I can tell he wants to. But the silent protector shit runs deep. Or something. I don’t know what it is that makes me so sure he’d never truly hurt me.
Hedidhurt you, my mind screams to me.He ordered your rape!
But somehow, in the stillness of this car, that feels abstract.The only thing that’s tangible is his eyes, locked on mine, and there’s no anger in them. Not right now.
“Come on,” he says.
He’s parked the car in a garage, and I look around wonderingly. I wish I hadn’t been so zoned out during our drive. I have no idea where we are.
I probably would have no idea where we are anyway, even if I had been paying attention. I have zero sense of direction.
He gets out and shuts the door behind him. From outside, I hear him growl in impatience then open the passenger door, unclick my seatbelt for me, grab my arm and drag me out.
I hadn’t even budged. Maybe he won’t kill me, but I have no fucking idea what he’s planning. I know I have no choice in the matter, his strength outweighs mine ten-to-one, but why would I go docilely to my fate?
I’m going to make it hard for him.
He clicks his tongue angrily as he half-carries me to the elevator. I’m not putting up a fight, because I know there’s no use, but I’m definitely being a deadweight. He doesn’t even break a sweat though. He just leans back in the elevator, staring at me. He’s seenmyface recently, in fact he’s probably spent quite a lot of time looking at it while I was sleeping, but somehow, he seems to be studying every detail of it hungrily, as hungrily as I’m taking in his appearance.
But he doesn’t touch me, merely standing back and staring as if I’m some sort of livestock he’s just bought at the farmer’s auction or wherever the fuck it is farmers get their cattle.
Then the elevator dings and he grabs me by my nape and pushes me roughly out. I stop dead in my tracks as I look around.
The elevator has just opened its doors straight into the nicest apartment I’ve ever seen. This puts the Astley hotel to shame. There’s a big entrance, and as Quill pushes me through it,I notice an enormous room with modern furniture, entirely surrounded by a balcony that looks out onto the metallic business section of Astley.
But he doesn’t push me toward there. He takes me to a side door that leads to a bedroom. It’s big but pretty bare except for a queen-sized bed, its sheets plain white. Clearly, whoever this bedroom belongs to doesn’t spend a lot of time here.
“What is this?” I ask, stopping again at the door, so suddenly Quill nearly stumbles into me. “Where are we?”
He merely grunts in annoyance, and pushes me all the more roughly into the bedroom. Then he slams shut the door behind him.
“Quill,” I say again, insisting on the name he told me I had no right to call him, because the masochist in me wants to piss him off. “Where did you bring me? What are you going to do to me?”
He slams his hand over my mouth with nearly the same force he just used on the door, then pushes me backward until I fall against the bed. The suddenness of it, coupled with the feeling that I’m falling backward, have my lips parted in a silent scream. But he doesn’t let me fall roughly. His other hand catches my back as I tumble into the air, until I’m thudding down on the soft mattress.
Then he climbs on top of me, straddling my thighs with his legs, and all thoughts of murder, Devil, and the fact that I’ve just been kidnapped by my psycho ex, vanish from my mind. All I’m aware of is his body heat, his thighs pushing down against my lower limbs, his face flush against mine as he keeps his hand over my mouth.
“I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from Devil,” he grits out, his hand over my mouth turning into a vise that feels like it’s going to break my face.
I try to answer, but my lips move wordlessly against his hand clamping down on me. At last he tears it away from my face, andI take in a deep breath before blurting out, “Why would I listen to you? You’re going to kill me anyway.”
By now, I know it’s not true, but I can’t help throwing it in his face. I saw the accusation had a weird effect on him, but I couldn’t tell what it was.
Now, I see that his piercing blue eyes are softened by something that looks like… hurt.
I’ve actually hurt his feelings.
I can’t tell if I want to laugh out loud or cry.
My body settles on both, and I let out the weirdest, most strangled noise known to man. Then my face flushes hard, because in spite of the fact that I’m currently helpless in the hands of a coldblooded killer, I’m… embarrassed.
And that coldblooded killer’s lips twitch into the shadow of a smirk.
“You’re insufferable,” he mutters, for the first time using his real voice. “You’re insufferable, cricket. Do you know that?”
Somehow, those words have more effect on me than all the rest put together. Because they sound like the old Quill. The one I know I’ve lost for good. If I ever even had him.
The desire to laugh fades, and all I can do is clamp my own hands over my face to try to hide my tears. But they’re the full-body kind, the kind that makes my stomach spasm, the snot run down from my nose, and turns my skin blotchy red. The horrible, embarrassing kind that I can’t believe I’m experiencing in front of Quill right now.
