Текст книги "Destroyed"

Автор книги: Pepper Winters

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“You would never be able to hurt me, dobycha.”

My ears pricked at the exotic word.

His eyes widened, then narrowed in annoyance. He’d slipped—used a non-Australian word—it pissed him off.

“Is that a challenge?” I whispered, unable to tear my eyes away from his silver scar. Someone managed to hurt you. You can’t ignore the evidence.

His lips twitched. “It’s a promise.”

In that case, I had to teach him a lesson.

With my free hand, I slinked my fingers through my curled and carefully styled hair. My heart thudded harder as I pulled the single clip free and brought my arm down. Keeping my hand hidden by my side, I opened the clip with practiced fingers and slid the blade into locked position. Palming the knife, I smiled. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. And never hold a woman against her will again.”

Confusion flickered in his eyes, followed by a burst of understanding. He shoved me away but was too late.

In a quick swipe, I dragged the small, sharp blade across his forearm. Not too deep, but not too shallow either. Instantly, a well of crimson showed in the tear of his black shirt.

“You should’ve let me go when I asked nicely.”

He sucked in a harsh breath between his teeth. Grabbing me again, his fingers flexed around my wrist. “You think pain affects me?” His eyes flashed. “It only makes me worse.”

The burn of satisfaction was nothing compared to the biting throb of Fox’s fingers. His touch seemed to zap me with a million volts. My mind swam with contradictory things.

I wanted to run.

I wanted to kiss him.

I wanted to hurt him.

I wanted to touch him and bite and drag sharp nails down his back as he entered me.

Shit, Hazel. What are you thinking?

Fox sneered, twisting his scar. “You cut me.” His eyes found mine again, glinting with smoke and smog. “That means you owe me.”

I’d reached the end of my tether. I couldn’t let this man warp my brain and play my body like a puppet. “I owe you nothing.”

The last few weeks caught up with me, and all I wanted to do was attack him. He deserved it for detaining me, antagonising me, and proving that a life on my own was no life at all. I’d been kidding myself when I said I didn’t need to share my bed with another.

The last few weeks I would’ve given anything to have a guy to lean on, to cry in their arms, and share the burden of Clara’s future. Clue was incredible, but I as much as I would deny it, I wanted a different kind of taking care of.

Fuck this man for making me crave. Fuck him for showing me how weak I truly was.

“Zel?” Clue appeared from the gloomy shadows. Her eyes popped wide seeing me trapped by a scarred stranger dressed in black. Sympathy glowed in her eyes as she sensed just how close I was to losing it; then they filled with fiery rage.

“Hey! Get the hell away from my friend.” She charged forward like a mini torpedo. “Let her go!” Grabbing my other wrist, she pulled hard, causing me to lurch forward only to be yanked back by Fox. I became the toy in a game of tug-of-war.

“Clue.” I tripped sideways as she pulled harder. “Clue.” My hand tightened on the knife as my shoulders screamed in pain. “Clue. Stop!”

She froze, breathing hard. Glaring daggers at Fox, she captured my face with her gentle hands. She conjured so many memories touching me that way. Considering we both grew up with no affection, we often touched and hugged.

She helped ground me even while tearing me into pieces. How many times had she touched Clara the same way? The same love and adoration glowing in her eyes. I hadn’t stopped to think how hard this would be on her. She was losing a part of our family, just as much as me.

“You’re okay. I’m here.” She dropped her hands.

I smiled. “Thanks.”

“And who the hell is this?” Fox asked, his voice low, deceptively smooth. Looking Clue up and down he muttered, “You’re interrupting. Leave.”

Clue placed her hands on her dainty hips. “I have no intention of leaving. I’m her friend. Let her go.”

Fox shook his head. “Not till I get some answers. Plus, she cut me so she owes me a small debt.”

Oh, God. A debt? Images of him extracting a toll from me made my core clench despite my anger.

“Clue?” Corkscrew appeared. His black eyes widened taking in the scene before him. He’d obviously just finished his fight—and most likely won judging by the lack of injuries.

Clue stepped toward him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

In a lightning move, Fox wrenched the knife out of my hand and pressed it against my side. He’d stolen my blade so fast no one had seen.

I went desperately still. Ice-cold fear siphoned through my blood. Shit. A second ago I battled attraction and lust. Now, I fought the urge to scream and run.

“Is everything okay here?” Corkscrew puffed out his chest, looking entirely terrifying with chiselled muscles and dark skin.

