I try to quiet my breathing as I slip into the barn, the stalls and center lane lit up like mid-day. The horses are all quiet in their stalls, no doubt asleep, and there’s no one to be seen.
“McCrae?” I whisper shout.
There’s no response, and suddenly, I feel very,verystupid.
Stupid and afraid.Those will be the two markers on my tombstone when they bury me six feet under tomorrow morning.
I should’ve brought a gun, or put on a pair of shoes at the very least. Instead, I ran out here, blinded by my need to be wanted, likely right into the trap of the person who wants to kill me.
“Fucking stupid,” I hiss, backing slowly toward the barn doors.
“Why’s that?”
I freeze, my stomach bottoming out at the voice. Whirling around, I raise my hand to hit the person—catch them by surprise, if nothing else—but my assault’s stopped when a hand wraps around my wrist.
“Santos?” I don’t mean to pant his name. I’m simply out of breath.Notbecause as my gaze pinballs around his face and figure—all of which is bare beyond a pair of low slung jeans and the half-skull mask—and I like what I see. “Wh-what are you wearing?”
He doesn’t answer right away, his head tipping to the side in a predatory way. I only remember his grip around my wrist, my hand still balled into a fist, when he tightens it, pulling me forward. I crash into his bare chest, my free hand slapping against stone-like flesh.
He’s hard everywhere, chiseled flesh befitting a god, and there’s a burning in every place our skin touches. He hisses, as if he feels the same heat, before lowering his face mere inches from mine. “What are you doing out here, dressed like this? Hoping to find trouble?”
My mouth flops open. He’s stolen every fleeting thought I might have or ever have.
He chuckles, the mask rising and falling as his cheeks round into a smile—an evil smile that has the hairs on my neck standing to full attention.
“Are you looking for McCrae, little rabbit?”
Annoyance flashes through me at the nickname. “I’m not a little rabbit.”
His free hand reaches out, a single finger pushing a curl from my face. He watches his finger, continuing down until it reaches the only button keeping the poor excuse for a cover up closed.
I don’t mind being exposed around McCrae—with him, it feels safe, platonic. I suppose that’s why it’s always been so maddening. It means nothing to him whether I’m clothed or not.
But with Santos, I feel like he’s looking at me with the indistinguishable heat of hate—like an enemy, someone he wants to break and destroy by any means necessary. He’s not indifferent to me. If his heated gaze is any indication, Santos couldn’t be indifferent to me even in the coldest, darkest place.
“Looks like a rabbit. Acts like a rabbit.” He leans forward, inhaling deeply and my toes curl. My heart thunders in my ears and I can barely hear his next whispered words. “Smells like a rabbit.”
“What’s—what’s that even mean?” I squirm in his hold.Damn him—I’m whimpering like an animal in heat.
His nose flares as his finger drops from the v of my shirt. “Like fear.”
My jaw unhinges. Rage pumps through my veins at the implication, but no words come out. I feel trapped by his gaze, frozen by his touch.
He reaches out again, running his thumb over my bottom lip, dipping it into my mouth before I gnash my teeth together in silent defiance. His eyes blaze as they meet mine. “Why are you here, little rabbit?”
I lick my lips, my previous reasons feeling like shriveled excuses at this point. Even though this is my ranch, my body,my mind,I feel like Santos controls it all. In this moment, I’ve never felt more lost at sea, turbulent waves dragging me under.
“Because I can be,” I bite, fueled by my fear and anger.How dare he make me feel small.
He snickers, the sound out of place in the quiet of the barn. “You tough, little rabbit? Did you come looking for someone to love and protect and whisper sweet nothings to you?”
I seeth. “Fuck no.”
“No?” He tips his head the other way, and I see his green eyes flash beneath the mask.
“I prefer to be degraded than coddled.”
Why do I always goad those around me?
