I nod.
Caleb pulls out a key from his pocket and fiddles with the lock on my cell.
I step back. “What’re you doing?”
“I’m trying to open a portal,” he says sarcastically. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Why?” I never thought I’d wish the cage door would stay closed. “I don’t want you in here.”
Caleb stops fiddling with the lock and pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s had enough of me. “Then, tell me. How else am I supposed to help stitch you up?”
“You? With a needle? No thanks. I’ll do it myself.” I hold out my palm upturned.
“And hand you a weapon? I’ll pass.” He inserts the key into the hole.
A subtleclickfollowed by the creaking of the door echoes throughout the dungeon. Caleb reaches for the chair he dragged down the other day and brings it in behind him. The legs scrape against the floor. He locks the cage with himself inside, stuffing the key in his pocket.
I’m trapped with the devil.
The silence is deafening. Two souls glaring at one another, neither trusting and both wishing death of the other.
Caleb’s eyes capture his character perfectly. Like staring at the ocean from land, the blue draws you in. On the surface, it’s a beautiful landscape, but once you’re in, you find out the dangers lie beneath. Caleb is just like that. Inviting on the surface, dangerous beneath—and with the way he’s glaring at me, he’s just as unforgiving. It makes me question why he hasn’t killed me yet.
I’ve fought against his current, and it didn’t deter him.
But something tells me I could drown in him just as easily.
“Take off your shirt,” he says.
Feeling exposed by his command alone, my cheeks get hot. “What?”
He shakes the first aid kit.
I shake my head, trying to get myself together. “Oh, right.”
Reaching for the hem of the shirt, I peel it up and over my head. I spread the article across my chest to cover my breasts as much as I can without blocking access to my wound.
Caleb scans my body. His eyes flash gold, revealing the apex predator that lurks in the water. He swallows and makes a come-hither motion with his fingers.
Slowly, I make my way toward him, stopping until I’m standing between his spread legs.
My heart races with the growing discomfort of our proximity.
“I don’t know why you’re covering yourself. It’s not like there’s much to see.”
My wolf whimpers, but the insult rolls off me.
He adjusts his balls, re-situating himself on the stool.
I raise my brow.Seems like what he’s seeing is enough.
Despite his hatred of me, he’s not immune to a female’s body.
Just like a male. Weak.
I narrow my eyes. “Probably for the same reason you keep pawing at yourself as if you have balls.”
His only response is a spine-chilling glare. He yanks an alcohol wipe from the first aid kit, rips the packet open with his teeth. The act is shockingly primal.
