“No kidding…” She pauses. “Were you and Max close?”
Now my stomach starts to really hurt. I ignore her.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, “I just realised the other night that we haven’t spoken about it. We don’t talk about anything.”
I scoff, removing the other kidney and straightening up. I place the organs into their appointed containers. “And whose fault is that, Elodie? You fight with me every chance you get. Besides, why are we getting to know each other if you’re confident about winning this bet?”
I peer at her from across the room and see her familiar scowl has returned. “You know what?” She hops off the table. “You’re right. Forget it. And fuck you.”
I bite down on my growing smirk. “I know I’m right.”
This halts her just a few steps before the door. She whirls around to face me, jutting her hip out and folding her arms. “You’re right about me winning the bet, nothing else.”
“Yeah. Sure. Okay.” I switch my attention back to the torso.
“You’re not!” she whines. “Forgive me for trying to make a fucking effort. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? And you just throw it back in my face.”
I shrug one shoulder, slightly jarred by her querulous tone. “Whatever you say, Elodie.”
“You’re such a stuck-up prick!”
“And you’re an entitled little brat.”
She gasps in outrage. “Entitled? Are you kidding me? You won’t even give me my own fucking clothes.”
I chuck the scalpel onto the table and fling off my bloody gauntlet gloves and apron. “Because you’re not getting jack shit from me while you act like a petulant child. Not even my own dog gave me this much grief as a puppy.”
“And that’s another thing,” she spits. “Why are you so uptight about your damn dog? Alfie told me not to feed him, and he stares at me like he’s going to rip my arm off. The other two are fine with me, but it’s like you’ve ordered him to chew on my bones if I get too close. It would help me feel a little safer in this stupid house if youandyour dog didn’t look at me like I was dinner.”
I press my lips together, trying not to smirk. Why do her theatrics amuse me so much? Anyone else makes my hands twitch at the urge to choke them until they shut up. But with Elodie, I don’t know, it’s entertaining. In an annoying way.
I go over to the sink and wash my hands. “It’s not the actual feeding I care about. It’s what happens after. If you feed him, he’ll be all over you. Sergeant is a fucking guard dog.” I flap my hands, then grab some paper towels. “Fucks with his image.”
Elodie barks a laugh. “That’s what you care about?” Still giggling, she adds, “He’s a dog, Caden, I don’t think he cares about his image.”
“Well, I do,” I snap. I chuck the paper towels in the bin and run a hand through my hair. It’s so damn hot in here. “You show up to a warehouse full of gang members with guns and face tats to make a deal with or to fuck someone up, you want your Cane Corso to roll over and show his belly to them? No, this shit is allabout image. Another thing you know nothing about and have no respect for.”
Her blue eyes darken as they narrow in on me. “No respect for image and status? Gosh, how superficial and shallow of me.”
I waltz towards her slowly, watching her tight face hold strong but catching the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes as I approach. That smart mouth of hers presses into a thin line. There’re so many instruments in this room with us that I could use on that delicate skin of hers. So many ways I can cripple her with pain. Press a blade into the barrier of her flesh, pierce it, break it. Watch the life of her bleed through the gap. Make my own scars on her. Watch as it trickles along her naked body, then catch the rivulets with my tongue, tasting the very essence of Elodie’s life. How sweet she’d taste.
Fuck.
I clear my throat. “Get out. We’re done here.”
“Done? No retort, no punishment?” She keeps her arms folded and her stance steadfast as I close the gap between us.
“If you want a punishment, I can gladly give it you.”
The distance between us has vanished. We’re standing just a hair’s breadth away from colliding our bodies. I leer over her and she has to tilt her head to keep her eyes fixed on mine.
“Like what?” The lightness in her tone, the curiosity lacing it, tightens my throat, boils my blood.
Her hair looks so soft. It would caress the skin on my hand if I wrapped it around and pulled. Expose that delectable neck of hers and make my own mark there. Bigger and meaner than Fiz’s hickey, which is thankfully turning yellow and fading now.
I realise I haven’t given her an answer. I realise there’s a lot I want to do to her. I lift a hand and tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear. “You tell me, Elodie, there seems to be something already on your mind.”
The slim column of her throat bobs as she swallows. Her lips part.
