warning and stay the hell away from me,” I snap, my chin trembling.
He chuckles and ditches what’s left of his cigarette in my glass of water, then rises to his feet. Hands in pockets, he starts advancing toward me.
For every step he takes forward, I take one back.
“You want me to leave you alone?”
“Yes.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes.”
“How sure?”
“As sure as death and taxes.”
He chuckles. “Really? Not going to regret kicking me out when you wake up in the middle of the night, with your thighs clenching and throbbing?”
“What?” The soundless word falls from my lips when my back hits the wall.
Fear and fury ignite as the worst realization hits me.
“How long were you here?” I stutter.
“Long enough to watch you touch yourself, moaning my name.” He smirks.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My stomach coils, pulse thundering. I thought that was a dream.
Internal. Private. Impenetrable.
Unforgivable thoughts I could blame on unconsciousness and forget myself.
“I had the pleasure of watching thewholeshow.” He strokes my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Rather aggressive with yourself, aren’t you, little dove?”
Damn it! Why?
Shame burns on my cheeks, chest squeezing until each breath hurts. I didn’t feel so exposed when he patted me down in that room at The Vault, not even when he made me lick his blood. But the thought of him seeing me at my most vulnerable feels like I have been stripped to my very bones.
A flash lights up my window, reflecting the silver streak in the night sky, washing his smug face in an eerie blue. I want to yank open the window, open my arms wide, and beg for the lightning to strike me right this second.
Bonus points for taking him out with me.
“What?” he asks and strokes my lip with his thumb. “No jabs? No snark? Or are you clenching for me already?”