Clue waved at us. “This idiot won’t let my friend go. Make him.” She smiled coldly at Fox. “You haven’t had the pleasure of meeting the top ranked champion of the Stingrays.”

Fox nodded at Ben. “I know of you. You’re good, but you don’t want to get in the middle of this.”

Corkscrew paused, head cocked to the side. Then a burst of excitement filled his eyes. “Wait. You’re Mr. Obsidian. Wow, it’s an honour, sir.” Gone was the angry vibe, replaced with interest.

I couldn’t believe it. This man was like a rock star with fans and crowds screaming his name. The entire time we’d argued not one person had come near him. Eyes never stopped watching, but everyone preferred to keep their distance.

Clue’s mouth hung open. “That’s the guy you were talking about?”

Corkscrew smiled. “Yep. Undefeated in every fight. Sets the bar high.”

My stomach fluttered then turned to stone as Fox smiled thinly. “You’re correct. Undefeated.” He stressed the word. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have unfinished business with this woman.” He angled the knife deeper into my side, threatening heat and pain—entirely too close to puncturing my skin.

I glared, wishing I could knee him in the balls. We didn’t have unfinished business. I wanted my freedom.

Clue shook her head and came closer. “You don’t have to go with him, Zel. Doesn’t matter if he owns this joint or not.” Her almond eyes sparked when she looked at Fox. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

I wanted to tell her about the knife in my side. I wanted to run home and hug Clara. I wanted to scream bloody murder, but Fox twisted the blade until I winced, shattering everything I wanted and leaving me with the only thing I could do.

“Just a chat. That’s all,” Fox whispered, so low only I heard.

The fact he’d willingly kidnap me at knifepoint just to ‘talk’ made my protective instincts swell to protect Clue. I needed her safe, so I didn’t have to worry about anyone while I laced into this maniac.

It was time to show Fox he’d captured the wrong woman to interrogate.

Plastering a convincing smile on my face, I said, “No, it’s fine, Clue. I’ll go and talk. I’ll see you back at home, okay?”

Clue shook her head. “No. I’ll wait. Whatever he wants to talk about can’t take very long.”

“You’ll leave,” Fox snapped. “I have a lot of questions to be answered. I’ll make sure a car sends her home when we’re through.”

Clue glared at Fox, her eyes full of fire. She never took orders well. Coming closer, she whispered in my ear. “Blink twice if you want me to kick his ass.”

I almost did it. Almost.

But this was my fight—not hers. I needed her gone so I could win. Plus, if I couldn’t go home yet, I would rather Clara be cared for by her Auntie rather than a strange babysitter.

“I’m okay. Honestly.” I forced my eyes to stay wide, hoping she saw a relaxed and willing conversationalist. I didn’t want her to see just how terrifying Fox truly was. And not just because he was a lunatic. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t trust myself with him. I didn’t trust what would happen if he took me away from the public eye.

Fox didn’t just want to talk. The awareness bound us together—a static charge vibrating ceaselessly where we touched.

I tried to make myself care that the moment he got me behind closed doors, I expected we’d both give in to more than just talking.

And I hated myself for needing a small dirty moment where I was nothing more than a woman seeking a release with a menacing man.

After a tense moment, Clue nodded. “Don’t worry about Clara. I’ll take care of her.” Squeezing my hand, she murmured, “I’ll wait up for you.”

Corkscrew gave me a concerned look. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

His concern flurried my heart. He was a good man—worthy of my best friend. “I’m sure.”

Clue narrowed her eyes. I had no doubt she’d harass me for every detail of whatever was about to happen.

I stifled my groan as Corkscrew wrapped an arm around her, and they disappeared into the crowd.

Fox murmured, “We’ll go to my office. It’s quiet, and we won’t be disturbed.”

My heart rabbited.

Office. Undisturbed.

He should’ve said dungeon, and then I would’ve believed him.

A steely resolve came over me. It helped me ignore the spark smouldering between Fox’s body and mine. Clue was gone. She was safe. Now I could worry about how to free myself from this crazy idiot stabbing me with my own knife. I’d had a moment of weakness, entertaining thoughts of forbidden sex, but now I was clearheaded.

“I’m not going to sleep with you, you know,” I muttered as Fox pushed me toward a wide set of stairs leading up into the dark.

He huffed. “I said I wanted to talk. Not to fuck.”

Such a crude word.

I hated that it turned me on.

A shudder travelled the length of my spine. His voice was perfectly level, restrained and controlled, but beneath his careful tone lurked lethal potency.

