Sitting so demurely, she glowed with power. After all, she did have the power to kill me. I’d gladly given her that power if it meant I got to keep her until that day, but I didn’t think she understood just how desperate I actually was for...
Companionship?
Civility?
Co-fucking-habitation?
It wasn’t fucking her in the rain that’d switched my heart. It hadn’t been my humanity that’d steadily been waking up. It’d been our conversations, our arguments, our volleys of hate and hurt.
“Where did you sleep?” I asked softly. “You look...rested.”
She looked ready to slay me and not just climb up the cliff but fly.
She gave me nothing but silence as her hair glimmered with darker gold, hinting she’d had a shower in one of the three downstairs bathrooms. The subtle scent of lavender and pear from the tissue-wrapped soaps set my mind alive with images of her naked under a cold spray, her hands teasing her breasts, feathering down her belly, cupping between her legs—
Christ.
I shifted, willing my stubborn hard-on to fuck off.
A small growl sounded beneath her breath as she snapped another page over, glowering at some poor TV star as if she’d happily rip his head off and crumple it into a paper ball—mainly so she had a weapon to throw at my head.
With the sun bathing her and anger still dripping off her like the addicting liquor I’d consumed during my year-long party for one, I physically couldn’t stand the thought of her leaving. My stomach didn’t just clench; it tore itself in two. It bled. It slid into my feet and died.
How had I ever thought I could kill her?
She. Was. Mine.
After all, why had she found me if I wasn’t meant to keep her?
Yet you tried to kill her how many times?
I scowled.
That was before.
Even just yesterday, I’d woken with the full intention of hurting her. But now? Now, I would do anything to protect her because she was never permitted to leave me. I was grateful I’d thrown away her car keys. When I was stronger, I’d climb up that damn cliff with the last dregs of gasoline that I’d been saving for a special occasion (instead of powering the ancient generator), and set fire to the car that still waited for her.
Was it normal for a man’s thoughts to flip from one decision to another? To exist as two entities inside one’s head? I was both the master and the monster, the fallen and the friend. Maybe I wasn’t concussed but schizophrenic, and I hadn’t noticed it while living out here alone?
I stilled.
Maybe, despite my relief that she wasn’t going anywhere, those tendencies to end her life would come back, and I’d do it anyway? I’d strangle her before I could confess that if she ever left me—by her choice or by my mistake—I wouldn’t choose to keep living here.
I’d do what I should’ve done at the start of my solitary confinement and let nature have me.
Crossing my arms, I tried again. “Are you one of those girls who has a crush on a celebrity?”
Her head tilted up, her narrowed eyes catching mine. “Leave. I have no intention of talking to you today. Or any day for that matter.” She flipped a page, revealing a copper ball gown on some starlet. Something that would look absolutely stunning on my gorgeous captee.
“If you fancy dressing up, you can claim any of the gowns in the wardrobes upstairs.”
She laughed sourly. “Oh, how very generous of you. Dead women’s clothing. No, not just dead women. Dead rapists.” She rolled her eyes in my direction. “Excuse me if I don’t leap to my feet in joy.”
My arms crossed tighter, sending a flash of agony down my broken one. “You’re wearing something of theirs right now. What’s the difference?”
She glanced down at the pearl-colored shirt with silver buttons and black skirt. Her toned climber legs seemed to go on for miles, their creamy expanse ruined by the cuff on her ankle.
“Oh yes, that reminds me. Thanks to you, I had to slip into this skirt headfirst because your damn chain stops me from pulling anything on via my feet. And if you must know, I’m currently soaking the T-shirts and leggings that I have with me—not that I can wear them right now—like I just pointed out. Plus, I had to cut off my last pair of leggings seeing as you weren’t around to unlock me—but believe me, the minute they’re dry, I’ll be changing—with or without your help. I don’t care if the damn chain trails up my leg and pokes out the waistband.”
“Or you could wear nothing at all.”
She flinched, her gaze automatically dropping to the highly obvious spear in my boxer briefs. The very same spear angled eagerly in her direction.
Her irritation darkened into outright contempt. Closing the magazine, she set her hands elegantly on top of the glossy cover. “Seeing as you very kindly told me what to expect in this forced imprisonment last night, allow me to do the same.” Uncrossing her legs, she turned to face me, her dislike rippling over the floor and lapping at my ankles. “Are you listening, Kassen? Because I’ll only say this once.”