His breath hitches. He stares at me, his chest expanding, the raw hunger clashing with restraint. He doesn’t move, jaw set, fists clenched against his thighs as he holds himself perfectly still...
It hurts more than anything else.
I want him to move and give me something good. Something real. Something that isn’t Anton’s horrifying softness or Octavius’s cold control. I want to know what it feels like to be touched by Koby Maddox.Reallytouched.
My cheeks flush with a mix of humiliation and arousal as I drop my attention back to the bite mark.
“I hope it doesn’t scar,” I say.
“I hope it does. You’re making this a bigger deal than it is. I’ve survived worse wounds, but...” His gaze drops to my mouth, amusement lacing his tone, “...if you’re that worried, you can kiss it better.” He winks, the words nothing more than a throwaway comment to loosen the tension.
I don’t laugh.
It’s not funny, because I want his lips on mine. His tongue tangling, exploring, his taste exploding on my tongue.
If he won’t make the first move, maybe I should?
His expression shifts like he heard my thoughts. Hunger flickers behind his restraint and he leans in... then jerks back, jaw tight.
“I think a shower will work faster,” he says, snapping the first aid kit shut. “I’ll put everything away.”
The dismissal brings tears to my eyes. I know it’s irrational. Ijustmet him. It’s not serious, only my trauma looking for an outlet, but it still hurts, so I turn and leave.
The last thing I hear before the door shuts behind me is his quiet, strained voice.
“Fuck.”
12
Leilani
Most of my memories from Anton’s apartment have merged into one terrifying nightmare, but there are some I recall more vividly than I’d like.
The first morning stands out the most.
I didn’t sleep that night. Afraid he’d rape me the moment I drifted off, I stared at the ceiling, muscles locked, bracing for horrors I wouldn’t be able to stop if he decided they had to happen. I fought my eyelids for hours, but in the end, exhaustion won when the first rays of sunshine flooded the guest bedroom.
Anton arrived not long later, entering without knocking.
“Good morning, petal,”he uttered in a warm voice, carrying a breakfast tray and a canary yellow dress that would look best on a five-year-old.“Did you sleep well?”
My throat tightened and my tongue felt heavy in my mouth, coated with acidic fear. I didn’t answer, remembering the blade he’d wielded the night before with such ease.
“Food first,”he said, draping the dress over the armchair.“You need to eat. Healthy breakfast, petal. I’ll help you.”
He fed me like a child, peeling an apple and cutting it into bite-sized pieces. Encouragements, endearments, and praise flowed from his lips as he sliced the toast into small squares, lining them up neatly on the plate before holding one out.
“Little bites. It’s important to take care of your body.”He watched me chew, a look of adoration in his eyes.“Good. You’re such a sweet little thing,”he murmured, reaching for another.
He fed me the entire plate. His face didn’t shift the whole time, frozen in stoic softness. He held the smoothie up when I finished, tilting the glass so I could drink through the straw.
Things only got more disturbing from there.
Anton led me into the bathroom. I sat on the stool he pointed out, back straight, arms curled around my middle. The room smelled clinical, like antiseptic, polished chrome, and a subtle, sickening floral soap.
He brushed my teeth with maniacal care. My heart was beating out of my chest, every second stretching and feeling so fuckingwrong, but I kept my mouth open, afraid of what would happen if I stopped cooperating.
One moment he was butchering two men as if it was nothing, and the next he was taking care of me as if I were a three-year-old. He was obviously disturbed, mentally unstable.