Climbing the wide stairs, he said, “I expect answers. I want to know who you are. I want to understand why you’re different.”

My stomach erupted with fluttering winged things. “What makes you think I’ll answer? Having a knife pressed against me doesn’t make me very eager.” I sucked in a breath as he twisted the blade once more before withdrawing. Holding the knife up, he tucked the blade away and slipped it into his pocket.

“There. Now, you’ll talk.”

No, now I’ll lie.

4

Roan

I’d learned from an early age to use people’s weaknesses against them. Taunting the fragile, mocking the littler. Instead of being told no, I was encouraged. Given the tools to excel in murder, and browbeaten into being the perfect obedient machine.

The moment I set eyes on her, I tasted a delicious combination of fear and strength. Weakness and bravery. Sadness and resignation.

Instincts and needs that I’d buried and ignored volcanoed to the surface. I lost control. I broke every rule and didn’t give a fuck.

She woke a part of me I didn’t know existed—a man not layered in ice and coldblooded disassociation. This new man ached with every inch; he craved heat and fire and lust.

And so I stole her.

And I took her.

Over and over again.

* * *

Shit.

How the hell had this happened? This never happened. Never in my life had I submitted to a bodily craving. That sort of thing had been tortured out of me. I didn’t suffer from a lack of discipline.

Ever.

Until now.

The instant I saw her I lost a part of myself. I became drunk on a new sensation. Something about her drew me. I didn’t lust or fuck or need. To be close to another filled me with horror not joy. So why the hell did I want to know her? Why were my thoughts full of nakedness and heat? What the fuck am I doing?

I glanced at her. With her shoulders back and chin thrust forward, she looked like she was headed to war not a conversation. Every step was calm and brave; every motion full of confidence and poise.

The stolen blade hung heavy in my pocket, thudding against my thigh with every step. I’d lost control and kidnapped someone at knife point. Not just anyone—a woman I touched.

I fucking touched her!

I never touched anyone voluntarily unless it was in a fight. It just wasn’t done. My entire life I’d avoided every iota of touch and contact. And yet the instant I wrapped my fingers around her arm, my entire body shuddered with some unseen power filtering from her to me.

It intoxicated me. It bewitched me. It fucking scared me.

Only when I looked directly into her eyes did I taste just how much passion, fear, strength, sadness, and rebellion lived inside her. She was like an unlit firework—contained and neatly packaged on the outside, but a hazardous explosion on the inside.

“I want my knife back,” she murmured, her eyes connecting with mine. All I could think about were emeralds and every green gemstone I’d ever seen. Her eyes mocked my own—whereas I had no colour, she had every spectrum.

“You’re not getting it back till I say you can.” Until I understand this insane drive to touch you.

“You’re not my owner,” she snapped. “This isn’t a discussion. It’s my property, and I want it back. I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m not playing your crazy mind games anymore.”

The familiar strength and rage shot up my spine. Tearing my eyes from hers, I strode faster up the steps.

She took the steps two at a time and brushed past with a cold look. Her shoulder grazed mine. My vision turned red, muscles locked down, and the familiar command to hurt made me tremble.  My jaw locked as I fought the orders.

Shit. She isn’t different after all.

My fucking heart sank. I’d chased her, trapped her, and dragged her up here because I’d dared to hope. Dared to believe that I was drawn to her because she might be impervious to my training. That I might be able to touch and be touched.

Turned out I could touch her without falling into old patterns, but she couldn’t touch me.

My heart hardened in disappointment. So she wasn’t my cure after all. I’d hoped—

You’d hoped it was fading. That you could finally live a life where you wouldn’t automatically punch someone in the fucking face or slam a dagger into their heart.

Tough shit.

I doubted I’d ever be free, and that just made me fucking homicidal.

Reaching the top of the stairs, her lips parted as she took in the large landing. Skating her eyes over the table and black couch, she drifted toward the glass perimeter. From here, the arena looked like a modern day version of the coliseum. Men fought in cages and rings, unconscious bodies were tended to by medics. All that was missing were the lions and other exotic animals the Romans used to kill unlucky slaves.

I shared a certain bond with those unfortunate souls.

No one would look at me and think I was slave. But I had been. I still was. I probably would be forever.

I didn’t say a word as she pushed off from the balcony and moved toward a statue of a twisted and gnarly tree.

The sculpture took me eighteen days with barely any sleep to finish. I’d warmed the metal just enough to twist and distort. I turned a pristine lump of bronze into a tortured piece of art. The tree looked like it was heralded by demons and designed by masochists. Its branches only suitable for carcass-eating vultures to perch.

