Rip.
“Looking for me?”
Rip.
“Or just begging to see what I’d do to you?” I challenge heavily and I swallow hard.
The taste of her fear and my hunger choke me.
“I…” Her lips tremble, and I look for something to cover her with and grab a filthy blanket from the corner, dust flying.
“Come here.” My voice is a snarl, sharp enough to hide the tremor beneath it.
“Why?” Her voice shakes.
“Because I told you so.” With that, my little fawn steps closer, and I wrap her in the blanket, hiding every curve, every inch of skin before I do something I cannot undo.
She gags on the dust, coughing into the fabric. “It smells like dead rats.”
I almost laugh.
“Better dust than acid, princess.” I shoot back roughly, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders to make her want to crawl out of her bearskin. I lift her, her body light in my arms, and carry her out into the sun.
I haul her back to the house, her head buried in my chest. Every second of her pressed against me is a second too long. She looks exhausted and in pain and my skin itches, my body tight with the war of wanting to crush her closer and throw her as far away as I can.
“Are you okay?” I softly ask, as if I really give a fuck. Her eyes open slowly, disbelief written all over her, but she stays quiet, looking at me with her shot eyes from crying too much.
I don’t care.
I set her down against the sink, standing tall behind her, the edge biting into her hips. She gasps, knees buckling, hands fluttering as if she doesn’t know where to put them.
“Stay,” I growl, crowding her in as I twist open the tap and grab her wrists before she can move.
Her eyes flare, huge, brown, searching mine. “Liam —”
I shove her hands under the stream, holding them there when she flinches from the cold and the pain. Acid streaks wash away, leaving pale, pink welts rising in their place, turning silver. She whimpers, jerking, but I grip her harder, assessing the damage.
“Stop moving. Do you want to keep your skin? We have to rinse it off.”
Tears spill hot, running down her cheeks. “You’re enjoying this. It hurts.” She holds in that last sob.
Christ. She isn’t wrong. The acid has eaten through nearly everything she was wearing, but I acted fast enough for her skin to be unharmed except for her hands, and they aren’t too bad.This could’ve been nightmarish, as much as I wanted to scare her, this felt like it had gone too far.
I don’t want to physically hurt her. I want to mentally break her.
Then the blanket slides off.
One very slow drag down her shoulders, hitting the tiles with a wet slap. I don’t let her move because Ican’tmove.
My hands pin her in place at the sink, wrists locked under the spray. She jolts, trying to twist, arms jerking to cover herself, but it is too late for that. Her bare skin shows under the soft kitchen light, goosebumps lifting across her chest and stomach. Her breath stutters, and for one suspended moment, there is nothing but the two of us and the sound of water. My jaw locks until it aches, and she looks up at me as if she doesn’t know whether to run or beg.
“Enjoying?” She dares to ask.
I fist her hair and wrench her head back, venom snapping the silence in two.
“Do you think I enjoy saving you from yourself?” My breath is ragged against her temple, hushing through my teeth. “You’re delusional.”
However, my body betrays me. Every inch of her is pressed to me, heat bleeding into my chest.
