Chapter 28 #2
As he returned to the dresser to grab the first aid supplies, I slipped on the silky tank, forgoing the pointless lace bra, covering myself up as much as was possible.
I rolled over, acting like the thing they considered panties exposing all of my ass was no big deal.
This guy had seen me naked. Twice. This should be nothing .
. . but it didn’t feel like nothing. The strip of lace and loose, silky tank falling off my shoulder were almost worse than if I was completely naked. These items were meant to entice.
Seduce.
Invite.
He strolled back up to me, setting the gauze and antiseptic on the bed. The sensation of him over me locked my muscles down. When I was in the bath, it was as if I could actually feel his weight on me, feel his wet clothes rubbing against my skin. I gulped, tension coursing through me.
He didn’t move for a long time, and the silence in the room blasted out the voices and movement stirring in the building. The sun was lowering, coating the room in shadows, fashioning an intimacy.
Finally, his fingers wrapped around my calf gently, his other hand gliding down my leg, his palm coarse, spouting shivers over my skin. My teeth ground, and it had nothing to do with pain. Though that quickly changed.
As a damp cloth glided over the wound, a gargled cry broke from my lips and made my stomach churn. “Ahhh!” My fingers rolled into fists.
“Oh yeah, it’s gonna sting.”
I shot him a look over my shoulder, wishing he’d melt into the rug. He only smirked. He was enjoying this.
“You really are a bastard,” I snarled, gripping the comforter harder, the alcohol sizzling my leg.
“Actually, I am.”
My head yanked back over my shoulder, my forehead scrunching down.
“If you believe in that shit.” He concentrated on cleaning my leg. “If a piece of paper between two people declares their offspring legitimate or not.”
“You don’t believe in marriage, I gather.”
“A deed issued by the government should not determine the nature of a relationship. Who are they to tell you your love is valid? Your child is valid?”
“So . . . you believe in the fae way?” I bit down on my lip, huffing through the pain stabbing up my leg. His fingers were surprisingly gentle, but it still throbbed as he finished cleaning it.
“Seems more honest to me.” He shrugged, tossing down the rag and grabbing the gauze. “Fae don’t need a marriage license to prove they’re together. When they meet their mate, they know it. Don’t need a flashy leash.”
“Flashy leash?” I burst out laughing. “You mean a ring.”
“Same thing. A collar around your finger is no different from a collar around your neck or dick.”
“Wow. Tell me how you really feel.”
“Let me guess, princess . . . you dreamed of your wedding since you were a little girl. Fluffy white dress, glamorous party, perfect cake, the envy of all society . . . even though the wedding is a total fantasy, and reality wakes up next to you the next day snoring and farting in his sleep. Will you even like the wanker when the glitter is gone? Then you start popping out kids to avoid actually being with each other.”
“Damn.” I shook my head, my mouth parted. “What the fuck happened to you to be so jaded?”
“Not jaded.” He tied off the wrap, patting my leg, which made me wince. “Just honest.”
“I’m gathering you never met a girl who made you want to be with just her.” I twisted, sitting up, facing him. “Or guy . . . I’m not judging.”
He snorted, his head shaking, traveling back to the dresser. A brown bag I hadn’t noticed was perched on top. He tugged out a bottle of brandless palinka, cracked it open, and downed a huge gulp.
“Not for me.”
“Which one? Women or men?” I smiled coyly. From the female guests he’d had in prison, and the sounds of their moans piercing the walls, I had no doubt of his first preference.
He shot a look at me, taking another drink. “Relationships. Being with one person.” He leaned over the bed, handing me the bottle, his voice going low. “I can’t imagine anyone being enough for me. So far, three don’t even meet the challenge.”
A strange tightness gripped my chest, but I swished it away, taking a drink. The cheap, harsh brandy attacked my throat, and I coughed and hacked. It tasted like someone produced it in their home bathtub.
“Oh, right, you can’t drink with the commoners.” He reached back for the palinka. I yanked it out of his grasp, glaring at him as I took another drink.
“Don’t presume to know me.”
“What’s not to know?” He put his hands on his hips.
“Grew up inside Leopold as General Markos’s ward, only daughter of Benet Kovacs.
You got the best education and training.
Everything money can buy. Parties, dresses, food, top-shelf alcohol.
” He nodded at the bottle in my hand. “Rich, pampered, and entitled.”
Anger rolled my shoulders up, and I scrunched my face, parting my lips to tear into him.
“What part is false?” He folded his arms over his chest.
“Maybe nothing.” I strangled the bottle.
“But you say it’s an insult to you. I didn’t choose to be born into that world.
I was one of the lucky ones, and yes, I had an excellent education and got to sleep in a safe, warm bed, and food was never scarce.
But don’t act like you know me or know what I’ve gone through.
The wealthy play different games, but they are just as ruthless and cruel. ”
“What? No mint on your pillow at night?”
“Fuck you.” I got on my knees, wobbling a bit, moving closer, poking his bare chest. He leaned his head back at my nearness.
“Don’t patronize me or make me less. I’ve had men do it to me most of my life.
Don’t forget that I endured Halalház . .
. the attacks, the starvation, and torture.
I didn’t have the luxury of being ‘king’ there, having everyone, even the guards, at my beck and call.
I survived the Games. I murdered three people.
Two at once, if you recall,” I seethed, our chests pressing together.
“I killed one of my own friends. So get off your high horse. In there, you were the pampered and entitled one.”
His eyes tracked me, darting and moving over me as he slowly inhaled through his nose. Not responding felt like a victory to me, and I wasn’t about to let go of my seat.
“Now, before you can have another sip of this,” I wiggled the bottle, keeping it out of his reach, “you are going to answer some of my questions.”
“Really?” His brows went up at my audacity.
“Really,” I replied, settling back on the bed. “Starting with what the hell happened last night. I know the escape was planned. So sit your ass down and start explaining.”