But I liked it. In fact, it was one of my favourite pieces. It represented nothing, but at the same time, everything.

It was me. Bared raw.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, she ran her fingertips over the cold metal. The instant she touched it, my cock lurched. It fucking lurched for the second time in my sorry existence.

Heat. Delicious wanting heat blazed in my blood. Lust. So unknown and almost unrecognisable. It grabbed me around the balls, making me hard, filling my cock with new life.

My dick knew better than to act on its own. It’d been taught to never react. Thoughts of release and sex were beaten out of us at a very early age. And if we disobeyed—well…

The fear had kept me impotent, but this woman—this magical infuriating woman—had graced me with a fucking hard-on. I gritted my teeth, revelling in the sensitivity as I swelled, thickened, and ached with unfamiliar need. The flush of heat boiled the ice in my blood, leaving me steaming, angry, and on the cusp of something entirely alien.

Two years I’d waited for the thawing, and for two years it never happened. But tonight. Tonight, all thanks to one woman, I might’ve found the chink—the weakness—in my brainwashing.

She bent her spine, investigating the artwork closely. My balls drew tighter, throbbing.

Her body beckoned me. She was different, elusive, unobtainable. And my cock wanted unobtainable. For the first time since my life of slavery began, it came alive between my legs.

I didn’t think I could stand the craving. It was too strong—too demanding.

I trembled for an entirely different reason. I wanted to scream at her for having such power over me while at the same time bow at her feet for freeing me from the cage I existed in.

Then came the fear.

The anxious sweats at misbehaving, the knowledge I’d disobeyed a direct order. Punishment would be horrific.

They’re not here.

I closed my eyes, trying to get a grip—re-centring myself.

“Hey. Umm, are you okay?”

My eyes flew wide only to be trapped by her half-angry, half-concerned gaze. Her scrumptious body wrapped in gold and silver chased away my fear and my mouth watered at the thought of taking her.

Pity filled me. Pity for her because now that I’d tasted what she could do for me, I wasn’t letting her go. She wouldn’t be going home tonight. Or the next or the next or the next. She’d be in my bed. She’d open her legs and I’d—

Goddammit, I’m acting as if I’m fucking fifteen.

Trouble was I had a lifetime of lust fizzing and bursting inside. Two orgasms I’d enjoyed since I hit puberty. Only two. I was fucking desperate for a third.

“I’m fine. Why?” I eyed her provocative dress, drinking in her gentle curves; filling my mind with images that any man starved of sex would imagine. I wanted to run a tongue down her cleavage. I wanted to taste her skin before sinking deep, deep inside her.

I’d never felt this way. Never.

She stood taller, baring her shoulders with fearlessness and a fine edge of resentment. “You’re shivering. And frankly you look sick.” Waving her hand, she scowled. “Not that I care if you’re sick, of course. Look, I’m done with all of this. Give me back my knife and let me go.” One hand went to her side, rubbing where I’d placed the blade. “You’re a bastard for forcing me against my will. If Clue hadn’t been there, such a tiny weapon wouldn’t have stopped me from ripping off your balls.”

First image into my head was her tiny hands cupping my aching balls.

Second image was the ludicrous suggestion she could even touch me without my permission.

I couldn’t stop it. Cold laughter erupted from my mouth. I froze, cursing this woman. Cursing myself for these new, strange feelings. I never laughed. I never touched. I never got hard. I never wanted to fuck.

She was a witch. She was magical. She would fix me.

“How much was Corkscrew going to pay you for tonight?”

Her nostrils flared. “Excuse me?”

“How much? To fuck you?”

She shuddered. “That’s what you think I am? I thought you were joking before.” She shook her head, a low noise coming from her throat. “Unbelievable. You’re a bastard and an asshole. For your information, he’s my best-friend’s boyfriend. He’s a nice guy—unlike you.” She paced on the landing, her dress whispering around her legs with every step. “Fucking unbelievable. I want to leave. I’m done talking to you.”

My muscles shivered, feeding off her temper, letting her spirit clash with mine. Another lesson I’d been taught: leech the feelings off another before stealing everything. It allowed me to feel their fear, live their terror—the only thing I could get in those days.

Dragging my eyes over her body, my fucking cock hardened to a rock. Her breasts were squished inside the lace of the dress, her waist so tiny I could crush the life out of her with just my hands. Her legs…

Shit.

The moment my eyes landed on her legs, memories swamped me.

“See her? The prima ballerina?”

