“Fair,” he smiles. “Alright, that should do it.” He tears off the excess tape with his teeth.
Warmth rushes to my cheeks.
Okay, he really needs to stop doing that.
Caleb squeezes the sides, checking for himself. “How does that feel? Good? Too tight?”
I inspect it. “No, it’s—it’s perfect.” But I wasn’t talking about his wrapping skills.
“What you did was brave. But, now I have to punish you.” He stands and walks to the door.
“Punish me? Why?”
He shuts the door. It clicks twice. The first when it latches, the second when he turns the lock.
They’ve fortified the door since my assault on their alpha. I’m not getting out unless Caleb wants me out.
Facing away from me, he tucks the tape back into its drawer. His knuckles press into the table in front of him, as he leans all of his weight into it in a lunged position.
He isn’t looking at me.
“You put yourself in the middle of a fight.”
“Yeah and?”
He lifts his head to the ceiling and takes a deep breath and sighs audibly. Hoarse, he says, “It worried me.”
I swallow hard at his admittance.
He cares for me.
It’s like he’s let me in on a little secret I shouldn’t be privy to.
“Why would that bother you? I’m just a rogue. And you know what I did. I mean, look where we are.”
“I know where we are,” he says, voice low. “Believe me, I’m well aware of what happened here. My father’s memory haunts me in many ways, but this place isn’t one of them. That day was one of the few times he—or anyone—stepped foot in here.”
“Then what’s bothering you?”
Caleb whips his head around. “Because I’m back here again with someone I—” He presses his mouth into a thin, hard line. He turns again. “It doesn’t matter.”
I want to ask him to finish, but I already know because the same feeling is starting in me. Suddenly, it seems less scary to take my punishment than to hear him speak it. “What’s my punishment?”
“Get on your knees.”
He turns to find me waiting for him.
My knees are pressed against the cold, unforgiving tile.
He stops in front of me. He exhales, gripping my chin to force me to look up at him. “Do you think you can play fast and loose with your life? Have you forgotten that such privilege belongs only to me?”
The way he says it so possessively, you would think he is a god who gets to determine the souls he can collect.
“I don’t need you to fight my battles,” I say softly. “I’ve survived far worse.”
His lips press into a hard line, and his jaw ticks. “What was your goal, anyhow?”
I’m not sure what he wants me to say. I didn’t want to see them fight and didn’t want to choose—although the choice was obvious.
