Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 127484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
I stepped forward, purposefully pressing our bodies flush together. Knox went statue still.
Forcing my hand not to shake, I reached out to cup his jaw. My palms exploded with electricity when I made contact. The skin was smooth, warm, unlike the cold façade he wore.
“You’re not the one who gets to decide how broken I am,” I cupped his cheek. “And you’re also not going to stand here in front of me, trying to scare me with your trauma, with your sexual history or your biased view of your soul.”
“I’m not trying to scare you with my trauma, Piper.” Knox took hold of my wrist. Although he didn’t yank my hand away, he squeezed my bone. I loved the pressure, the pain on my flesh. I’d thought I didn’t want a possessive man, but it turned out I wanted this man to possess all of me.
“I’m trying to scare you with how I dealt with it,” he bit out. “Plenty of people who get abused process it in healthy ways, become normal members of society. Or if you’re my brother, they become famous by defying death for a living.”
I filed away that tidbit about his brother. The tone in which he said it showed scorn on the surface, but I detected other things too. Worry. Reverence. Pride. Love. He was capable of all of the human emotions he thought himself immune to.
“As for my soul.” His grip tightened. “You’re deluding yourself if you think I have one of those worthy of you.”
“I’m aware of the road you’ve walked down,” I replied in a low voice, careful with my words, tasting them before putting them into the air. “Since it brought you to me by way of kidnapping preceding a forced marriage. I’m under no illusions as to who you are and what you’ve done.” I stroked my finger down his neck then rested it lightly against the bullet wound I’d all but forgotten about.
Shit. We had been traipsing through the forest, having this heavy conversation, and he’d been shot an hour ago.
I scanned over his face. He was pale, but that was his norm. Somehow, despite sitting in the sun for hours on end watching me garden, that hadn’t added so much as a smidge of color to his face. Not a reliable marker for his overall health.
Though it was incredibly difficult, I swallowed my need to speak more, uncover more of him, share more with him.
“We need to shelve this discussion,” I said with a heavy breath.
“Shelve it?” His brow barely rose. It was little more than a twitch, really, but I noted it.
I nodded. “You were shot.”
“Not in the throat. I can still speak.” His hands were at my rib cage suddenly, a ghost over my torso for how lightly they skimmed me, as if he were afraid to touch me. “I can still take you.” He grasped my chin roughly, much rougher than his barely-there touch on my torso. “If I want to.”
There was a cruel undertone in his voice, in his gaze. He was implying that this was all teetering on his decision. That he was in control. But I knew that he was trying to convince himself more than anything.
I knew that there was no controlling this. Us. Whatever this was. If I was able to control it, I would’ve left with Daisy, risks be damned.
“We need to go back,” I protested. “You need to sleep. In the bed. Not on the couch.”
His eyes skimmed over my face. Slowly over every inch of it. “No way in fuck you’re sleeping on the couch.”
I swallowed my nerves. “I won’t be.”
It was time to be rid of this illusion that we were captor and captive.
We were both captives to each other.
Fourteen
Knox
Something had changed with Piper.
She’d let go of all pretenses she’d been trying to hold up, crossed the distance between us and made it clear of her feelings. Of her wants.
For me.
Even after I’d told her the truth. Exposed my ugly, rotting insides to revolt her.
But there was no revulsion. I should’ve expected that. Piper wasn’t capable of the cruelty it took to hear someone’s greatest sins and secrets and then shatter them while they’re most exposed.
That was my job.
If not that then surely me laying a hand on her sister, then laying my hands on her, especially after learning what a piece of shit her father was, should’ve swayed her. My fingers itched for my knife. I needed to release more blood to sate my need for punishment of that act.
I rarely regretted violence. Killing. The second you began regretting the souls you took was the second you were walking your own way to the grave. Regret was weakness. Too human.
But touching her sister—the five-foot-fucking-nothing ballerina Piper loved most in this world—was a sin I shouldn’t have committed. I wasn’t in control then. I’d seen red. I’d seen Piper lying lifeless on the floor.