My eyes had trouble focusing through the binoculars, but I could make out a girl in a tutu with legs that looked matchstick thin and so easily breakable. “Yes.”

“She’s the target tonight when her father and mother are asleep.”

I’d long ago stopped asking why. I never got a reply, only a swat around the head, and any fear that my soul was destined for hell had been purged from me in the early days of training.

“Okay.”

The pat on the back made me curl in horror. I hated people touching me. It always brought pain to me or pain to others.

“Stay here until 3 a.m., then proceed.”

“—and just because you own this illegal place doesn’t give you the right to hurt me!” Zel snapped.

I blinked, trying to seem like I’d heard the entire string of obscenities she’d no doubt thrown my way.

Dragging hands over my face, I said, “I’m not going to hurt you.” Much. My voice was deep and gravelly. I hated flashbacks. They came at the worst times. Ironically, my body had been trained to perfection—I could kill in hundreds of different ways. I could mutilate and massacre with an artistry only learned from a lifetime of tutelage, but the weakest part of me was my brain.

Try as I might to block the nightmares and visions, they broke through randomly, shoving me back into horror. However, this one had done me a favour.

I was no longer hard.

What the fuck were we talking about?

Ah, yes. “Ten thousand is the going rate for a woman of talents. Not a bad income for a night’s earnings.” I licked my lips. “I could be persuaded to go to twenty thousand if you’re so repulsed by me.”

Her eyes flickered to my scar. “I told you. I’m not a whore. You can keep your money as there’s no way in hell I’m letting you fuck me.” She backed up to the balustrade, her face paling from cream to white.

The hair on my forearms stood up. I inched forward, trapping her between my body and the glass. A metre existed between us, but the air hummed, arching and spitting with the same delicious energy I’d felt when I’d touched her.

“Fine. You’re not a whore. But if you were…inclined…to agree to a one off deal. To let me, as you eloquently put it, fuck you—what would you charge?” My heart raced at the thought of peeling the lace off her shoulders.

I took another tiny step forward. “I’m warning you now, I won’t take no for an answer. I haven’t wanted a woman, any woman, as much as I want you. I’m going to have you, so stop dancing around the fact, hoping you can get free, and agree to a figure.”

My cock thickened again at the thought of touching her—relishing being allowed such a simple, but miraculous thing. I would savour every inch of her skin. I’d caress her with every fingertip, my tongue, my entire fucking body.

Zel shook her head, loose curls haloing her head. “Nothing. Because there is no deal. Back up and let me leave. Go and sleep with one of your employees. You don’t need me.”

Her denial made me want her all the more. It was torture. It was heaven. “You’re wrong. I do need you. I wasn’t lying when I said you were different. I don’t understand it, but I’m fucking done pretending to be human when I’m not. I need you to let me be free. I need to fuck you.”

Her skin flushed and she moved suddenly, darting to the side to reach the stairs. She was fast, but I was faster. I placed myself squarely in her path, gritting my teeth ready for consequences. If she touched me we’d both be in trouble.

She careened to a stop, unsteady in her high heels. “Move.”

“No. Not until you agree.” I took another careful step toward her. My mouth watered at the thought of kissing, licking, biting. I’d never been so irrational or so sure. Something about this woman made my lifeless cock sit up and fucking beg.

“There’s always a deal. For the right price,” I whispered, slowly closing the small distance between us.

Zel’s neck rippled as she swallowed hard. “I’m not for sale.” The slight tremor in her voice stroked my need, making me burn. She lied. She might not know it, but she’d just admitted she would sell herself. To me.

My stomach flipped, filling me with edgy thirst. Thirst to have her.

I murmured, “I have a gift. A gift that tells me secrets that people think they hide so well. Call it sixth sense, or a hunter’s perception, but I know things about you already. I know when you’re lying.”

She bit her lip, eyes flashing with defiance. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Bowing my head, I inhaled her soft floral scent. Lily of the valley. A plant we cultivated at the facility—a pretty little flower whose berries were poison. A convenient method of killing with anonymity.

If I tasted her would she poison me?

“I know you have two weaknesses.” I’d catalogued them, committed to memory just like I’d been trained. It wasn’t a gift, mainly just good observation. I knew what would bring out the ultimate amount of pain if I ever needed to.

One: she had a silver scar, long since healed, marring her beauty directly beneath her right eye. It’d been deep and long, but sewn together neatly, so it was barely noticeable under the makeup she wore.

Two: her right ear had been torn. Healed and stitched, a small triangle of cartilage was missing from the top.

