Heartless (Merciless 2)

That ragged breathing comes back, and I stand up, ready to make a cup of tea and go hide in the den, or maybe the new room, the white room, the pretty room with the replicas of what I used to be in it. Whatever the hell that gilded room is. My hideaway room.

“Hey, hey,” Jase’s voice is comforting, and he takes a step closer to me, but doesn’t touch me as he says, “He’s had a hard time.”

“Yeah, well, so have I.” I bite out the words and surprisingly keep the bitterness in my voice to a minimum.

“He’s had a decade of hard times, of people he loved dying, his only friend and brother leaving him, and then other fucked up shit. It was a never-ending cycle until he became the person he is now.”

I glance up at Jase, but only for a second because I don’t want to cry. He looks sympathetic at least, and genuine, but right now I need to know something will change. I don’t need excuses; they’re never good for anything.

“What are you doing out here?” Carter’s sharp voice makes me jump and I nearly fall backward on the stairs but catch myself. My heart pounds and for the first time, I feel real fear since coming outside.

“Are you crying?” Carter asks me with disbelief and then turns to Jase with a look that could kill.

“She was just talking about you, actually,” Jase answers Carter slowly, and the two stare at each other for a long, hard moment.

“I wanted some fresh air for a minute,” I say to break up their moment, not holding back my anger as I continue. “I got lucky enough that my cage door was open.” With those parting words, I step past both of them, brushing against Carter as I do and hating that I breathe in his scent, feel his warmth, and love them both.

I need a cup of tea, a good book if I can find one in my new room, my hideaway room, and some time to ignore the world.

But Carter doesn’t give me that. I make it two steps inside the door before he snatches my elbow. I rip my arm away and he looks at me like he doesn’t understand. Like I’m the one who’s acting out of the ordinary.

“What’s wrong?” he asks me, concern lacing the demand to answer him.

“Are you fucking serious?” I don’t contain my outrage even though I should have. Carter’s eyes narrow and darken, but I don’t let it stop me. My heart races and it hurts harder with each thump.

“You’re being an asshole. An even bigger one than usual.”

“Be gentle,” I hear Jase say quietly as he shuts the front door, hiding the last bit of light from the day and leaving us with the sound of his trailing footsteps. Part of me wonders if he’s talking to me or to Carter.

“I’m sorry,” Carter says through clenched teeth, almost like those words weren’t meant to come from him in this moment. He shifts his weight from his left to his right and looks down at me with a look that elicits both fear and that dark desire I can’t deny.

A rumble of low irritation settles in his chest as he tells me, “Mind the way you speak to me.”

“You should do the same,” I bite back without thinking. But it’s true. His eyes flash with anger, but he doesn’t speak. His jaw is held firm and I bet if he were to clench his teeth any tighter, they’d break. “You treat me like a child,” I tell him and then swallow thickly, feeling the knotted ball grow tighter in my throat. “You don’t want me near you, you don’t talk to me. And last night…” I can’t finish because again I feel like I’m going to cry, and I swear I’m not going to. Not here.

He doesn’t let me love him. But it’s because I’m his whore. I already know that’s the answer. It’s why he didn’t kiss me for as long as he did. I’m meant to be his whore and nothing more.

A moment passes where I’m just breathing. Staring into the eyes of a man who can make me feel so much, but right now it all hurts. I want him to hold me and let me hold him back. I want to slap him and tell him he’s an asshole and that I hate him. I want him to tell me that he loves me, and he doesn’t think of me like I think he does.

In a matter of seconds, I go through a fantasy where everything will be okay.

“Give me your hand,” Carter commands me. I jut out my chin, hellbent on telling him to fuck off, but he has a pull over me. The depth of pain in the hollows of his dark eyes makes me bend to his will. Slowly, I bring my hand up for him to take it. Even if I am just his whore, obeying his command.