Chapter 16 #2
He was big, bold, and beautiful—in an obsessed, creepy kidnapper kind of way.
And I was pretty sure panties dropped for him daily.
A man who had the kind of power he had didn’t run out of pussy options.
I was willing to bet he had women falling at his feet every goddamn day.
Yet here I was. Confused, angry, and scared, feeling guilty for liking his kiss so much.
Embarrassed by the way my body responded to his touch and mortified to think I was anything but disgusted by having his tongue in my mouth.
And now, while staring at my reflection, I hated the way I looked because there was no way a man like him would find it attractive, and I couldn’t understand why that was important to me.
He was a kidnapper, a psychopath with stalker tendencies.
Now that I knew he was responsible for my lack of a love life, I wondered about all the times I felt like someone was watching me.
For all these years I ignored the prickle in the back of my skull, feeling the way my skin tingled while being watched.
I ignored it because I had convinced myself it had always been my father’s men, my bodyguards. But could it have been him all along?
Bewildered and disgusted, I pulled the baggy shirt over my head and slipped the oversized jeans off my waist. After tossing the clothes as far away from me as possible, I finally looked at my naked reflection.
That was when I noticed I still had the protective wrapping over the tattoo I got the other night.
I had completely forgotten about the tattoo. And when Neon allowed me a shower earlier, there was no time for me to take note of anything, as I was only allowed thirty seconds in the shower.
Gently, I placed my fingertips on the wrapping. Thinking about the tattoo hidden beneath, permanently inked on my skin, made my stomach turn. God, I was such a na?ve ballerina girl who had been living in her own damn bubble for years.
With a tug, I ripped the wrapping off. There was already so much pain inside me, burning, stinging flesh was the last thing I worried about.
I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at the tattoo. If only I knew then what I did now, I probably would have opted for an innocent butterfly, or something delicate, cute, and pink. Some conventional picture fitting for a ballerina who had rebel tendencies every now and then.
Without looking at it, I straightened, moving my legs together so my inner thigh wasn’t visible in the mirror.
I was nothing but a five-foot-two sack of bones.
The bruises that marred my body didn’t help make the picture prettier.
They really roughed me up good the other night while carrying me from my car to theirs.
I carefully touched a bluish mark across my rib and flinched as the sudden sharp pain shot through every nerve. Maybe if I had a little more flesh on my body, I wouldn’t have bruised so easily.
A tear slipped down my cheek, followed by another. I was hurt. I was alone. I was confused and scared. I felt…lost.
“Son of a bitch.”
I jolted at the sound of his voice, grabbing the nearest towel from the rail. “Oh, my God, Granite.” Trying to cover my body with a tiny hand towel proved to be tricky…and awkward.
He shut the door behind him without taking his eyes off me. “I knew they hurt you. Your face.”
“Get out.”
“Jesus, Alyx. I didn’t know they hurt you that bad.” He pointed at my body, his gaze dropping to where I held the towel. “If I did, I wouldn’t have been so merciful by killing him so quickly.”
“What?” I almost choked, my heart instantly lodged in my throat.
He moved toward me, but he seemed to lack the confidence he always had. His footsteps were slow, hesitant, rather than assured and determined.
“After I saw what they did to your face, I sliced my blade through the fucker’s skull.”
A gasp slipped from my mouth, shock sending a shudder of chills down my body. “What? Why…why would you—”
“I told you. You’re mine. No man has the right to touch you.”
“So you killed a man? That’s insane.” I placed my palm on my forehead, feeling faint while my mind reeled.
“My brother shot a man to death in order to protect you while you easily could have ended up in the crossfire, yet me killing a guy for hurting you is insane?” The sneer of jealousy in his voice was loud and clear, and it hit hard against my chest.
“Granite, that’s not what I said.”
For the first time, his expression wasn’t stone. There was something different. Softer. Almost pained. Silence wrapped around us, and he just kept staring at me as if he was watching me break into a million pieces. His dark eyebrows gathered in before he scrubbed his hand down his face.
“What is it you want from me, Granite? First you let it sound like I’m a pawn in some game you’re playing against my father.
But then you tell me stuff like how you want me, and that I’ve always been yours.
That shit is confusing the fuck out of me, and I don’t know what to think or how to feel.
” My heart wanted to explode, my chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.
I was so desperate for straight answers, it was tiring me out.
I stared at him with desperation, willing him to give me the truth. But the pained expression on his face was gone, replaced with those familiar hard lines. “Get dressed and try to get some sleep.”
“What? Granite—” But he was out the door before I could finish my sentence.
My mind was reeling, and I placed my hand on my forehead, feeling faint and confused. Nothing made sense. Every second I spent with that man, every word that came out of his mouth, only confused me more.
One thing I did know for sure—I’d be a fool to want to understand rather than fear him.