The imperfections made me frown. I wanted to know who hurt her. I wanted to kill them.

She huffed, inching along the balcony to avoid my advance. “You can make up stuff all you want, but you’re wrong on one count: I’m not for sale.” She bared her teeth. “Back off.”

“No.” I crowded her against the glass. “I want you, and I always get what I want.”

She stood taller, arching her back, looking like she’d sprout wings and take off from the mezzanine at any moment. “Well, unless you’re in the habit of rape, you won’t get what you want this time.” Her hands flew up to shove me back, but I dodged to the side. Fear overrode my need, beating a fast tattoo in my chest.

I couldn’t risk her touching me.

Her eyes fell to my scar again, making me very aware of her perfection compared to my grotesqueness. Of course, that’s why she’d refused. If I’d been whole and not disfigured, I doubted she would deny me. I might know nothing of women, but I knew she suffered the same pull, the same need.

I captured her elbow, quivering thanks to the charge between us. “Would you fuck me if you didn’t find me so repulsive?” My entire body erupted from the single contact. It twisted my gut, scrambled my brain.

I would never be good enough. Not for this flawless creature who had the power to free me.

But that was a lie. She did have flaws.

She portrayed a woman who had everything and needed nothing. Someone strong and independent, but that was false. She was damaged. I might wear my mistakes for the world to see, but it didn’t make hers any less visible.

The anger on her face disappeared, replaced by tenderheartedness for just a second. “Is that what you think? That I’m refusing you because of your disfigurement? You aren’t repulsive.”

I decided then and there I hated her compassion—I preferred her anger. I deserved it. I didn’t deserve empathy.

“I’m refusing you because you’re an overbearing psycho who can’t take no for an answer and stole my freedom and my knife. Your scar has nothing to do with it.”

My temper built. “I know you need money for something. The way you look at the wealth around us screams the truth.”

She froze.

“I’m guessing you need a sizeable sum.” I glared harder, deciphering the greed and hunger in her eyes. She didn’t seem the type to want frivolous things. It was for something deeper…something….

The answer appeared from nowhere—like it always did when I let myself delve deep.

“You need it for someone you care about. I’m also guessing you’d do almost anything to get it.” I delivered it like a threat, a curse. “All I’m asking is for you to let me fuck you. And I’ll give you what you need. Name a figure and it’s yours to spend however you fucking want.”

My lifeless heart stuttered as her fight faded and her green eyes shimmered with tears. “You arrogant prick.” The spark and intense awareness between us shifted from lust-filled-competition to grief-ridden. “You don’t know a thing about me. You don’t deserve any part of me.”

Shit.

I didn’t know what to do. Standing there like an idiot, I offered no condolences as she sniffed and gritted her teeth. No tears fell, but the glossy look never fully disappeared. “You truly are a bastard. For your information I felt what you did. I found you intriguing and don’t mind admitting I entertained the thought of what it would be like to kiss you. You could’ve had me. All you had to do was be a gentlemen and ask me on a fucking date. But you ruined it, and now you’ve used my one weakness and made me feel like shit.” Her shoulders fell, and I knew I’d won.

I’d won, but I didn’t feel victorious. I felt like fucking scum.

Being able to read what people tried to keep hidden meant I could intimidate and influence. Up till now, I didn’t give a rats-ass about hurting anyone, but this woman… this woman….Shit.

Sighing, I muttered, “Tell me about your ear, then maybe I’ll let you go.” Give me one piece of you. I placed my hands in my pockets and backed off a little, giving the illusion of freedom and safety.

She shook her head, balling her fists. “What sort of mind games are you playing? Why do you want to know anything about me?” Her voice was soft but strong, lyrical but brave. Something twinged deep inside, recognising the fight in her—the same fight that lived in me.

Spreading my arms, I said, “No games. You were honest with me, so I’ll be honest with you. I’ve lived a lonely life—not through my own choice—and for the first time I connected with someone. I like the lust flowing in my veins. I love the anticipation of fucking you. And I love your fierceness.” I waited for her to look up—to make eye contact—but she never did.

“If I tell you about my ear, you’ll let me go?” she asked softly.

I stifled my growl. After my honesty, admitting I was drawn to her, all she wanted to do was leave. Fine. I crossed my arms. “I said maybe.”

Silence pulsed between us, thickening with tension. The ache in my cock was overshadowed by an ache for something different. I needed pain. I needed a fight. Only pain could eliminate the confusion and give me room to breathe. I hated suffering such intense emotions, all while hoping they’d never leave.