Chapter 31 #2
“Don’t you think you’re talking too much for a man who’s lost his freedom?
What do you think my family will do while you’re carrying out whatever you’re fantasizing about in that brilliant mind of yours?
Let me remind you, I’m not some helpless girl with no one behind her.
I’m the daughter of the king of the underworld. ”
He scoffs. “The same king of the underworld who couldn’t find his precious daughter, even after doing everything in his power.”
I grit my teeth, then force my lips into a smirk. “Forget about that. Let’s look at your situation instead. You’re being held prisoner on a morgue floor, this is your life now. Trapped in a place no human wants to spend more than a few minutes in.”
“Only I decide what my life will be. And I decided that four months and twenty-three days ago. Now, if you’re done talking, you can leave, because the longer I watch you standing there, looking this depressed and pitiful, the stronger the urge to ruin my plans becomes.
Leave before I fuck you right here just to bring some light back into those eyes.
I hate seeing them like this too much to keep watching. ”
My nails dig into my palms. How can he strip away all my masks so easily, as if I’ve made no effort to hide this from him and everyone else? Even Salvario took days to notice something was wrong. My anger toward him sharpens, simmering violently in my belly alongside the heat of his words.
“Don’t delude yourself into thinking you know anything about how to handle my mood disorders.”
“Why not? The last time I saw you, you were in far better condition, even while calling me a monster, screaming your hatred for me, and claiming you loathed my touch. Now, without me, instead of looking better, you look so much worse.”
“Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I went through a traumatic experience, watching someone nearly die in front of me.”
He laughs mockingly. “Keep lying to yourself. It doesn’t look like it’s helping, but don’t give up.”
I grit my teeth. “Fuck you. I’m leaving now that I’ve made sure you’re not dead. Now I can move on with my life, with Salvario.” I add the last part only to unsettle him, just the way he’s unsettled me.
And the drastic change in his expression, from mocking to blazing anger, makes it all worth it.
Before I can study his new expression more clearly, he’s on me.
Or, to be exact, I’m on him, because he lunges at me, grabs my throat, and pulls me onto him.
My hands press against his chest to steady myself.
Up this close, he looks terrifyingly furious.
The anger radiating from his entire stance makes my blood turn to ice.
The space between us feels like a held breath before a scream.
My mind goes back to a memory of Greenland, when Salvario saw the video of Avi and Zo kissing.
Right now, Hunter’s anger looks like a twin of Salvario’s from that day.
I’m not a fan of this kind of anger. Last time, I almost lost Bruno.
This time, it looks like I might lose my life.
“I’m telling you this one last time, if you let him touch my wife, I’ll make you regret it in the worst way possible,” he grits out, squeezing my throat harder, robbing me of breath.
I keep glaring at him. Death is the last thing I’m afraid of.
“Fuck you. I’m not your wife.” The words barely scrape out through my squeezed throat.
His jaw clenches harder. His eyes darken to that shade of gray the sky wears before the worst storms—the ones that kill millions in seconds—are unleashed on the earth.
And then his hand is gone from my throat, but instead of releasing me, he grabs a fistful of hair at the back of my head, pulling hard enough to make me wince.
But that wince is swallowed by his mouth.
He crashes his lips against mine, kissing me with no attempt to hide his anger or his feral want.
I don’t respond, just like I never did in that forest cabin, even when holding back is a war against my own body.
I hate this effect he has on me. Too fucking much.
He tilts my head farther back by pulling on the roots of my hair where his hand is clenched in it.
A little more force, and he’ll tear them from my scalp.
His hand moves from my waist to my breast. He squeezes the already sensitive flesh through my T-shirt, and my resolve not to kiss him back shatters.
I don’t even know when I start sucking his lips and tongue, or when I start moaning.
All I know is that it feels so fucking good.
Everything—his mouth, his thumb and forefinger twisting my nipple, the rising ache in my pulsing core.
How quickly he makes me lose control. I know I’ll hate this, and myself, even more once it’s over, but the pleasure is blinding me right now.
And then, just as abruptly as I was dragged into that ocean, where there is no self-loathing, no guilt, only the soothing numbness of a pleasure I shouldn’t enjoy, I am thrown out of it.
He releases me altogether. He leans back against the pillows, his expression cold as ever, as if he wasn’t the man who just did all that to me.
“Good. Your body knows who it belongs to.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. It was behaving just the same with Salvario earlier today.” I spit the words out, then get up and turn toward the door. I storm out of his room.
The moment the door closes, what I just did crashes down on me.
I scrub at my mouth. My lips are already swollen, and they hurt, but I don’t stop.
What I just did replays in my head, trapping me inside my mind, where I now hate every second I spent enjoying his touch.
A hand closes around my wrist, pulling my hand away from my lips and yanking me back to reality. Lyn stands before me, worry written across her face.
“Oh, fuck.” She scrambles through her bag, releasing my wrist. “You’ve made yourself bleed.”
She pulls out a handkerchief and presses it to my lips. I stare at her through blurry eyes. The guilt ravages me now, searing me down to the marrow.
How will I face Salvario now, after kissing Hunter, after enjoying his touch on this disgusting body that responded to him?
I’m disgusting.
I’m disgusting.
I’m disgusting.
The stone in my chest sinks deeper, cutting off my breath as the words echo in my head.
I’m fucking disgusting.
“What’s wrong?” Lyn holds my face in her hands.
She guides me to a bench and eases me down onto it. Then she calls out to one of our bodyguards, “Bring some water.”
She drops to her knees in front of me. I struggle to breathe; tears keep falling. I’m so pathetic I’m crying after doing something I knew was wrong.
Disgusting.
Pathetic.
Weak.
“Hey. Talk to me. What happened? Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head. How do I tell her what happened? How do I say out loud that I’m so despicable I kissed a man I hate? How do I say out loud that I cheated on a man who has only ever given me love and loyalty?
I cheated on Salvario.
I’m a fucking cheater.
The chorus of voices settles with that one last whisper.
The tears stop as if a tap has been turned off.
The weight in my chest doesn’t lift, instead, it sinks deeper, burying itself somewhere I can’t reach.
The guilt goes numb, like a limb I’ve been leaning on for too long.
Now I can breathe again through this soothing numbness.
The dead around me must be resting in this same soothing numbness.
I rise from the bench. Lyn rises from the floor.
“Let’s go home.” The words come out like a whisper from a ghost.
She nods, her hand moving in slow circles on my arm.