About damn time.
Silence leeches through the air, electricity vibrating all around us.
Trinity just hovers, naked and twitching with the strain of restricting her breath. Defiance outlines each inch of her body, every muscle itching for a fight. Though her expression appears calm, rage glitters in her eyes, brightening her face like a spotlight.
An ancient goddess trapped in this desolate desert farmhouse.
Still, she didn’t break. She fought back.
I might actually be bruised from that throw.
I’m impressed and aroused as hell.
I’ve never had a woman challenge me this much.
A dangerous smile lifts my mouth as I survey her like a predator appraises prey. Dark admiration rises in my chest.
I’ve made my point, so I don’t press her further. I simply leave her alone in the bathroom, naked and seething.
As I head upstairs in search of clean clothes for us, the questions we’ve hurled at each other echo in the chamber of my mind.
Exactly what kind of man are you?
Why didn’t they want you?
I meant for our most recent exchange to be domineering and obedience-inducing.
But her reaction—that raw pain in her eyes, that thunderous expression—struck a nerve deep inside me.
I don’t want to think about that.
This feels far too close to empathy for my taste, but…even I can’t deny that possibility. Trinity Gallagher and I may have more in common than we believed.
Her family sent her away for some reason when she was a kid. My family—my father, in particular—kept me close. But that wasn’t any better.
Because my father hates me. He wanted me to know that every single day.
He probably still wants me to know that.
To be sent away because your family loves you probably feels as awful as being kept close because your father hates you.
She and I just might be two sides of the same fucked-up coin. And that’s the real danger in all of this.
What happens if we flip?
Brody
Outside the windows, the barren desert offers itself to the sky.
My mind is as empty as the open, limitless expanse of stillness surrounding us.
The shrinking moon paints the desert in an eerie pale glow. I’d trade every ounce of this godforsaken natural beauty for some good rest.
After eating a simple meal of sandwiches and fruit, I sequestered Trinity and myself in the first bedroom at the top of the stairs. The room has simple beige paint, a ceiling fan, gray carpet, and a mattress with plain blue sheets. She dropped into the bed as soon as she saw it and hasn’t moved.
Here we are, hours later. Me sitting by a window that overlooks this desperate landscape, and Trinity curled up on the mattress a few feet away from me, pretending to sleep.
Exhaustion presses my tired eyelids down, but I fight the pull with everything I have. Truth be told, I could sleep for a week.
