“You gained a sense of satisfaction out of hurting yourself? Odd.”
She sighed. “You’re a very frustrating man-robot.”
“Man-robot?” he asked as though bored with the entire conversation.
“Yes, I haven’t decided which one you are yet.”
He just stared at her, his hand still outstretched.
“You’re not giving up until I show you my toe, are you?” she asked.
“That’s correct.”
With a grumble, she placed her bare foot into his hand.
“Your foot is frozen. And white.”
Angie shrugged. “Poor circulation.” She didn’t want to explain that the systematic abuse she’d suffered at the hands of Fergus had led to peripheral vasoconstriction which was triggered by fear-induced stress.
Like being kidnapped and locked in a dark room.
Yes, she was really good at hiding her stress and fear. Didn’t mean that she wasn’t freaking out on the inside.
Which was probably going to lead to some other lovely issues popping up. Like more headaches and dizziness.
Breathe in with your belly. One, two, three, four.
Breathe out. One, two, three, four, five, six.
It was a trick her therapist had taught her. A way to calm down her nervous system.
It could bring her down off the edge of a panic attack. And it helped her sleep.
“You should have told me you were cold.”
“I didn’t know one could tell one’s kidnapper that they were freezing their tits off.”
He shot her a quelling look.
Yeah, she was definitely getting to him.
“Not that I really have any tits.”
Did one of his eyes narrow slightly?
Instead he shook his head and didn’t reply. That was disappointing.
Wait. Was she enjoying sparring with him?
Shoot. Was there something wrong with her that she liked that?
When he pushed down on her toe, she hissed. “Ouch! What are you trying to do? Bruise it more?”
“I’m checking to see if it is broken. Stop being a baby.”
A baby? She wasn’t a baby! And that hurt!
“Show me your other foot,” he demanded, holding out his other hand.
